Chapter Text
Chapter One
~*~Denotes dream or thought~*~
James awoke to his 5:15 alarm, his scalp still tingling from the night before. He had a bad feeling about what had happened since Michelle seemed distracted after looking at her phone to call Paolo’s for a pizza. He limped out of bed and over to this full-length mirror. He was really going to need those crutches from Erin. When he got to his mirror and peered into it, he screamed. “Ahhhhh! Michelle what have you done?!”
Michelle stumbled in, rubbing her eyes, a whole minute later. She did a once over of James and settled on his head. “Holy shite! You look like that wee creepy clown fucker from McDonald’s!”
“I do not look like Ronald McDonald!” James yelled in protest, knowing that he was wrong. “How do we fix it?! You did this!” Somehow, something had gotten mixed up and James now had bright red hair that resembled a clown’s.
“Aye, Ronald McDonald! That’s his name. You look like our man, Ronald McDonald!” Michelle insisted.
“Again,” asked James, his voice climbing higher, “how do we fix it?! I have to leave for school around 7:00.”
“Well…” Michelle said, treacherously, “I hate to say this, but there’s nothing we can do about it right now.” She was looking over his hair. “If we put chemicals on top of chemicals, your hair will fall plumb out. Plus, you don’t have time for that this morning.”
James groaned. “So, I have to go to my first day on the job, looking like an American fast food mascot? Bloody brilliant. Michelle, you must fix this as soon as possible, and you owe me!”
“It was an accident, fuckface, just like you, and it turned out grand. Don’t worry. I’ll sort you out later. But right now, you need to go get ready for your first day,” Michelle replied.
***
James dragged his broken, sorry ass to the front of Our Lady Immaculate College, to meet Erin. There she was, to greet him. She had (unwisely) chosen her plaid outfit that made her look too much like Cher Horowitz and due to the scuffle the day before, she was sporting an arm sling. She had the promised crutches for James, propped up against the gate, as she was reading while waiting on James.
“7:15 on the dot,” Erin said. “I like a practical ma-JESUS WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR HAIR, JAMES?!”
“Your Aunt Sarah and Michelle happened,” he sighed, wanting to disappear into the sidewalk.
“You could have said nooo…” Erin reminded him.
“And deal with that guilt trip?” James asked. “No thank you!”
“Well, at least take the crutches,” Erin insisted, foisting them upon James, seeing him almost topple over no fewer than three times thus far.
“Thanks,” James said, taking them and resting himself upon them. “Ah, that’s better.”
“Don’t get too comfortable,” said Erin, “because we still have to get through Sister Michael’s welcome speech.”
“Christ Almighty,” James lamented. “Alright, let’s go. Surely, she can’t still be just as bad as when we were in school… right?” He wasn’t convinced, nor was he convincing anyone.
***
Before she was to go out on stage to introduce staff and welcome in the new semester, she took a moment to think about how close it came to this semester becoming more of a scandal.
~*~”Dear Mr. Phil Gilbert,
Thank you for your interest in employment at Our Lady Immaculate College. We have decided to go another direction with the English & Creative Writing teacher role for which you applied. We encourage you to apply again in the future, when other roles you may be suited for become available. We wish you the best of luck on your future endeavors.
Sincerely,
Sister George Michael”
Sister Michael sighed as she clicked “send” on the email. There had been plenty of more applicants for the job, including the person who had gotten the job–James Maguire, a former student of hers. She wished she had been hiring Mr. Gilbert, but she knew if she did, she’d be in Confession a lot more often. She knew that with hiring James, she definitely wouldn’t have that issue, as he was one of the banes of her existence…
She got an email back almost immediately.
“Dear Sister Michael,
Don’t you worry another second about it. Like a cat, I have landed on my feet. I start at Londonderry Boy’s Academy on 12th January. I do believe I left my scarf in your office. I will be by on 5th January to retrieve it. I have business in Derry that day. Until then…
Sincerely,
Phil Gilbert
Sister Michael got a knot in her stomach, not sure if it was her being giddy over the prospect of seeing this man again or the guilt from knowing that she liked it, if so–maybe both. Either way, she was trying not to let her feelings get her into trouble.~*~
She snapped back to present day, 5th January, and tried to steady herself and her feelings about Mr. Gilbert. She was about to step out on stage, and she needed to appear unrattled and respectable.
