Randy | Teachers' Lounge

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"That Jenny and her group were being such little cunts in my chemistry class this morning." Andy complained over his blueberry muffin. Some of the other teachers in the lounge turned their heads, a disapproving shake of the head coming from ancient Mrs Carter, the religious studies teacher. Andy didn't take notice of any of them, taking a bite of his muffin while his coworker across from him just sighed.

"You can't call the children cunts, Andy," Rye reminded him.

"Just because they're children, doesn't mean they're not capable of being cunts,"Andy shot back sourly. "But you're right. I'm projecting."

"I never said you were projecting," Rye pointed out with a wry smile. Andy's mind was like a whirlwind sometimes, only requiring the slightest probing from Rye to go spinning off on a tangent.

"Well, I am," Andy huffed. "I feel like my whole evening's been stolen by this bloody dance. I wasn't even supposed to be chaperoning but of course Alison's toddler just had to get sick today."

"Did you have plans?" Rye asked as innocently as possible, forking at his salad.

"I didn't have a date, if that's what you meant," Andy smirked. "Unless you count season four of Gilmore Girls as a date. Which actually I do. Yes, I had a date." Rye tried to hide his smile in his salad, but Andy caught it anyway.

"Well, I'll be there to keep you company," Rye said.

"I hope by 'keep me company' you mean 'stop me from killing them'," Andy replied devilishly.

Rye laughed. "I really wonder sometimes how you ended up in teaching, Andy."

"Well I studied chemistry, so it was either this or make crystal meth," Andy shrugged. "Oh, lighten up, Mrs Carter, I was only kidding."

Rye stifled another giggle. He didn't know how Andy got away with this, everything he said being the opposite of PC, such a stark contrast to everybody else Rye had met working in a college. Andy just seemed to float above it all, and nobody minded because absolutely everybody loved him. Rye being no exception.

The bell rang and Andy groaned audibly, stuffing the last bite of his muffin into his mouth. "See you at the ball, Beaumont," he said with a wink, chuckling to himself at his accidental alliteration as he strolled off to class.

***

"Are you coming to the dance tonight, Mr Beaumont?"

"Yes, Jenny, I'm chaperoning so I'll be there."

"Ooh, will you dance with us, sir?"

"I'm afraid I'll be too busy guarding Mrs Carter's priceless punchbowl, Charleen. Maybe you should ask Richie instead." A chorus of wolf whistles and whoops came from Richie's friends.

"Oi, you can't drop me in it like that, sir!" Richie groaned.

"Wait, sir, isn't Mr Fowler gonna be chaperoning as well?" Asked Jenny.

"Yes he is."

"Ooooh!" Chanted the class.

"And what is that about?" Rye challenged his students.

"Nothing, sir," Jenny giggled.

"Do you think you'll dance with him, sir?" He heard another one mutter as more chuckles filled the room.

"What are you all laughing about?" Rye demanded, deciding to pick on the weakest of them to spill the truth. "Richie?"

"Everyone knows you fancy Mr Fowler, sir," Richie burst out.

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