Broken English (Broken Lives Book 1) Read Online Free Page B

been staring at me. He looked a
lot like Liam Neeson, just thirty-something and with a reddish-brown buzz cut.
He smiled at me, prompting me to look away instantly.
    Beverly sat back down. “Looks like you’ve
attracted Britain’s attention.”
    “Britain?” I asked, taking her lead and
sitting down too.
    “Paul is Scottish while the teacher
standing next to him is English. We call them Britain, because they usually
hang out together. Though, I really don’t understand why, since they’re always
arguing. Anyway, forget about them, I’m more interested in you. How has your
first day been so far?”
    “Good.” I took a sip of my coffee,
grimacing at the awful taste. It felt like an atom bomb had gone off inside my
mouth, the nuclear sludge contaminating my taste buds.
    Beverly laughed. “Yeah, the coffee here is
godawful.” She patted the top of a striped flask sitting on the table. “That’s
why I bring my own. Would you like some?”
    “No, thanks.” I pushed my cup away and grabbed
a bottle of water out of my satchel, more interested in decontaminating my
mouth.
    She grinned, looking like I was
entertaining her greatly. “No worries. So, what do you think of Wera High?”
    I took a gulp of water, swishing it around
my mouth and swallowing it down before answering her. “It’s nice.”
    Her eyebrows shot up. “ Nice is not
a word I’d use for this place. Rowdy, rude, loud, I could go on forever.”
    I smiled. “It is loud, and I must
admit the kids are slightly ruder than what I’m used to.”
    “ Slightly? Well, you mustn’t have
had the juvie class yet.”
    “What’s the juvie class?”
    “It’s a nickname we call the class that
has all the bad kids. Your opinion will not be the same after teaching
that one.”
    “Maybe I won’t get them.”
    “What years do you teach?”
    “Ten and Eleven.”
    She wrinkled her nose. “I’m sorry to say, but
they’re Year Elevens. If you’re unlucky and do get them, don’t react to their
baiting. If they ask you any inappropriate questions, ignore them, like they
haven’t even spoken. They’re also very liberal with their use of swearwords.
Unless you want to constantly tell them off, translate the f word to fabulous ,
the c one to cute , s to super , and the m word
to magnificent .”
    “What’s the m word?”
    Beverly lowered her voice. “ Motherfucker .
They love that word.”
    My eyebrows shot up. “You seriously expect
me to let them get away with saying that?”
    “If you don’t want to send half the class
to the principal’s office every lesson, yes. My suggestion is to only kick a
juvie kid out if they take things too far. As it is, you usually have to send
at least a couple of them to the principal’s office every lesson.”
    My mind went to the tall bully who’d
beaten up Dante, praying he wasn’t in the class. I shook the thought out of my
head. He was too big not to be a senior. Still...
    “Do you know of a boy called Ronald
McDonald?” I asked, expecting her to laugh at me.
    “Unfortunately, everyone who works here does.”
    I blinked in surprise, taken aback that
Dante hadn’t lied about the thug’s name. “That’s really his name?”
    She nodded. “How do you know him? He’s in
Year Thirteen, so he shouldn’t be in any of your classes.”
    “I caught him and two of his friends
beating up another boy. I had to step in to stop him.”
    Beverly’s dark eyebrows shot up. “Wow! You’re
brave, because Ronnie’s one scary kid. I always get the male teachers to deal
with him. Is the other boy all right?”
    “He said he was.”
    “Did you report the fight to the principal?”
    “I told his secretary since he was busy at
the time, but she said he already knew about it.”
    “Well, don’t approach Ronnie again. He’s one
of the gang kids. You have to think about your own safety first. It’s best to inform
the principal or Paul Aston,” she said, referring to the other drama teacher.
“They know how to deal with