Birds || Fuenciado

Chapter 2: Phil Green the Drama Queen and the Glitch Incident

From: l.elliot1969@virgin.net
Re: Mike Fuentes

Hi Vic,

I'm sorry to hear Mike has been having trouble with other students recently. His form tutor has had a word with him and told him to let her know should the problems persist. In the meantime the student in question has been had a quiet word with.

I hope the issue has been easily resolved. We take bullying very seriously at Clairemont and having known both of you brothers since you were tots, I take any advances against the pair of you very personally.

Mike is a conscientious and hard-working student, and is always able to make his teachers smile. I want his last few years at Clairemont to be an enjoyable time and safe space for him - he certainly deserves it.

I hope you're doing well, Vic. The school is certainly missing your contribution!

Sincerely,

Miss Elliot

I can't help smiling at the email when I check my inbox on Saturday morning. Apart from being the Principal to save the school from liquidation almost twenty years ago, restore its history, culture and workforce and pull the students' grades back up, Miss Elliot is quite the nicest teacher in the school - a status I'm sure she battles for with Mr Lincoln, who teaches history and is nicknamed "Honest Abe" after America's own Abraham Lincoln, despite his first name not actually being Abraham.

Her second in command and vice principal by the name of Mrs Stevenson is not nearly so nice and very angular. She doesn't believe in altruism or praise for the sake of it, and since coming to the post ten years ago while I was still at the school she has had a reputation for being the "Tick-Boxer"; but she isn't mean, really. She just plays everything by the rule book, and would never compose an email quite so personal and reassuring as Miss Elliot.

I type out a reply to her as I munch on my fruit and yoghurt, and I hear a set of footsteps plod delicately down the stairs. A few seconds later, my mother appears in the kitchen and smiles, pushing her glasses up her nose and tucking a wispy tendril of snowy white-blonde hair behind her ear.

"Hey Mom."

"Morning," she chirrups, walking over to the kettle and flicking it on before putting a teabag in the pot. "You're up early for a Saturday, dear."

"I went for a run," I explain. "I can't go running on Wednesdays anymore because of work. So I'm starting Saturdays."

"Why you want to run at all is what baffles me," she muses dryly. "I take one look at my sneakers and feel out of puff. You're looking very industrious there, who are you texting?"

"I'm emailing Miss Elliot."

"The principal? Why?"

I'm about to tell her; and then I remember I'm not supposed to tell the folks about Phil Green the Drama Queen and the whole Glitch incident, so I cover it up quickly. "Just letting her know how I'm getting on. She asked at graduation I keep in touch."

"How lovely," Mom smiles, pouring the boiled water into the teapot and letting it brew. "I've never known a teacher cry for her students at graduation. Miss Elliot is a gift."

"She said the school was missing my contribution," I boast, which isn't a lie, really. Mom grins proudly.

"I'm sure they are, mister four-point-oh."

"For God's sake, you're so the favoured child, Vic," Mike's bored-sounding voice comes tripping in through the door before he arrives, and he walks into the kitchen a few moments later, dressed in a NOFX tee he sleeps in every damn night and a pair of sweatpants, and I know immediately he will remain in this state for the rest of the day unless prompted otherwise.