REVENGE AT SCENIC HIGH

‘ ….the men all cried out in agreement. Yes, Odysseus, let us rest tonight . We will sail at dawn….’ , the ancient history teacher read out at the front of the class in an inspired fashion. But alas, these were the only words young Michael heard before diverting all his senses back out the window.

The view was a refreshing change from seeing the teacher’s face which seemed to reflect the age long past of which he was reading . Michael soon found himself daringly prepared to doze off in the middle of Mr. Greenwood’s ancient history lesson , as the melodious sound of the overhead fans sympathised with Michael’s need for sleep.

Will I get away with it’? he contemplated whilst he allowed nature’s beauty to soak in . Perhaps not, he reflected , that would be the most foolish thing to do. He took a look at Mr. Greenwood with his nose buried in Homer’s Odyssey, his eyes reflecting the intense joy he was receiving by reading what he had so obviously wanted to read to his students all term. Michael then suddenly realised that his idea may in fact work.

Left with this thought for barely three seconds, Michael’s attention was directed to a strange and suspicious scraping sound emanating from the desk in front of him. Curious, as he has always been, Michael slanted a little to his left to get a better look at the exploit that was to unfold before his very eyes. Sharon, a girl he barely knew, was using her desk as camouflage for the unfolding of her malicious plot. In her left hand was an elastic band and in her right , a boomerang shaped projectile. Michael didn’t need a recorded piece of information to understand what this young lass was up to! . He was cognizant of her little ploy since he had contemplated the same action many a time .

Michael sat there watching as he marveled at this girl’s expertise; her hands were not even shaking as she twirled them maliciously around her weapon forming a perfect slingshot. " How can she be so cruel ? " he thought with sympathy for that vixen’s victim , fully regretful of his past intentions. It was as if seeing someone else commit something that you yourself had thought of doing , was worse than committing it yourself.

She began to prepare for her attack , bringing her hands and weapon just over the top of the desk and placed her target in range : the poor and unarmed teacher. There was Mr. Greenwood , unashamedly emotive in reading his favourite book unaware that he was about to become part of a childish and heartless prank. Suddenly Michael’s heart went out to the man. Michael was being called to do justice , to save this harmless teacher from a scarring episode. But what could he do ?

I must do something I thought, kick her chair or pull out her hair!.. No, no.. And then , without even thinking I yelled out ‘Sir’.

The word struck in my throat as heads turned , all towards me and I realised that I couldn’t have done worse in tying myself up in a noose. Mr. Greenwood would surely kill me for calling out.

Sharon, jumping in her seat at the shock, must have thought that all heads had turned towards her and so did the only thing she could. With a painful blow she brought her hands crashing down over the desk top and into her stomach in an attempt to conceal her projectile. The pain was written all over her even though I could only see her back.( I guess the slow descent of her head indicated her attempt to conceal the hands she was now rubbing.) With an arched back and a lowered head , she fiercely rubbed her left hand to numb the pain.

Some began to giggle whilst Mr. Greenwood searched for the scum who had disrupted his inspired reading ; until he saw..me! Our eyes met; one pair was fiery while the other was just hot. ( I knew I was blushing )

I had felt proud until that moment, like a boy scout who had just walked an old lady across the street as his good deed for the day. But now, as he stared at me with those fiery eyes, my pride turned to anguish as I realised that the trouble was just beginning. Nervously, I decided to speak first.

" Sorry…sir ", croaked Michael explaining that he had just wanted Mr. Greenwood to…ummm… repeat something he hadn’t understood. A chilling silence ensued , except for the pounding of Michael’s heart in his ears. But was his eyesight now faltering as well? Was that Mr. Greenwood at the front of the class or a ten foot ugly giant !Had the other students really learnt to snarl like they were now snarling?

" WHAT .. WAS IT …MICHAEL ? " stated Mr. Greenwood in a crescendo that would rival any musical score. Surprisingly, Michael thought that his inquisitor was behaving rather well under the circumstances.

" Umm.. I don’t understand the … I mean , why were the ummm, well you know how the …" muttered Michael until the there was a very welcome and hearty knock at the door. Mr. Greenwood turned towards the door and Michael’s chest rose and sank as he breathed a sigh of relief. Sharon looked behind at Michael thoroughly annoyed and humiliated and still in the recuperating stages of her ‘illness’.

I smiled innocently as if to say hello , how are you? She turned away in disgust , but, having learnt her lesson, she placed her sling in her pencil case like a good girl.

I looked back up as Mr. Greenwood returned to his post near his desk, my thought jumping at the thought of continuing to answer his questions. Yet, to my surprise it wasn’t to be. Picking up his book, he continued to read on, deliberately ignoring me… He had done it before, but now , I didn’t care!