Sister Michael stepped out onto stage, up to the microphone. “Hello, school, welcome back. Faculty…” then she turned to look at the faculty–Erin with scratch on her head, bandaged up, with an arm sling and wearing a bad-kind-of-90s outfit, James with bright red hair and getting around on crutches, and Father Peter, with a black eye. “...or what’s left of a faculty, I suppose, welcome. Even if we’re clueless, hoppin’ like a kangaroo, or look like we went through a Hell in a Cell match with The Undertaker…” she kept on, taking the piss.
“‘Least I don’t have the hots for a giant Welsh half Prod,” remarked Father Peter under his breath. Sister Michael caught exactly what he said.
“THIS IS FATHER PETER,” she spoke over him, giving him an evil, “I’ll kill you” glare. “And he will see me in my office after this assembly.”
“Ooooh!” went the entire school crowd. Father Peter “hmphed” and crossed his arms.
“This,” Sister Michael motioned to James, “is Mr. Maguire. Yes, he’s English, but we choose to ignore it. He’ll be teaching English and Creative Writing.”
“And this,” she pointed to Erin, “is Miss Quinn. She will correct you incessantly. Good luck if you have her for our new Journalism class.”
“If it’s okay, I’d like to say a few words,” Erin said, getting up to approach the podium and microphone.
“It’s not,” said Sister Michael, brushing her off. Then she turned her attention back to the crowd. “You only have to make it til May. Don’t lose the run of yourselves. I’m watching all of you. Now, dismissed. Make the most of your day or whatever.”
As the kids started stirring and breaking off into groups, James grabbed his crutches and said to Erin, “I’m gonna go walk this off.”
As he made his way through his “friendly” new environment, the students hurled verbal abuse at him. Among the insults were, “Hey Ronald hair, I’m lovin’ it”, “nonce clown”, and “paedo clown”. When he got to the hallway, that’s when he thought he could breathe.
As he walked down the hallway, he looked to the left of him and spied what appeared to be a new addition to the building. He wasn’t all too interested in that moment because he already needed a breather before even starting his first day. He was just going to walk past this new door until his peripheral vision caught what the gold placard on the door said. He turned on his heel to come back and make sure he had read it correctly.
The James Maguire Boy’s Toilets Est. 2003 by The Joyce Family
“They can’t possibly be serious,” James said, lamenting over yet something else his friends would tease him about.
***
Erin was setting up for the right kind of mood in her classroom. She may have looked foolish at the assembly, but maybe she could salvage her reputation by making a cool classroom experience. She was going through a stack of CDs, before she landed on her Waterloo album by ABBA, and played the title song. She thought this was sufficient and went on to prepare the rest of her classroom and set up for her first lesson.
At that moment, Phil Gilbert was passing Erin’s classroom and cringing. “Eww, ABBA,” he said.
In Sister Michael’s office, Father Peter was fearing for his life. “Speak,” Sister Michael barked at him. “What do you know?”
Faced with knowing that Sister Michael knew that he knew things, Father Peter wasn’t exactly sure how to play this. “I know enough… to know that you shouldn’t be having feelings for someone…” his voice got lower, more dangerous, “...especially someone you almost hired.”
“Yes and how, exactly, did you know these things, Father Peter?” Sister Michael asked, challenging him.
“Well, I was… I was…” Father Peter got stuck on the truth.
“That’s what I thought,” said Sister Michael. “So if your idea was getting me into trouble, then good luck doing so without incriminating yourself.”
“That was never my intent. I just wanted you to-” Father Peter started.
“It’s always just something, isn’t it, Father Peter?” she asked. “But think about it. You already left once, to pursue that hairdresser, was it? What would they think of you abusing your power as a priest? I don’t think there would be a third chance.”
Father Peter sighed bitterly, knowing she was right, but still craving her validation. “Fine,” he replied, “I won’t say anything if you won’t. But we both have to get it together. Our best is to go to God.”
“I’ll handle my relationship with God, and you handle yours,” Sister Michael stopped him. “But I’m glad we’re on the same page here.”
Then, there was a knock on her door. “Hello?” bellowed a man from behind the door.
“Yes, come in,” said Sister Michael, not realizing who it was.
In walked Phil Gilbert, practically stooping to miss the doorframe. “Well hello, Sister!” he beamed upon seeing Sister Michael.
“Mr. Gilbert, what a pleasure to see you!” Sister Michael ushered him into her office. “Mr. Gilbert… Father Peter, Father Peter… Mr. Gilbert.” she introduced the two.
“Nice to meet you, Padre,” said Mr. Gilbert. “Maybe it’s a good thing I’m only up here to get my scarf. One of your teachers is playing bloody ABBA out of her classroom door.”
“Yes, nice to meet you…”, said Father Peter, “...nice to meet you, indeed…”