Confessions Of A Parochial School Student.

Author's Note: Yes, I know I told you that I'd not be adding any new chapters until after New Year's. But, I had a little bit of time before leaving for my visit to my parents and so I was able to get the next chapter written.


Penny and I both heard the not-so-distant rumble of thunder at the same time and paused in the hallway. I knew that she lived across town and it would take her a few minutes to get to the bus stop, even if she sprinted. She would have to take a city bus as all the school ones had left previously. I felt a pang of guilt at realising that she'd stayed behind to speak to me.

"I have to pick up a few things at my locker," I told her, "You go on. I'll call you when I get home."

She nodded, gave me a breif hug and rushed down the corridor towards her own locker, to grab her jacket. I saw her rush out one of the exits a few moments later pulling her hood over her head, hiding her auburn locks. I thought I was truly alone now, in the school.

My locker was on the second floor and soon I was twirling the lock and forcing it open. It always tended to stick. I have no idea why, but I always tended to be assigned the faulty lockers. I pulled out all the books I'd need for tonight. I had all week and the rest of the weekend to work on my various school assignments

I glanced over at a statue of Virgin Mary set down at the end of the hall and said a quick prayer for Penny's safe arrival at home. I really hoped Penny beat the rain. I lived closer to the school, walking distance, but I often took the bus when I was feeling lazy. I thought a nice cold rain-shower would probably do me and my overworked teenage hormones some good.

As if on cue I felt someone standing behind me. A hand on my shoulder startled me and I nearly dropped the pile of books I was currently shoving into my bag. I turned slightly, and, amidst balancing, peered over the topmost texts. Mr. Lismore raised a brow at me and removed a few from the stack before speaking; "I fear I've kept you here rather late,"

Oh, god, did he even know how his voice turned my insides to jelly? Keep a straight face, Jacobs, I told myself, through clenched teeth, keep a straight face. "I realise that it is against protocol, but would you care for a ride home, Miss Jacobs?"

He was wearing a long, black overcoat and holding a dark umbrella under one arm. His leather case, which, I assumed, contained work from students to be read and graded, was draped across one shoulder by it's strap. Around his neck he'd wrapped a matching scarf that I thought made him look even more handsome. Though, I didn't doubt that most of his students would do anything to be able to pull both ends taut and hang him from the rafters. I shuddered at the thought.

I stared at him dumbly for a few seconds as I brought my thoughts to a halt. He and I. Alone. In his car. In the rain. Granted the journey would be a short one as I lived only about five minutes away by car. But still. Close your mouth, I warned myself, you look like a trout. Ugh.

Before I could answer, however, Mother Nature stepped in. Lightning brightened the windows along with a deafening crack that seemed to shake the entire building. I did, this time, end up dropping my books. The sound of the rain pelting the roof nearly drowned out my thoughts.

"I can't very well allow you catch your death, Miss Jacobs," Mr. Lismore said, "After all, you are still my responsibility."

I said, under my breath, "I thought you enjoyed the idea of murdering your students..."

"Yes," he said, surprising me as much that he'd heard me as with his tone, which seemed to imply sarcastic teasing, something I'd never heard from him before, "But, not with pneumonia."

I didn't know whether to laugh or back away slowly. He helped me pick up the books and we spoke very little, if at all, during this. Instictively, I kept my hands from touching his as I knew to do so would unleash a whole new set of emotions that I just couldn't deal with at the moment.

It was enough for me to handle the fact that he'd offered me a lift home. And, that I'd seen a glimpse of side of him he didn't often show. Was it because there were no other students or teachers around? It was true that we are all actors, every single hour of every single day. Depending on who we are with and what we are doing our behaviour changes accordingly.

"Are you coming, Miss Jacobs?" he snapped at me, pulling on black leather gloves, "Or were you planning on spending the evening here?"

Ah, I thought, in response to his biting sardonic timbre, as I followed him outside, pulling on my own jacket, there's the Mr. Lismore I was used to. Though, he surprised me anew by holding his umbrella over both our heads as we rushed through the parking lot towards his car. He may have the reputation of being the meanest teacher in the entire school, but, as I'd thought before, at the same time, there also seemed to be something...antediluvian...about his mannerisms.

As he held the passenger side door for me, and I breifly wondered how long it took for him to get used to the way American cars differed from British ones, it struck me that Mr. Lismore seemed a man who had been born into the wrong age. He was like a man out of time.

To Be Continued...