Her Foxes

Chapter 2

I walk into maths with a heavy dread on my back. I don't bother to apologise for my lateness, nor do I bother to close the door quietly. I just walk in with a grim expression and sit down next to a girl with black hair that goes down to her shoulders.

'Hey.' I whisper.

'Where were you? You're soaked!' She whispers back. I'm just about to answer my other best friend when Mr Fox, our maths teacher, stalks over. His features really do resemble those of a fox. He has brown hair, and a long sharp nose, and bronze eyes. He doesn't smile now. But when he does, his smile is just like a fox's - menacing, sly and cruel, oh so cruel.

'You're late, Ella. And soaked.' He almost growls. I can almost feel the class stare at me. I see triangles drawn on the whiteboard. A heading suggests I interrupted a lesson of Pythagoras' Theorem.

'I can go to the office and get a spare uniform.' I say with sweet defiance, like I do every lesson. It annoys the brains out of Mr Fox, lands me into detention at least once a week and gives me the reputation of the 'bad girl' but I love annoying Mr Fox so, so much it's almost an addiction. I do whatever I can to make me as impossible to teach as possible. I slam the doors, wander in late, draw in my maths books. What gives me the most pleasure though, is to see his face when he gives me my exams back. I don't so much as look to the whiteboard when he teaches, yet I manage to get at least A-'s each time. Oh, one more thing - I've been in Mr Fox's class three years in a row. Shocker.

I get out of my seat, take my soaking stuff and walk out of the room with my head held high. I don't bother to seek his permission.

'Two hours detention!' I hear Mr Fox yell. Where is a maths lesson without detention? I smirk to myself. Instead of going to the office, I wander underneath the covered areas, trying to dry off, avoiding the office reception lady. Every time I walk in there, the same middle aged woman gives me a disapproving stare. I don't like it. It's one thing for Mr Fox to hate me to bits, but I can't stand any other teachers hating me. And I don't know why Mrs Greene doesn't like me. Wait. I do know. I end up having detention in the staff room way too often. And everyone knows Mrs Greene can't stand trouble makers.

Eventually, once I feel like most of the water has squelched from my shoes, I walk inside the office. Mrs Greene, as usual, looks at me through disapproving eyes. Then she returns her attention back to her laptop.

'Good morning.' I say politely.

'What can I do for you?' Mrs Greene says with a sigh, not bothering to look my way again.

'Mr Fox sent me to borrow a spare uniform. Mine got soaked through. It'll only be for a few hours.' I know it's wrong to lie, but who cares. I'm not in the mood to be my usual polite self.

'May I ask why?' Mrs Greene asks in her same sarcastic tone as usual.

'It's raining. I got soaked.' I say curtly.

'Of course it is.' Mrs Greene says with sarcasm, stands up and leads me through carpeted hallways, past the staffroom and into a small closet - like room containing lost property. I'm left to find a skirt and blouse that will fit me, and that aren't too dirty or smell of dried yoghurt. It takes about five minutes. But I predict I still have about half an hour of maths. I'm not going to go back to that class. Nope.

I take a deep breath and sink to the floor, leaning against the wall. I'm ashamed to say it, but I'm humiliated. Humiliated by the fact that it's clear I hate Mr Fox and none of the other teachers, that my attitude goes from nice and polite and keen learner to rebel and bad girl the instant I enter that maths class. I'm humiliated by the fact that I showed up late and wet head to toe, with no doubt slightly red eyes from crying. I know I'm overdoing the whole 'I resent Mr Fox' thing but what can I do if my actions are just muted versions of what I'd do if I was set loose on that man, and his son too, come to think of it.