ignominy

noun

1. public shame or disgrace

My next class is art history, and it is something that I've studied at a tertiary level with my first degree 'before'. I figured it will be helpful to take on courses that I've already studied before so I can move on to the next stage of my life without too much hassle. Art history is fascinating to me and I'm looking forward to it again.

Two corridors over and I'm hobbling into a class that has been set up like an old English study room, complete with giant globe on a stand and replica of famous painting and sculptures from throughout history. Talk about posh school. No slide show here, just pure art. I smiled widely as I stepped into the class with my crutches and moved towards the teacher who was sitting in his very own leather wing back chair, next to a digital roaring fire place with a terribly real looking moose head above the mantel.

"Is this for real?" I asked out loud.

"Ah, you must be our little lost blossom, Ms Twice. A pleasure to have you join our small class today." His ascent was very normal sounding, but the flamboyance was not. But I couldn't help grinning, thrilled to have found such an interesting way to pass my school days. Who knew art history could be so enlightening?!

Lunch found me following all the pretty little school kids to the cafeteria on the ground floor of the main building. There it opened up into a quad outdoor area of sorts, with more tables that good little private school kids could eat at. Or throw food at. Or scream and squeal. Or take selfies... You get the idea.

I had asked the kitchen staff to provide me with a lunch today and it looked absolutely amazing, but I needed to find a place to sit. I knew from my first timeline that eating on the upstairs mezzanine floor was strictly for seniors, and not just any category of seniors. It was where Eyva and her club of richest kids had their meals and planned their social lives together. I didn't want to go anywhere near them, so by bringing my own food to school for lunch, I could avoid the long cafe food line up and also avoid being seen by anyone from that group who would recognise me.

It was a well laid plan, until I literally bumped into Liam Ferguson on my way out a side door to the quad.

"Miss Twice. What a pleasure to see you again. I had heard you weren't starting here for another week due to not having the stitches out yet." He pointed to my knee and asked me how it was healing.

I couldn't move forward to get out of the large cafeteria as he was blocking the exit, but I also couldn't back up either because some younger kids were waiting behind me to leave the room. Much like I was trying to do.

"Mr Ferguson..."

"Liam. Please call me Liam."

"Mr Liam, I don't mean to be rude, but would you mind moving backwards a little so I can vacate the cafeteria?" I asked ever so nicely, nodding to the younger teens behind me.

"Oh, yes. Excuse me." He moved back outside and to one side of the door and I used that as an opportunity to leave him behind. I don't think he expected that. But I figured if he was genuine, he would follow me.

He did.

"This way, Ms Twice. I have a seating arrangement with the staff over behind their kitchen. If we keep it clean and tidy, we can hide away in here."

"Just you and me?"

"Oh, no. Jackson is here too." I raise an eyebrow but follow his directions to a little built up courtyard that is hidden behind some brick walls.

"Jackson is my cousin. He's a self-proclaimed book worm and hates the noise everywhere else, so he eats here everyday. You're most welcome to join us."

"You are one of the most conspicuous boys here at this Mt Sommers Private School. Are you telling me that not one blond bimbo doesn't know of your secret hideaway?"

"If you prick us, do we not bleed?" He held his hand over his heart and leaned backwards.

"The gentleman doth protest too much, methinks." I quoted back.

"Shuddup, and sit down or I'll kick you out." A gravely voice interrupted us. Liam dramatically places his hands over his mouth and mock whispers.

"That's Jackson. Be quiet or he'll bite his thumb at you." I couldn't help giggling at that. In the space of two minutes he'd quoted from two different Shakespeare plays and understood my own reference.

Jackson was a burly, motorbike building kinda guy. He wore a leather jacket over his school clothes and smelled like engine grease. All of the little creases of his knuckles and on the side of his neck showed black where he'd been unsuccessful in washing it off properly. When he looked up at my crutch shuffle into the courtyard, he did that typical chin lift greeting then stood up off the top of the wood picnic table he was sitting on.

"Sit here." No manners. No suggestion either. It was a demand. He pulled over a larger wooden throne sized seat to to the table that had engravings of students names from years gone by. He pointed to the large seat then, as I sat down, he gently lifted my leg up onto a bag that he place on the bench seat. Then be went back to reading on the table top.

Liam was a little stunned by the looks of him. His mouth was gold-fishing, open and close. By the time he was sure what just happened was real, I was already in my seat with my braced leg up.

Lunch was a caesar salad with extra bacon bits on top of the chicken. I had another container latched onto that with a noodle concoction that had cashew nuts and pork strips. They were both so yummy.

"You eat a lot for a girl." I didn't actually expect to hear Jackson speak again, but there you have it.

"Trying to put on weight."

"Good."

I couldn't help the snigger that slipped from my lips.

"Wanna try some?" I hand over my noodle dish and an extra spoon from my bag and Jackson actually took it.

"It is good. You can come again." He finished a few more mouthfuls then handed it back and proceeded to ignore me for the rest of the lunch break.

"I've never seen my cousin speak to anyone here before. What makes you so special?" Liam has moved another of the throne chairs next to mine and is eating a hamburger and fries.

"I dunno. Maybe he has a built in bullshit detector?" I shrug.

"I thought I had one of those once, then I met a firey little girl who taught me otherwise." Jackson snorted and gave Liam a dirty look and shook his head. I point to him while speaking to Liam.

"He calls bullshit on that statement."

"Don't tell me, you are a Jackson translator?"

"I dunno, maybe? Is he the kind of guy who lets silly little girls lead him around by their Tiffany & Co draped fingers? Or try to mediate with arseholes who hurt people because they are gay? Or intimidate young women in their own hospital rooms after just having had surgery? While they are still in their underwear?" Liam has a look on his face that I can only describe as ignominy. He looked very well chastised.

"No, I don't think he is." I quietly answer my own questions and finish my lunch in peace.