Chapter 1

I didn't see it coming at all. I didn't see it, didn't see her, creep up on me and get under my skin, leave me so exposed, so raw that I found it very difficult to handle what came my way.

She was thirteen going on fourteen. She stood out due to the fact she didn't have on a school uniform like every other person in the class. Her clothes were functional, plain and worn but immaculately clean and patched with what looked like hard work to simply keep the frayed ends together.

She was one of my new students this year, a class full of girls and boys her age, here to study business management. She was more than quiet, she seemed almost speechless and the others singled her out, picked on her because she was different, because she stood out, because she wasn't part of the crowd.

I was immediately impressed by the way she managed to take the constant jibes, the comments about her clothes, her mousy look, the comments that she was nothing but a loser. I admired her courage in being able to take all that they threw at her.

I'm a recently qualified teacher. Twenty-four years old, single, male and still full of the vocational zest that led me to want to be a teacher in the first place. I was driven by the belief that I could help shape young minds, stretch them, enthuse them, help them identify their purpose and get the best possible start in life.

The idea that anyone in one of my classes would get a raw deal was like a red rag to a bull. No way, not on my watch, no child would be getting short-changed while I was around.

I reviewed the school's information on Kirsty MacLeod. That was her name. Her attendance in her first two years was almost exemplary but her academic performance was nothing short of dire. The file said there were confidential background notes available on her too and I put in a request for access through the school office.

In the first few weeks I came down hard on those that were picking on her, believing they would soon get the message. On some of these occasions I could see her look at me strangely as if she was surprised someone was defending her.

She remained behind after class one day, obviously nervous about speaking to me. She hadn't spoken even once during class in this first two weeks that I could remember, so I knew this had to be very important if it had forced her into taking such a step.

I remember smiling at her to encourage her and to try and help her relax and get whatever it was off of her chest. She was twisting the hem of the thin jumper she wore, twisting it quite harshly as she tried to get her nerves under control. Once more I tried to help her.

"Kirsty, something is obviously bothering you and it looks like you want to talk to me about it. I promise I don't bite, honest. Why don't you just say what it is straight out."

Her eyes remained downcast as she stuttered an explanation of why she was here. It seems that the class bullies, while tempering their behaviour in my class, had simply escalated their treatment of her everywhere else in the school. My well-intentioned intervention had simply served to make the squad even more hostile than they had been before. Kirsty wanted to thank me for trying to help her but asked that I stop doing it because she feared she would suffer more in the long run.

"No one has ever been nice to me Sir, never. So I feel really bad about throwing it back in your face like this. But, I think I can look after myself."

At last she looked up at me and I could see the deep sadness she felt contained in her deep brown eyes. I thought I also caught a hint of something else but it was fleeting, gone in an instant.

"You know the school has a zero tolerance policy on bullying and I think you're very brave for standing up to them, but you don't need to do this on your own. Anything that interferes with your safety, health, well being and education are all issues that I can't just ignore. So, if you want me to take a softer line with this squad you're going to have to give me a better reason than 'you think you can look after yourself'."

"Um, I don't know Sir. I just want to look out for myself and the easiest way of doing that is for you to back off, please?"

"Kirsty, I'll do a deal with you. You let me do my job and I'll make sure you get the chance at an education. These guys need to learn sometime that they can't go through life treating people like this. What's next for goodness sake? They'll graduate from bullying to gang crime. No, this stops here. I'm sorry but I have to take action."

She gave me one final look before turning and leaving my classroom. The look was a mixture of resignation and perhaps fear.

I made my way to the school office and asked the secretary if my request for Kirsty's confidential notes had been actioned. It had and the secretary asked me to sign to show that I had received them. I took the notes back to my class and shut the door behind me so I would be undisturbed while I read them. This wasn't pleasant reading. Kirsty was living with her alcoholic father, her mother having disappeared, abandoning her at an early age. Social services had her on the 'at risk' register because there had been a number of occasions when it had appeared as if her father had beaten her very badly indeed.

