In addition to new students, a new semester sometimes meant new staff. When my secondary school resumed for the third term of my senior year, a new English teacher had joined the staff.
Ms Ball was a recent graduate in her early twenties, and she would be substituting for Ms Leary, who was going on leave for the rest of the year. Any young female teacher would naturally draw the attention of the male student body, but Ms Ball was something else entirely. She was about medium height and exceedingly pretty, with long, straight fiery hair, pale skin, and a slender body that she unfortunately concealed under conservatively-cut summer dresses. Her mouth was wide, with full, plump lips and perfect pearly-white teeth that showed when she gave her broad, signature grin. I envied her students and wished I was among them.
On the Wednesday of Ms Ball's second week, the school held one of its "casual days", where students could make a small donation in exchange for a reprieve from wearing our uniforms, but teachers often took part too. Given her usual attire, it was a surprise that Ms Ball donned the school uniform in a statement of irony. The light blue polo shirt clung to her torso and accentuated her modest breasts, and the dark blue plaid skirt fell just above her knees, revealing her smooth, pale legs. With her hair tied back in two bunches that fell around her shoulders, she looked every part the schoolgirl.
I imagine that half the school — most of the boys and probably some of the girls too — got themselves off that night thinking about Ms Ball, myself included. Once alone, I tugged myself off, imagining the things that I would like to do with Ms Ball if we were alone. I fell asleep with the thought of finding out whether Ms Ball's carpet matched her drapes still on my mind.
Two days later I was studying alone in a free period at the end of the day when I looked at my watch and discovered I'd missed my bus. Although I was eighteen and could drive, I couldn't afford a car of my own. The school was a notorious phone blackspot, but I still looked at my phone and cursed when I saw I had no reception. Kicking myself for having my music up so loud that I didn't hear the bell, I packed up and made my way toward the administration building.
"What are you still doing here?" Principal Benson asked in surprise when I knocked on the door to the main staffroom. It seemed that I'd interrupted an after-school staff orientation meeting, because several heads of faculty and new teachers were there.
"I lost track of the time and missed my bus. I was hoping I could call my parents."
"There's a phone in the front office you can use. It should be unlocked."
"Great, thanks!"
"But actually," he continued as I was turning to leave, "I think Katrina lives in your direction." He turned to Ms Ball. "Katrina, would you mind giving this student a lift home?"
"No, not at all," Ms Ball said, flashing me her broad smile. "If you can wait ten minutes or so, that is."
"It'd take either of parents at least as long to get here, so that would be really nice of you. I'll wait in the foyer."
Although I harboured no delusions that I would ever be in a position to act out my fantasies, I was looking forward to the opportunity to observe Ms Ball more closely, and to etch her image in my mind.
As Ms Ball promised, she was among the throng of teachers that streamed toward the staff car park ten minutes later. "Here, let me help you," I offered, noticing Ms Ball was struggling with her stack of books and binders."
"Oh, how kind of you," she beamed. "Such a gentleman!"
I gave Ms Ball basic directions to my house as she led the way to her car. "That's not out of the way at all," she remarked. "I live only a few minutes further down the road."
We soon arrived at her small blue Ford and put our things on the backseat.
"I liked your costume, by the way," she said when we were on the road. "Dickens was a clever choice. Quite original."
"I'm glad someone got it. I kept having to explain it to people. I guess they would have recognised my costume if I'd gone as Shakespeare, but —"
"You didn't want to wear a bald cap," she finished my sentence with a laugh.
"Exactly," I said, joining in with her laughter.
"And it would be a real shame too, with your hair," she said, looking over at my dark, should-length locks. I felt my face flush, but her eyes had returned to the road.
"I liked your costume too." I'd never been particularly good at small talk, but I wanted to build on the rapport we seemed to be establishing. "I hadn't considered that the school uniform is basically just casual attire for anyone who doesn't have to wear it."
"I'm not really sure I managed to pull it off. It's been more than half a decade since I wore the school uniform!"
"I think most people would disagree with you on that one."
"That's kind of you to say, but there must be at least a hundred girls at school who wear it better."
"Oh, I don't know. I'm pretty sure you left a lasting impression."
"A lasting impression."
"Let's just say that it would have been pleasant dreams for a lot of students that night."
"Oh. I see." There was a long, awkward silence, but Ms Ball didn't seem visibly upset. I half-expected her to kick me out of the car and regretted how brazen I'd been. "Does that include you?" she asked softly, raising her eyebrows.
I considered lying, but felt that might just prolong the interrogation. Concluding that honesty was the best policy, I simply nodded under her watchful gaze and looked out the window, preparing for her to pull over and tell me to get out.
"That's a bold thing to admit to a teacher." Her voice was calm, and I could see her glancing at me in the reflection of the window. "Well, I'm flattered all the same." I remained impassive and Ms Ball changed the subject. "So, this is your final year?"
I was relieved and faced forward again. "Yeah, just this term and the next one to go, then exams, of course."
