Page 8 of Knox Academy Omnibus
“How did you come to work there, then?”
“I actually used to go there as a student.”
“So you had an affluent upbringing?” she asks and I laugh.
“No, not at all. It’s not that kind of private school. It’s more of a...reform place. For troubled teens.”
“Oh! That explains why I haven't heard of it then,” she giggles.
“Quite,” I reply. I’m not ashamed of who I am, but I don’t often meet people that I have to spill my past to. I guess I don’thave to tell this girl my story, but something has me wanting to. “What’s your name? I’m Sawyer by the way.”
“Amelie,” she replies. “So teaching…” she prompts.
“Well, let’s just say the school worked wonders on me. I fully reformed and I was so grateful to those who helped me change, that I decided I wanted to do the same. I got my teaching certificate and came straight back to try to help others.”
“That’s really admirable.” She smiles at me, genuinely. “Who made such an impression on you there?”
“The headmaster and his wife. She teaches there too. Not only did they educate me and help me to change for the better, they did the unthinkable: they adopted me. I owe them my life.”
“They sound amazing.”
“They were. I mean, they still are. They’re just not together any more.”
“Oh why?” she asks softly. There’s no judgement or prying in her tone. She simply invites confidence to talk.
“They split relatively recently. It came as a big shock to me and my brothers - other kids they adopted, and one biological son - because they always seemed like such a perfect couple. But dad ended it, and found himself a new girlfriend pretty quickly.”
“Was he cheating?” she asks.
“Possibly. I guess it doesn’t really matter. I’m glad he’s happy, if he wasn’t before. But my mum is still pretty cut up about it all. It’s hard for her. I wish she could be happy too.”
“Do they still work together?”
“Yeah, mum didn’t want to leave her home. It’s kind of like a calling, rather than just a job. She has a house off campus, but she hardly ever uses it. She prefers to stay on campus with some of the other staff, because I think she’s lonely. Dad kept the family home which is also off campus.”
“Sounds really tough.” She smiles sympathetically.
“It was for a while, but everyone’s getting there.”
“What’s the school like?” she asks, changing the topic. I’m grateful; I don’t mind talking about this stuff, but I’m happier to move on now.
“Well, the building itself is in pretty poor shape,” I joke. “The headmaster, dad, pays his teachers really well to ensure the pupils get the best education possible, but also as an incentive for them to stay. They’re not exactly teaching the most enthusiastic pupils, you know?” She nods. “Some parents pay generously to send their kids to Knox, but there’s also a lot of charity kids there too. They’ve often been taken in as a last resort to keep them out of jail. Almost everyone is eighteen or older, so they could serve time in a state prison, rather than a juvenile facility, and dad is keen to avoid that. He uses a lot of funds posting bail too.”
“That sounds pretty philanthropic of him,” she responds with a slight disbelieving frown.
“I know. It’s kind of hard to believe there’s people out there decent enough to operate like that, huh?”
“Yeah,” she says quietly, disappearing off into her own thoughts for a moment. I wait patiently and she soon comes back. “So tell me about these tattoos,” she adds, stroking a finger along my exposed arm which is covered in a full colour sleeve of ink. She pauses to outline the Celtic knot tattoo that’s on the inside of my forearm, absentmindedly tracing the patterns around. It causes shivers up my arm, but I don’t talk about that tattoo.
“Ah well, that’s kind of connected to the teaching,” I chuckle.
“How so? You don’t normally see teachers with this much ink.”
“Well, we’ve already established that I had a troubled past. When I was younger I had a group of much older friends. One of them was a tattooist. Every time I did some stupid shit, I got ink to mark the occasion.” I shake my head at my idiocy. “When Icame good, there was a lot of shame over the ink that I wore, and I wanted it gone.”
“So, you got a coverup?”
“No. I made myself earn it. I didn’t want to just hide my past, so every time I did a good deed, I got a small piece of work done to cover part of the old. Eventually I ended up with this,” I hold out my arm and pull the sleeve of my t-shirt up so that she can see it in full. “It serves as a reminder for me.”
