Freddie was always a bit of a shit. Mrs Meller had always thought it.
That thought was especially strong now as he continued to swinging on his chair, defiant eyes locked with hers.
“I mean it Freddie, if you don’t stop that right now, you’re going to be spending the rest of the term in detention.”
His little defiant pig eyes narrowed at her, daring her to do something. The other kids pretended not to watch on, but Mrs Meller could feel them watching. “I mean it Freddie, at my old school a pupil was swinging on his chair like you are and he swung back too far and cracked his head open and he died.” She stared at him, willing him to believe the story.
“Everyone says that, miss, all my teachers had some kid die.”
“Right, I’m not going to argue with you Freddie,” Bollocks. When did he get so smart. “I’ll see you in detention.
* * *
She was marking some homework when Freddie started leaning back on his chair. Detention was about half way done. She glanced up but he was still doing his work. He wasn’t doing it maliciously, Mrs Meller realised, it was just comfortable. She felt bad for him, it must be tough.
Mrs Meller turned her attention back to the workbooks in front of her, letting poor Freddie get on with his work.
The next thing she knew, there was a scrap, a cry and a sickening crack. It took her a moment to process it all. A moment before she could look up and see Freddie, crumpled in a heap on the floor with his head caved in and neck broken, his chair lying on its back beneath him where he’d swung too far.
At least she wouldn’t need to make up stories for future pupils now.
Harry Daniel 