Chapter 1

Phew, ok. This is fine. Totally A-OK. I’ve started new jobs before, this is nothing special. Hell, my first day as a cop was less scary than this. It’s just, the principal clearly already hates me, and can I blame him?

I mean, we haven’t spoken a single word to each other, but I still give off the vibe of a drug dealer. And methinks that isn’t what he was expecting when he hired a new law teacher for his secondary school.

But hey - he’s the one who hired me immediately after only one phone interview - he’d never even seen my face before, and now he has, I’m sure he’ll instantly fire me. Clearing my throat, I give him a little wave, squeaking out a “hello?”

My accent is Scottish, but not heavily so - years spent with people from all kinds of places made my accent weaker than when I lived in Scotland with my parents. The principal keeps staring at me, as if to say ‘who is this riff-raff?!’

I’m guessing in this small seaside town they don’t get much ‘riff-raff’.

Eventually, he deems me worthy enough to actually reply to. “Can I help you? This is an educational institute, we don’t want whatever it is you’re selling.” I practically choke on my spit - I mean, I’m here, for my meeting with him, perfectly on time, but just because I have a visible tattoo and piercings means I can’t possibly be a teacher?!

“I’m Fyfe Ardis? You hired me for the law teacher position?” The principal looks like I just told the funniest joke, and I’m really starting to get offended. It’s not like my tattoo is even weird like I don’t know, a hippopotamus on my neck. It’s literally just ivy leaves.

A really beautiful tattoo, I think. My sister did it, and she’s super talented. It’s a curving line of ivy leaves on a vine which starts just behind my left ear, and it’s really rather small, nothing offensively massive. It continues down my neck and onto my left arm. It broadens out over my shoulder, and my sister, Ailsa, really showed off her talent on this section, as the breadth of it allows for a massive amount of detail. It twines around and around my left arm, all the way to my hand, where it curls around my wrist, before snaking on to my hand and curling around my middle finger.

It makes flipping people off look extra cool.

So yes, I have a visible tattoo. It can be seen on my hand, and on my neck. I’m wearing a smart, crisp white shirt buttoned all the way up, so it’s not even like a massive amount of it is on show. Plus, my slightly shaggy black hair covers the bit behind my ear where my hair curls over it.

My dark curls are smoothed back and tucked behind my ears, with only one stray curl landing on the left side of my forehead. That puts my piercings on show. I bet mister principal man hates those too. I have cute little black stones in each lobe, and then small black rings in the two helix piercings on my left ear. Small, and inoffensive. Probably still hates them, though.

His eyes inspecting me make me feel super aware of the piercing in my mouth too. I bet he’d have a field day if he realised I had a tongue piercing too. He probably thinks that people with piercings are the spawn of satan, based on how he’s looking at me right now.

“You’re Fyfe Ardis? I hired….you?” He asks incredulously, still trying to figure out if this is a joke. I nod quickly, saying “yes sir,” hoping he’ll just take me to my teaching desk or whatever. “Oh…you…you’re not a drug dealer on the side, right?”

I don’t know if I want to laugh or sigh. I get that a lot, because I look ‘edgy’ and ‘suspicious’ and ‘not like a good person’. Like what the heck does my dress sense have to do with my actions? Everything, apparently.

“No sir. Am I…still hired?” I ask quietly; I’ll feel like shit if he fires me instantly. With a sigh, he nods. “Yes…the position has been vacant for too long, so even if you were a drug dealer, I’d still hire you.”

Oh. Great. Good to know I made a shiningly wonderful first impression on him then. I smile awkwardly at him, hoping that he’ll take me wherever I need to go and then just leave me alone.

“I’ll take you to the teachers’ office, and then give you over to another teacher, who can take you on a tour of the school.” I nod, thanking the man. He looks rather surprised that I actually thank him, and I once again have the urge to roll my eyes. I swear I’m actually a good, normal person.

Principal Smith leads me through the school corridors, until we reach a door which helpfully says ‘Teachers’ office’. Opening the door, Principal Smith clears his throat, before walking in and letting me in after him.

“Everyone, this is the new law teacher, Mr Ardis. Mr Hastidal, please give him a tour of the school in a moment.” And then Smith just leaves. He literally turns around, and goes back out the door, leaving me in the dragons’ den. Nice, thank you so much.

Smiling thinly, I wave. “Hello? I’m uh…well yeah he already introduced me. The new law teacher.” Nice introduction, doing great on first impressions today! I’m in a very sarcastic mood, apparently.

I always get sarcastic when nervous.

“Hi! So um, this desk is free, right next to mine, I hope you don’t mind,” says a kind man who looks a little younger than me. He’s South Asian, and has short black hair pulled back off his face with gel or something, so he probably has bangs when not using a product. His dark eyes are kind but a little…nervous?

Oh. Great. He’s nervous around me. Of course. It’s not like I’m any taller than him, we’re practically the same height. I’m a little more built than him, but it’s not like he’s a twig or anything. Why do I always make people nervous? Because these people must have met guys with tattoos and piercings before, so it mustn’t be that.

Which means it’s something about me. Wonderful to know. Love it.

“Oh, that’s fine, thank you,” I say, moving over to the desk he directs me to. The desk next to mine I’m assuming is his, based on the fact that there’s a picture of him and some girl on the desk - his girlfriend? There’s a bunch of cards emblazoned with ‘thank you’ on the front, so I’m guessing he’s popular with the students.

Which honestly, fair enough, he seems nice and friendly. And, based on the amount of cards which have musical notes and things drawn on, he’s probably a music teacher. Music teachers are always popular, in my experience, because the classes are more fun than maths or history or whatever.

I grip the strap of my messenger bag firmly, not sure if I should put it down or not. Before I can think any further about it, Mr Music Teacher pokes my arm, gesturing to the door. “Right! Well, Principal Smith asked me to show you around, so let’s get to it! I have a lesson in an hour, so that should give us enough time to go around everywhere which concerns you.”

“Oh, uh, great, thanks,” I say awkwardly, glancing around the room. Everyone else isn’t even pretending to look friendly, and they just regard me with distaste in their eyes. Nice. This has got to be the best start to any job I’ve ever had in my 28 years of existence.

Day 1, and everyone hates me.