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a
thirty-thousand-dollar-a-year school can produce. My principal wants
me to work with a group of girls who have been acting out. I take
them four times a week at first and, through performing arts, try to
change their attitudes in regard to confidence and their studies.
From the sounds of it, some of these kids have got it pretty
stressful at home and are basically being little shits because of it.
So… Natasha Munro to the rescue! ” I announced in my best
superhero voice, although it came out a bit more like Scrappy Doo’s
‘Puppy Power’.
    I was happily eating my
carb-fest, dreaming of the Oprah-style counselling sessions I was
going to have with my new ‘projects’, when I noticed Tink’s lip
was wobbling.
    Looking at him and
wondering what the hell was up, I reluctantly asked, “What’s
wrong, chuck?”
    “We need to go back
to Newcastle. I’m going to pack,” he declared as he bolted for
his bedroom door.
    “What???” I asked
in shock.
    He glanced back, lips
trembling once again and threw himself on the couch. “Wil, you
can’t work with kids like that here. They have guns. Oh, my Gods of
glitter, I can see it now. It’ll be on the news, ‘Teacher tied
up, tortured and shot five times in the head. Her best friend had to identify the body’ . I can’t see you dead, Wil. My
sensitive disposition cannot handle that kind of bloodshed!”
    He was hysterical by
now.
    “Tink, a) They don’t
have guns in Canada – that’s America, you idiot; b) I’m working
in the most expensive school in Calgary, maybe even Canada. I hardly
think I’m working with the Bronx kids here, do you?” I soothed.
    Looking slightly
calmer, he answered, “Really? There’s no danger?”
    “Well, not like you
are thinking. I’m not Michelle Pfeiffer in Dangerous Minds ,
you nugget. I don’t think skipping a few classes qualifies as on
par with drug-dealing and gang affiliation, do you?”
    “But Wil, they’re
rich, they could get you assassin–"
    “Tink! Can you hear
what you’re saying? Its three girls and performing arts, for
Christ’s sake! What they going to do? Take me down with a
hitch-kick and a full box split?” I stood, exasperated.
    “Wil, look at me.”
    I bent down, giving my
hands over at his insistence.
    “Two words: Black
Swan . That girl was fuuuuucked up , and she was into
performing arts. Just saying, sausage. Crazies are everywhere!” he
nodded his head sagely and pursed his lips in warning.
    “Yeah, I know, I
friggin’ live with one!” I exclaimed, gritting my teeth and
clenching my fists to the sky. “Now, get up. My pizza’s getting
cold.”
    “Fine, but I’m
getting you pepper spray and a taser first thing tomorrow. Any bitch
steps out of line on you and you pierce her with 50,000 volts of
electricity. Now, that’s a fucking floor show I’d pay to see!”

Chapter 5
Thank you for the music
    The first day of term
went really well. The kids in general were some of the most
well-behaved I had ever come across; a harsh stare would shut them
up. I’m not used to kids not being even just a little bit lippy. At
times, it creeped me the hell out. They all sat glaring at you
hanging on every word you said, in a manner a bit reminiscent of The
Village of the Damned .
    My accent wasn’t too
misunderstood – apart from being asked why I called everyone ‘man’
and why I said ‘like’ after every word – and we were able to
communicate well enough.
    I was a bit of a
surprise to most of the kids though, judging by the number of puzzled
looks I got when I referred to Hitler as “that feisty bloke with a
dodgy moustache from Austria”, but I was confident they would get
used to me. Most commented that they had never had a teacher that
looked like me, and a few of the braver ones had asked if my
eyelashes were really mine. I said yes; well, if I pay for the
individual extensions it gives me ownership, right?
    All in all, I judged it
to be going well.
    The time soon came for
my specialist