behaviour.
I may have hated Michelle when she was treating me like shit, but even she didn’t deserve what I’d witnessed. And there was no way that Mr Bond should have been allowed to get away with it. Not when there was a steady stream of adoring teenage girls flowing through his classroom. Not when there was every likelihood he’d done it before. And if the media hysteria about sexual abuse had taught me anything, it was that he’d do it again.
‘I saw Mr Bond with a student,’ I forced out. When I looked up at Mr Fitzsimmons I could see he had no idea where this was going. Damn. Why didn’t we have a principal who’d been around the block a bit more? This guy wasn’t even married. How on earth was I going to tell him without saying it all straight out? ‘I saw Mr Bond having sex with a student in his classroom,’ I stated.
Mr Fitzsimmons winced at the words, and his head was already shaking no before I had even finished my short sentence. ‘I don’t know what rumours you’ve been hearing, Miss… Miss.’
‘Daina Harrow.’
‘Miss Harrow. But there’s no way that a teacher in this school had been having an inappropriate relationship with a pupil. You’re mistaken.’
I stared at him in confusion. ‘It’s not a rumour. I saw Mr Bond having sex with a student. Last night. In the English room.’ Mr Fitzsimmons continued to shake his head and I began to get angry. It made a welcome relief from feeling scared and awkward.
‘It didn’t look consensual,’ I added. Then leaned forward to him to make sure he got the message. ‘It looked like rape.’
The head shook no. A little waggle of denial. ‘Miss Harrow. I’m not sure what is going on with you. Perhaps you’ve received a mark that you weren’t happy with…’
‘I’m not in here making an allegation of rape because I got marked down in a test,’ I interrupted. ‘I haven’t had any tests in Mr Bond’s classroom. He doesn’t believe in them.’
That seemed to shock Mr Fitzsimmons more than any of my previous statements. ‘Mr Bond is a fine teacher. We were lucky to have him sign up with our school. He has an excellent record and he’s producing excellent results so far.’
I waited for some acknowledgement of my complaint, but the man just looked back at me as though he’d answered my question. ‘This isn’t about his teaching abilities,’ I said, emphasis on each word. Just like you explain things to a retard. Which perhaps he was.
‘Well, I don’t know what this is about Miss Harrow, but you seem to have your wires crossed somewhere. You can’t just walk in here and start making trouble just because you feel like it.’
‘I don’t feel like making trouble Mr Fitzsimmons. I came here because I’m scared and worried about a girl in my class who was raped last night by one of the teachers at your school . I thought you’d want to know about it before I called the police.’
He shot out of his chair and leaned over the desk at me. ‘There’s no need to threaten me with the police, Miss Harrow. They won’t appreciate you wasting their time any more than I do.’
All the frustrations of being a person without power in the world settled into me with a heavy weight. All the things I couldn’t do. All the things I couldn’t make people believe. ‘You’re the girl who left her class without permission last week,’ he accused me.
‘Yes.’
‘And now you’re in here making accusations about a teacher with no foundation and no evidence.’
As though there were any relation between the two events apart from me. I wished that I’d been able to go home and tell my mother what had happened and let her take care of it like any other teenager would be. Instead, I had to sit impotent in this stupid office with this stupid man and listen to his stupid mouth form stupid words that made stupid connections that meant nothing.
‘There is evidence,’ I stated back. ‘There’s a raped girl somewhere in this school, and
I may have hated Michelle when she was treating me like shit, but even she didn’t deserve what I’d witnessed. And there was no way that Mr Bond should have been allowed to get away with it. Not when there was a steady stream of adoring teenage girls flowing through his classroom. Not when there was every likelihood he’d done it before. And if the media hysteria about sexual abuse had taught me anything, it was that he’d do it again.
‘I saw Mr Bond with a student,’ I forced out. When I looked up at Mr Fitzsimmons I could see he had no idea where this was going. Damn. Why didn’t we have a principal who’d been around the block a bit more? This guy wasn’t even married. How on earth was I going to tell him without saying it all straight out? ‘I saw Mr Bond having sex with a student in his classroom,’ I stated.
Mr Fitzsimmons winced at the words, and his head was already shaking no before I had even finished my short sentence. ‘I don’t know what rumours you’ve been hearing, Miss… Miss.’
‘Daina Harrow.’
‘Miss Harrow. But there’s no way that a teacher in this school had been having an inappropriate relationship with a pupil. You’re mistaken.’
I stared at him in confusion. ‘It’s not a rumour. I saw Mr Bond having sex with a student. Last night. In the English room.’ Mr Fitzsimmons continued to shake his head and I began to get angry. It made a welcome relief from feeling scared and awkward.
‘It didn’t look consensual,’ I added. Then leaned forward to him to make sure he got the message. ‘It looked like rape.’
The head shook no. A little waggle of denial. ‘Miss Harrow. I’m not sure what is going on with you. Perhaps you’ve received a mark that you weren’t happy with…’
‘I’m not in here making an allegation of rape because I got marked down in a test,’ I interrupted. ‘I haven’t had any tests in Mr Bond’s classroom. He doesn’t believe in them.’
That seemed to shock Mr Fitzsimmons more than any of my previous statements. ‘Mr Bond is a fine teacher. We were lucky to have him sign up with our school. He has an excellent record and he’s producing excellent results so far.’
I waited for some acknowledgement of my complaint, but the man just looked back at me as though he’d answered my question. ‘This isn’t about his teaching abilities,’ I said, emphasis on each word. Just like you explain things to a retard. Which perhaps he was.
‘Well, I don’t know what this is about Miss Harrow, but you seem to have your wires crossed somewhere. You can’t just walk in here and start making trouble just because you feel like it.’
‘I don’t feel like making trouble Mr Fitzsimmons. I came here because I’m scared and worried about a girl in my class who was raped last night by one of the teachers at your school . I thought you’d want to know about it before I called the police.’
He shot out of his chair and leaned over the desk at me. ‘There’s no need to threaten me with the police, Miss Harrow. They won’t appreciate you wasting their time any more than I do.’
All the frustrations of being a person without power in the world settled into me with a heavy weight. All the things I couldn’t do. All the things I couldn’t make people believe. ‘You’re the girl who left her class without permission last week,’ he accused me.
‘Yes.’
‘And now you’re in here making accusations about a teacher with no foundation and no evidence.’
As though there were any relation between the two events apart from me. I wished that I’d been able to go home and tell my mother what had happened and let her take care of it like any other teenager would be. Instead, I had to sit impotent in this stupid office with this stupid man and listen to his stupid mouth form stupid words that made stupid connections that meant nothing.
‘There is evidence,’ I stated back. ‘There’s a raped girl somewhere in this school, and
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