An Incident in the Corridor

Tuesday and you’re starting to get the hang of teaching. It’s more a repetition of the Monday. New classes, a Lower Sixth and the Upper Sixth ‘B’ Stream. {if Brianna = 1} Brianna gives you a smile when she enters, a recognisable face. The girls of her class are all very attentive, especially Brianna.{endif}

After the morning lessons you take a moment to fill in notes about the class. Abigail has already told you she’s busy this lunchtime, so you’ll have to find your own way to lunch. Your note writing is disturbed by several loud thuds and a muted scream. You rise quickly to investigate.

There’s activity on the stairwell. Two girls, vaguely familiar, who on seeing you run off.

“Hey.” Your shout doesn’t stop them. You start to chase after them but pause at the stairwell. Below, on the first landing down, there’s a scattering of girl, books and paper. You can’t leave that uninvestigated. “Are you alright?”

As you descend the girl starts to move. She uncurls herself to reveal recognisable brown eyes close to tears. It’s Ellie Jones, the silent, terrified girl, who wants to be invisible.

“Stay there,” you tell her. She’s trying to get up. “Don’t move. We should check nothing’s broken.”

That doesn’t stop her. Her eyes speak that she’s as frightened of you as she’s frightened of everything else. You might as well be the one who pushed her down the stairs. She doesn’t want to acknowledge what happened.

“I’m fine, sir.” A whisper of denial. She doesn’t look fine. She looks fearful and injured.

“Careful,” you console, as you squat down beside her. “Anything broken?”

“No, nothing broken.”

“Did you hit your head?”

“No, sir.”

“What happened?”

She pauses for a moment before answering. “I slipped.”

“Slipped?” You doubt that. “Did those two girls who were just up there have anything to do with it?”

Mention of the two girls deepens her fear. The ferocity of her shaking head portrays the opposite of its meaning. “I slipped,” she repeats.

“Are you sure?” A nod. She’s quivering. With what happened? Or with your questions? Why do you think the latter? Because everything you know about this girl tells you she’d rather be bullied than admit she’s being bullied.

“Come on, let’s pick all this up and get you to the nurse. She can look you over.”

You didn’t think her brown eyes could get any wider. There they are. Wide and deep and filled with fear.

“No, no nurse.”

“What, you’ve just fallen down the stairs. We’ve got to take you to the nurse. Get you checked over.”

“No, no nurse,” and she’s close to tears. It’s painful to watch her cute face crumple into panic.