The notes made it clear that Kirsty had never admitted her father beat her, always having some excuse ready to try to explain the bruising, and on one occasion a broken arm. The fact the man was drinking heavily, that she was living alone with him, combined with the beatings, were what put her on the register.

I put the notes down on my desk. Life certainly was dealing Kirsty MacLeod a shitty hand. I was determined to do what I could to try and do something about that part of her life she spent in school. Other professionals would have to deal with the rest of it I thought, not realising what the future held.

I returned the notes to the office and asked the secretary if the Head Teacher was in his office. He was and I knocked his door before entering.

"What can I do for you Ken?" He asked me.

This was Richard Henderson - 'Tricky Dicky' to all the kids in school (does every Head teacher have to have a derogatory nickname?) - Head Teacher of Alban High School.

"It's about a kid in one of my third year classes," I told him, "she seems to be the subject of sustained bullying by a group of the other kids. I've read her confidential notes and she's on the 'at risk' register as well. I feel strongly that the school needs to do something to protect her."

"Ken, we have a responsibility to make sure every child at this school is safe. If what you're telling me is true then you'll have my full backing in taking all necessary action to stamp this out. Now, who are we talking about, who is the girl and who are the ones picking on her?"

I realised I had probably come across as a little sanctimonious, my opening focussed too much on the girl and me riding in to save her, rather than the general school policy. Still, he was agreeing to do something about it and that had been my goal.

It was important to make sure he knew Kirsty wasn't a troublemaker herself, as that would colour his thinking and perhaps limit how far he was willing to go. So, sharing the details of what I knew, I pointed out that Kirsty had an exemplary attendance record, despite her home situation, albeit that her results seemed poor. The Head suggested he would review Kirsty's timetable and speak to some of her other teachers to find out whether they had noticed anything untoward.

"Oh, oh," I thought to myself, "if no one else has gone to the bother of reporting this, they're not going to admit to witnessing bullying, are they?"

I suggested a better approach might be for him to simply happen to be in the corridors outside some of Kirsty's classes in the hope of spotting the bullying himself. I also gave him the idea that it would be worthwhile looking at the discipline record of the four worst offenders in terms of the behaviour I had witnessed.

Henderson frowned. It was clear he recognised my response as indicating I had no confidence in my fellow teachers telling him anything. Now I wasn't being a team player and he didn't like that, no Head wants somebody on the staff rocking the boat.

"Okay Ken. I will speak to some of Ms MacLeod's other teachers, but I'll try your way as well."

That was about as much as I could hope for I guessed. I thanked him and left to return to my classroom.

A week later I found a note on the floor of my classroom asking me to meet with Henderson sometime that day. I had four classes to deal with, three in the morning and one in the afternoon so I had some free time just before lunch. After my last class of the morning had streamed out of the room I locked the door behind me and made for the office.

The secretary, Jill, told me Henderson was expecting me and that I should go right in.

"Ah, Ken, thanks for coming to see me," he said, "take a seat."

I sat in a chair facing his desk and waited to hear how he had got on with my erstwhile colleagues.

"Okay, I've spoken to some of Ms MacLeod's teachers and they all report the same thing. Yes, they have noticed the four you've identified picking on her, but they describe it as low-grade stuff, some name-calling, put-downs and such. Nothing they felt worth reporting."

I made as if to speak, but he stopped me.

"No, no, let me finish. I've followed her around off and on over the past two days and I am convinced it's more than that. The verbal stuff is constant and if she's been suffering that over a prolonged period the mental damage could be severe. But I also saw more, intimidation - no actual physical assault but extreme intimidation. I've decided to call the parents of all four in to see me. This is simply not acceptable and it will stop."

"Thank you Headmaster, for going the extra mile and for believing in me enough to even consider it."

"That's one of the main reasons we're here Ken, they're our responsibility while we have them. The other teachers can't be blamed for not picking up on it, as in each individual class it didn't really add up to much."