When I arrive for my Biology lesson, Slug is already sitting in his usual spot at the dead center of the classroom, beaming happily at everyone around. I greet him half-heartedly and quickly take a seat in the back, watching the others trickle in. Gnat is the last to arrive, as always, seeking out the table next to me, just as he has done since he joined our class. I’ve stopped fighting it. The fact that it annoys the hell out of me seems to be part of the fun.
We’ve only just sat down when Miss Bleach’s head pops around the doorpost, miraculously balancing a chaotic hair bun on top of it. “Ah, you are already here! Super sweet, but class is Wednesday, remember?”
“But,” answers Lilith, a girl whose maternal instinct seems to kick in when confronted with Miss Bleach’s confusion, “it is Wednesday today, miss.”
“Is it? Good. I really hate Tuesdays. Glad I skipped it.” The absurdity of this casual remark dumbfounds the class for a fleeting moment before an ear-deafening buzz erupts.
“Yes, yes,” she laughs, “it’s quite something, isn’t it, time? We are lucky that it goes round in circles. There is always a second chance.”
With ease, she lives up to her reputation as the most chaotic teacher ever. She seems to forget everything—not only our names, our homework assignments, and the names of her colleagues, but even what day or season it is.
Next to me, Gnat releases a deep, contemptuous sigh. He hates all teachers, but he hates Miss Bleach most of all. I’m not sure why. She’s completely harmless. “There is only one thing going round in circles, and that’s her brain,” he hisses viciously, just a little too loudly. Students around us start laughing. Even Miss Bleach notices.
“What was that... eh... James?”
“Nothing, miss, just an inside joke,” Gnat replies, straight-faced.
“Those are the best, aren’t they? But enough chit-chat for now, we have things to do. First, I’ll return the entry test you took earlier this week. You’ll find your grades in the top right corner.”
I slump back in my chair. The one thing we’ve learned in these first lessons is that handing out test results is an ultimately time-consuming exercise in Miss Bleach’s class.
“Steven, where are you?”
“Right in front of you, miss.”
“Really? Are you sure?”
“Eh... yes, miss... pretty sure.” She looks at him suspiciously, not bothered by the increasing laughter and unrest in the classroom.
“Well, okay then,” she reluctantly gives in. “Here’s your grade. B minus.” And so it goes on. Somehow, she doesn’t believe that a lot of students really belong to their name. Maybe she finally got wind of the fact that we have been using fantasy names all week. A silly prank to test if the stories about her legendary absentmindedness were actually true. The funny thing is that she’s only suspicious when students have used their real names but doesn’t hesitate with those who used overtly fake ones. “Helga? Ah, there you are.” She looks me straight in the face. No sign of suspicion, notwithstanding the fact that two days ago I called myself Hännelore and Heidi yesterday. Gnat is the last one on her list.
“William Julius Maria John Bonaventure Cheater.” She looks brightly and without hesitation at the boy sitting next to me with an ever-growing thundercloud above his head. The whole entry test-return-exercise has lasted about half an hour, which is at least 25 minutes too long according to Gnat. He obviously hasn’t much patience with other people’s shortcomings.
“Close one, William. Better take an example from your girlfriend Hännelore.” Gnat looks away in an attempt to control himself, but when he sees me laughing, something snaps. Being embarrassed by someone he loathes as much as he does Miss Bleach must be unbearable to him. His hair, normally glued to his skull with enormous amounts of hair gel, starts to rise up. It’s almost like sparks are flying from him. Sparks are flying from him. The smell of ozone pricks my nose. He raises his hand and stretches his fingers. The sparks gather at the tips... he’s about to... and then... a pencil case, heavy with pens, pencils, markers, erasers, and paperclips, hits the side of his head. My pencil case. Instantly, the sparks are gone.
Gnat turns to me, his eyes blazing, but I can only shrug my shoulders. I don’t know what else I could’ve done to stop him from committing an epic stupidity.
He raises his hand, the entire class holds its breath, but then he hisses one more time, sits down, and stares vacantly at an invisible point in the distance.
Most of the students look confused, as if they just woke up from a dream. Miss Bleach, however, seems uncharacteristically focused, looking at us with piercing eyes. Sometimes I suspect that her absentmindedness is only an act, but her next sentence dispels this suspicion immediately.
“Kind of you to help your friend with his homework, Helga. You’re a real friend.” She pauses. “So, darlings, get your books out and open them to chapter six: photosynthesis.” Everyone turns to the front of the classroom again.
“Mind your own business, Tinderstick. I don’t need a mother,” Gnat whispers so only I can hear.
“Well, don’t act like a baby then,” I retort. For a moment, he is silent, but then he makes a sound that is as unexpected as it is disarming: he laughs. I look at him, totally taken by surprise. That’s all I need, a schizophrenic friend.