The boy sat in the gym teacher’s office listening to the rain. Know why you’re here? Mr Gempson was bald. His protruding ears had cauliflower cartilage and a vein stood out on his forehead. I wrote a swear word on my homework, replied the boy. On purpose? Sort of. I knew I wrote it but I forgot where. Gempson squinted. You spelt it wrong. The boy looked up. Sorry, sir? It’s W-H-O-R-E, he said, biting each letter, not H-O-A-R-E. Gempson thrust the sheet at him. Boy, I teach P.E. and I spell better than you. He seemed pleased. Go’n. Get.
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