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“I excel at it. I’ve always been good with numbers.”
When we reach our classroom, I stop just outside the door, facing her. “Before we go in, I have to know; why an electrical engineering course?”
This one has me interested the most. You don’t meet many girls who can claim they are an electrician. I’m not being sexiest; it’s just a fact. I don’t know one, but then again, I don’t know any male ones, either.
Also, an electrician… It’s so random, it’s not even funny. There must be a story behind it.
Her amused gaze turns to me. “I own my own house and I kept having trouble with the electrics. The companies I kept calling would send men round who thought they could take advantage of a girl living alone and charge me twice as much as what the work costs. Now I can sort my own damn electrics out. I tried to do plumbing when the drain in my back garden got blocked, but the second I had the water company out and smelled the stench, I cancelled my application.”
I giggle, finding her intriguing. “I wouldn’t want to, either, after smelling something like that.” We step inside, and my shoulders relax when I don’t find Mr. Flint leaning back against his desk. I turn to Becky, hoping we can be friends and meet up sometime in the future. “Enjoy the class.”
“You too.”
I go to walk off, when she calls me. I turn to face her. “Yeah?”
“Here, take my number,” she tells me, handing me a card. “It’s hard to make friends when I’m socially awkward, but you seem like a cool person.”
I bite back a smile at her words. “Thanks. If you ever want to grab a cup of coffee, let me know. I’ll text you my number now.”
She nods and takes a seat at the front of the class without another word. I make my way to the back, ignoring the lads’ who stop to stare at me when I pass them. I’m getting used to it now. There aren’t many in here, but the ones who are, look like they’d rather be somewhere else. Which means they are either failing another class and need to take the extra lessons, or have to for something else. None look willing.
I type out a quick text to Becky before I forget to send her my number.
Emma: This is my number.
Becky: Who is this?
My eyes scrunch together at her reply. I lift my head, ready to call out to make sure she didn’t give me the wrong number, but then notice her staring at her phone with the same confusion. I bite back laughter, only now seeing just how awkward she is.
It’s great.
Emma: It’s Emma. I’m sitting behind you.
Her phone lights up. After she reads it, she swivels in her chair, silently laughing before going back to her phone. When mine vibrates in my hand, I glance down, chuckling under my breath.
Becky: Oh crap! Well, that’s awkward.
Emma: It’s fine. LOL
She doesn’t reply because Mr. Flint steps into the room with heavy steps. “Sorry I’m late. I got stuck in traffic. Does everyone have their books?”
Without being asked, I pull mine out, not wanting to draw his attention to me. He already shows me a little more attention than I’d like him to. Pissing him off will just give him more ammunition. I finish setting my notebook and pens out before sitting back and facing the front of the class. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end when Mr. Flint stares me down.
I glance away, swallowing. I don’t relax when he begins going over our coursework, setting out rules and what he expects to be handed in. I write as quickly as I can, irritated whenever he keeps flicking the PowerPoint to the next screen, not giving us a chance to get it all down. He’s the one who called us here, not the other way around.
He’s getting to the end of the hour when he asks us to copy down the points shown on the screen.
I’m so engrossed in getting it down so I can get home, that I don’t see him walking up the aisle until I feel him standing next to me. His presence has the same effect on my body as it’s had from our very first encounter. My mind, body and heart don’t trust him. Every nerve is screaming at me to run. I’ve spent a long time doubting my instincts. I’d run at the smallest of conflicts or situations that took me out of my comfort zone. With Mr. Flint, it’s like a switch has been flicked and I know what I’m feeling inside, know I can trust it.
“I looked over the paper you handed in to my substitute last week. I’d like to go over some things that I think need improving.”
I glance around the room warily, seeing no one is paying attention to him. I don’t look at him, feeling sick to my stomach as I keep working.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Flint, but it will have to be tomorrow before class. I have to get home as soon as class is finished.”
I feel the air around us shift. Anger is pouring from him. When I glance at him from the corner of my eye, I notice his clenched hands and the veins bulging in his arms. I gulp, feeling my leg start to bounce.
“Emma, I don’t think you’re understanding me. If you want the passing grade on your work, you need to put time into it. When I tell you I need to talk about it to you privately, I mean it. If this class is getting too much for you, I can speak to the board and have you removed.”
