Coldness creeps through Seb but he forces himself to shake his head and Ben, smiling properly now, says, ‘I think we’d better have a little chat.’
Ben steers Seb into the SEN room, a home office-style shed, separate to the rest of the school. Seb puts the ‘session in progress’ sign on the door so they won’t be disturbed. As soon as the door is closed, Ben hands Seb his work phone. It’s open on an email and Seb immediately recognizes the Action! website – an organization that hosts and facilitates online petitions. Seb has signed plenty in his time; he remembers one against a huge development just outside Waverly. He looks at the headline for the one Ben’s showing him.
Petition to Remove Sebastian Kent from Waverly Community Secondary School
Seb feels the initial shock of recognition, the sting of his name so formally written, and then every vein in his body seems to tighten and tighten as he reads on.
Since September, Sebastian Kent has been head teacher at our beloved school. But recently some disturbing truths have come to light that reveal his true nature. It transpires that Sebastian Kent has dubious moral standing and his values do not align with those of the school. He has recently been involved in disturbing, transgressive and immoral behaviours and we are very concerned for the safety and wellbeing of our children. We do not feel that he is safe to be around.
Seb can’t read any more, forcing himself to look at the bottom of the page. The petition to destroy him already has forty-two signatures.
His hands shake as he passes the phone back to Ben.
‘Well then,’ he says, having to stop to swallow, ‘at least that explains why no one said hello this morning.’
Ben looks serious as he asks, ‘Do you know who wrote it?’
Seb breathes out. Anna loves this website, often emailing links to various petitions.
‘I have a good idea.’ He adds, ‘Do you know who’s seen it?’
‘I don’t know any staff member who hasn’t, I’m afraid, and it’s …’ Ben looks at his watch. ‘Not yet quarter to nine,’ he says before hurriedly adding, ‘We’re all hoping there’s nothing to it, of course.’
Seb looks directly at him. ‘Do you think I’m unsafe?’
‘Seb, we’ve worked together for almost a decade. No, I don’t think you’re unsafe, but the rumour mill is in overdrive. There are already accusations flying around about secret drug issues, that sort of thing.’
Ben’s doing his best to ally himself, but Seb can still feel his eyes on him, uncertain, ready for Seb to twitch or give any sign that there might be some credence to the gossip.
‘I see.’
‘Maybe if you tell us what it is about, then all this insane speculation will come to an end …’
‘Maybe.’
‘So go on, then,’ Ben says, narrowing his eyes. ‘Have you gambled with school money?’
Seb feels like he’s going to vomit as Ben raises one eyebrow and asks, half joking, half not joking, ‘Or do you have a secret life no one knows about?’
Seb realizes he’s run out of energy to defend himself. He won’t do it, he can’t. Ben’s face drops as he sees that Seb can’t return his smile. ‘Thanks for filling me in, Ben. I’d better get going.’
‘Yeah, don’t want to add to the rumour mill. Mr Clegg and Mr Kent discovered in the SEN shed!’
Seb doesn’t acknowledge Ben’s lame joke, lets the door bang closed behind him as he leaves.
By midday the petition has seventy-two signatures and has been viewed hundreds of times. Seb heads out into the sunshine and walks quickly to the far end of the playing fields, behind the crumbling sports pavilion, just over the school boundary, where the older kids come to smoke and snog under the protective boughs of an ancient oak tree. He thinks about going to see his mum, but he can’t bear the thought of telling Eva about the petition. She is strong and clear-sighted, yes, but she isn’t immune to anguish. Feeling her shame at this new twist would uproot him entirely.
He takes out his phone, hovers his thumb over Anna’s number. It’d feel so good to call her and scare her, to tell her how small and pathetic she is, but talking to Anna would be like trying to unpick a hook from his own kidney. It would be agonizing and only make everything worse.
He scrolls down to Rosie’s name; he’d love to hear her voice. She must have seen the petition. But what if she hasn’t seen it, what if there is still a chance that he could keep it from her?
He presses the call button, and she picks up immediately. She’s walking somewhere fast, slightly out of breath. ‘Just when we thought things couldn’t get any worse!’ she says without greeting, and his heart sinks. She’s seen it.
‘It’s Anna,’ he says, his voice heavy.
‘Of course it’s Anna,’ she snaps back. ‘I thought you were going to talk to Eddy, get him to calm her down.’
‘Yeah, that didn’t go so well.’
‘Evidently.’
He hates how they sound more like Eddy and Anna than themselves. They’d listen to their friends argue like this, Seb raising an eyebrow at Rosie, Rosie smiling back, both feeling smug because they weren’t slowly destroying each other, their relationship was better. Steadier. That’s what he always believed. On the other end of the line Rosie sighs.
‘You OK?’ he asks, worried, and she snaps again, ‘Of course I’m not fucking OK! I’ve just had Lotte and Vita calling, both telling me how worried they are, that they’re here for me, and then digging, trying to find out what it is you’ve done. They’re both secretly delighted, of course.’
‘Shit.’
‘Well, what do you expect? It won’t take them long to figure out it was Anna who wrote the thing, and she’ll buckle and tell them as soon as they put any kind of pressure on.’
She pauses, sniffs, before adding, ‘She’s got a point, of course. After all, you were using school property to book whores. It’s a total ticking time bomb. I started looking up flights to Australia this morning right after reading the petition.’
Seb holds his breath and waits for Rosie to clarify, which she does, ‘For me and the kids, I mean, obviously.’
He doesn’t say anything.
The pause turns into silence. Wherever she is, she’s stopped walking. She sighs again before she asks, ‘Do the students know?’
Seb clears his throat to cut the vision of his kids boarding a plane to the other side of the world without him and manages to say, ‘Not yet. There’s a part in the email where she advises parents to keep their kids out of it until a “resolution” is reached, but it won’t be long until someone lets it slip.’
He wonders if Rosie, like him, is thinking about Abi, about Lily, but neither of them mentions their names.
Instead, Rosie asks, ‘What does she mean, “resolution”?’
‘The only one she suggests is my resignation.’
Rosie sighs again.
‘Do you think that’s what I should do? Resign today?’
‘I don’t think you have any choice, and if the students are about to find out, well, you’ll have hell to pay … I’m thinking about Sylvie, mostly.’
Sylvie is supposed to be joining the school next September. There’s a brief silence, both trying to imagine their daughter starting secondary school with everyone knowing about Seb. It would be impossible. He won’t let it happen. Rosie is right: there is no choice.
‘I’ll write to the governors and resign today.’
‘Fine,’ she says wearily. ‘Anything else?’ She asks like they’re writing their weekly shopping list.
‘No. I guess I might be back earlier today.’
‘Go to your mum’s,’ she says sharply before hanging up.
This is it. Forced to give up everything that he’s worked for for over twenty years. The job he adores, the work he is good at, the kids he’s watched grow, the kids he believes in. He kicks the base of the tree with the toe of his shoe before sitting on the grass, his elbows resting on his splayed knees. He holds his head and cries until his throat is raw and he feels his scar beating with blood. He stops, and is about to get ready to go again when he hears muffled laughter coming from the other side of the pavilion. He walks slowly around and watches Ethan and a couple of other kids whose backs he doesn’t recognize running away, across the playing field, back to school.