Something doesn’t sound right. I look up from my screen. The office is empty. I’m sure they must have said their usual goodbyes. It seems they didn’t register. Happens when I’m focused. I probably wished them all a goodnight and waved in their general direction as they left.
I look at the clock in the bottom right of my screen. It’s 17:15. I started at 7:30; so I’ve well and truly done my required hours for the day. Most of my colleagues, working in offices located in the eastern states, are well into their journey home for the night.
I’m sitting in the Adelaide office, waiting for Jane to text and tell me that she is on her way. She’s usually here by 17:30 on a Monday, unless some student crisis has erupted during her day, so I should be getting her message any minute now. There’s the ping. Time to shut down my computer so I don’t keep her waiting. She hates that. Seems her moments are more important than mine.
Anyway, I am standing at the kerb when she pulls up in front of the office. I’ve learnt my lesson. She’s a good teacher.
‘Hi, sweetheart.’ I give her a quick peck on the cheek. ‘How was your day?’
She looks into the side mirror and pulls out into the stream of traffic heading east. ‘Don’t ask. That bloody Oliver Dunbar attacked one of the teachers today. Punched her in the face. We had to call in his parents and the police.’
‘He’s eighteen, Dave. The teacher’s pressing charges.’
I’ve been listening to stories about this Oliver kid for weeks. ‘About bloody time someone stood up to the little shit.’
‘Bloody father’s such a dickhead! He’s threatening to sue the school.’
‘Says we’re out to ruin his son’s chances in life.’
‘Why doesn’t he change schools?’
‘We’re the end of the line. He’s been expelled from every other school in the zone.’
‘Like to be in court when that case comes up.’
She laughs. ‘How was your day?’
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