On the first day back at school, Jordan swaggered into the playground and greeted his mates, then dumped his sports bag beside the playground fence to act as a goal post. One of his mates did the same for the other side, and they started a game of football. It was a fine day, with barely a hint of autumn in it. The first leaves hadn’t fallen yet, and there was no frost on the ground, but there was a tinge of decay on the wind nonetheless. However, Jordan didn’t notice any of these things. The holidays had ended. This was not a good thing, and so Jordan played football with his friends and tried to forget that he was back at school.
What he did notice, though, was when the new boy entered the school gates. New boys were easy to spot; a new school uniform always stood out, and they were invariably accompanied by a parent. This boy was no exception, and he recognised him, too. He stopped in his tracks and stared, a grin growing on his face.
‘Lookie-here,’ he said, more to himself than to his mates, who had stopped playing, too. ‘It’s helmethead.’
‘Who?’
‘The kid who didn’t like football, remember?’
Jordan’s mates shrugged and continued with the game, but Jordan continued to watch Austin as he said goodbye to his mum. He kissed her on the cheek and she waved to him as he crossed the playground, both of them oblivious of the stares they were getting. Jordan wouldn’t admit it to himself, but he was envious of Austin. At least he had a mum to kiss goodbye.
The bell sounded and everyone lined up in classes. Jordan was chatting to the boy next to him, when Mr Jones arrived with Austin in tow.
‘Line up in alphabetical order please,’ he said.
Jordan’s classmates mingled and changed places with each other rather too noisily for Mr Jones’s liking, and he clapped his hands loudly.
‘C’mon, Year Nine, you should be geniuses at this by now. You should be doing this quietly!’
The noise abated, if only slightly, and they re-arranged themselves into alphabetical order. Mr Jones opened up his laptop and tapped a few keys.
‘Right,’ he said, ‘listen for your names please.’ He looked down at Austin and beckoned to him to follow.
‘Ashton Allerson,’ called out Mr Jones.
‘Here,’ said Ashton.
‘Janey Averley.’
‘Yes, Sir,’ said the girl three places in front of Jordan.
‘Clive Baddas.’
‘Sir,’ said Clive, trying to ignore the titters at his surname. His peers called him Bad-Ass, but never in front of teachers.
‘Austin Baker,’ said Mr Jones, ‘you go here, lad, okay?’
The new boy stepped into the line, and everyone took a step back to accommodate him. Jordan breathed a sigh of relief that helmethead wasn’t next to him.
‘Jordan Baxter.’
What? Thought Jordan. Am I next?
‘Jordan,’ said Mr Jones. ‘By year nine, you should know your alphabet.’
‘Sorry, Sir,’ said Jordan, moving in front of the girl who was next in line. ‘Here, Sir.’
Mr Jones continued to call out the names on his register, but Jordan could only look at Austin, who was standing in front of him now. Why did he have to be in front of me? I hope Mr Jones doesn’t have a seating plan, he thought.
The Best of Students, The Worst of Students
Monday, 6 September 2010
Jordan’s hopes were dashed as soon as they walked into class. Austin was sat next to him in form time. Jordan’s uniform looked scruffy compared to his new classmate’s. Mind you, Jordan somehow made all his clothes look scruffy, new or not.
Their new tutor, Mr Jones, introduced himself. He gave his class a brand new planner and a printed copy of their lesson timetable, which he instructed them to copy out into their planner.
Austin unzipped his pencil case and retrieved a biro from within, then immediately began to copy his lessons out in neat handwriting. Jordan, however, couldn’t find his biro, or the correct page onto which he should copy his timetable. Words confused Jordan at the best of times, and exasperated him for the rest.
Jordan sat at his desk, paralysed with indecision. What should he do? Should he ask his tutor for help, and risk embarrassment in front of his peers? Should he ask the boy next to him for a spare pen and try to decipher the timetable code? Either way, he was risking humiliation.
Instead, Jordan did nothing. His planner remained closed, and his eyes fixated on Austin’s writing hand as it nimbly danced across the page. He became transfixed by it, and so did not notice the arrival of his new tutor.
‘What do you call this?’ said Mr Jones, pointing at Jordan’s closed planner on the table.
Jordan was abruptly startled out of his mesmerised state, and in his confusion, simply told the truth.
‘It’s my planner,’ he said.
Jordan could see Mr Jones’s expression alter, and realised that this was not the answer his tutor wanted to hear.
‘What’s your name?’ Mr Jones asked.
‘Jordan, Sir.’
‘Bit of a comedian, are we, Jordan?’
‘No, Sir.’
‘No. Well, I’d agree with you there.’
‘Sorry, Sir.’
‘Stand up, Jordan.’
Jordan stood up, and could feel all eyes on him. This was worse than asking for help.
‘This is Jordan, ladies and gentlemen,’ said Mr Jones. ‘He seems to think it's okay to sit at his desk, with his planner closed, and do nothing.’
Jordan looked down at the floor, his cheeks reddening as he heard whispers from his classmates. He wanted to crawl under the desk and stay there until everyone went away. Why was his tutor doing this to him?
‘What’s your name?’ asked Mr Jones, again.
Jordan looked up, and was about to answer, when he realised (just in time) that Mr Jones had turned his attention to the boy next to him.
‘Austin, Sir.’
‘Stand up, Austin,’ asked Mr Jones.
Austin stood up, and his tutor picked up his planner and showed it to everyone.
‘This is Austin,’ he said, ‘and Austin has finished the task set him. Not only that, he’s done it neatly.’
Mr Jones put down Austin’s planner and walked to the front of the classroom. He continued to address the class from there.
‘What we have here,’ he said, ‘is the best of students, and the worst of students.’
Jordan looked at Austin, and all the humiliation he felt became channelled into hate for this ‘best of students’. Austin glanced at him, and smiled. It was a straightforward, friendly gesture on Austin’s part, but to Jordan it was simply smugness, and at that moment, he declared war on Austin, and a tragic series of events was put in motion.