Harry stifled a yawn. She ached from head to toe, her sleepless night had left her running on empty and the day was dragging, to make matters worse. Why hadn't she just stayed home for the day, like David had wanted? With her arm bandaged up and the purple tinge to the foundation covering her chin, everyone would have understood and no-one would have thought any worse of her, she was sure.

Still, what would she have done at home? It hurt to lay down and the paperwork from the previous night's debacle was piling. And, anyway she didn't want to give the jerk that'd jumped her the satisfaction of knowing he'd gotten away and slowed her down into the bargain.

Annelisse had her hand in the air ready to answer Harry's question. If only Harry could remember what she had asked.

She and David should have ignored that blasted alarm just like Sergeant Stone said. If only David hadn't been so damn chivalrous. He had only raced off to catch whomever was messing with her school. She hadn't technically even been Principal then, so it wasn't really even her duty to ensure it wasn't damaged. Then, anyway. It was possible that she would have inherited a colossal mess when she'd started her first 'official' day, but the way she was feeling, that would have been better than what had transpired. At least she'd have gotten some sleep. And at least she'd have been able to lay down, or write on the whiteboard using her dominant hand.

"Thanks, Annelisse. What do you think?" she asked, keeping her terminology general until she figured out what discussion she was leading. It'd come back to her in a minute.

"I don't think that Romeo is relatable at all. Romeo was just a love sick teenager. He starts off pining over Rosaline and then he sees another pretty girl and next thing he's obsessed with her, and Rosaline's completely forgotten. Then he kills himself over the supposed death of a girl he'd known for a few days. What teenager would act that way, even at the end of the 16th Century? As a main character, Romeo sucks." Annelisse flipped her hair.

That's right, I was asking about whether the characters were relatable, mystery solved.

She continued on with her lesson. She needed to know exactly what the students had done so far, so that she could figure out what exactly what she needed to teach them.

Apart from the fact that only three of the students seemed to have any interest in the topic of Shakespeare at all, the class had been behaving perfectly so far. The 7s and 8s had been earlier in the day as well. She kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it hadn't as yet. Perhaps they felt sorry for her in her injured state, but she didn't think that was it.

At the beginning of her lesson that morning, she'd seen one of the junior boys, Drew, stop his mate from doing something to her (she didn't know what, she just knew that he was standing up and had that general look of mischeif). Drew stopped him simply by saying, "I wouldn't, she actually said 'no' to Sam."

The kid had instantly sat, like defying that awful man had revealed her as something truly terrifying.

Harry wanted Dupret's blood. She very much doubted that someone had attempted to break in the very night that she'd been asked for access to the school without there being a connection. If only she knew the community well enough to know who he'd gotten to do it, or if she could trust the Sergeant enough to tell her about the conversation in her office. With Sergeant Stone already appearing to hate her though, and if Dupret really did have as much "influence" as he said he did, then she wasn't game to share any of her suspiscions with anyone in relation to the town's business consultant. She would need to hope that if she played the waiting game, he would eventually reveal his scheme. And when he did, she would be ready.

She looked over at Troy. His expression had shifted tremendously since the previous day. No longer was he scowling or looking at her with loathing. That had been replaced with a smarmy grin. It was somewhat predatorial; as if he prepared for a great hunt. She tried not to squirm under his gaze. It made her feel dirty, like she was doing something untoward.

She had seen boys look at young female teachers that way before. Sometimes they were delusional enough to believe that they could actually be a part of a Mrs Robinson-like scenario and the young teachers were too nice or too uncomfortable to properly discourage them, and other times they just enjoyed watching the women writhe. Harry was married with a child, about to turn thirty, had her arm bandaged and her face bruised. She had no doubts that the latter was what was happening in this case.

"What are you're thoughts about Romeo and Juliet, Troy?" she asked, attempting to divert him from making her want to vomit, "I'm assuming you've finished reading the play?"

A little red head Grade 9 boy with bucked teeth, whom Harry instantly felt sorry for, grinned at Troy mumbling something she couldn't hear.

"Shut up, Adrian! Yes, Mrs Hill, I've read it. Unlike my sister, I don't so much believe that Romeo sucks, it's just that Juliet's a twit. She could have aligned with someone who would have given her wealth and power, and instead she chose to ruin both hers and Romeo's families. That's still relevant today, people choose all the time between power and ideals. Most people in the real world just choose right."

The looks on the faces of the two Year 9 girls in the front row were as shocked as Harry's. It appeared that Troy French didn't often provide much in the way of rich conversation in English. He spoke with a cockiness that made it clear he was still trying to toy with her, but his opinion gave her great opportunity for class discussion.

"Thanks for that contribution, Troy. Does anyone else have anything to weigh in?"

Having seen Troy participate, Romeo and Juliet was now a topic that others seemed interested in. Annelise eyed him carefully across the room.  The other 8 hands shot into the air.

***

Harry skipped out straight after class. That last period of the day had gone so much faster once the students had all decided to pick apart the characters' flaws, but she didn't have anything left in the tank to keep going with another couple of hours' worth of work. She'd returned home, flopped on the couch, and preceded to nap while Charlie cuddled her.

She'd woken a little while later to find David staring into their fridge, still freshly stocked from the day before, looking as exhausted as she felt. Based on the now dozing toddler, Harry had needed to slide out from under, she assumed that Charlie hadn't slept all day, and therefore David wouldn't have caught up on any sleep from the night before either.

"Let's try the pub tonight," she said, placing her good arm around his waist.

"That sounds perfect. I just don't think I can concentrate enough to cook anything right now."

His eyes moved across her cheeks and he pushed her chin up into the light. Anguish was written all over his face.

"It wasn't your fault," she soothed, "I should have stayed put."

"If I hadn't thought myself so smart, he would have ran into me instead of being left lurking, ready to attack you."

She knew what he meant. She had assumed that he had taken off across the school, the most direct route to the school buildings, but he had taken off down the road, figuring that the burglar would have tried to escape down the road and he would be able to cut them off. He had been wrong. While he had ran around the long way and eventually met with the Sergeant. The criminal had hid behind the school, becoming trapped when Harry had stumbled in one way, and David and the Sergeant had then began talking from the other. This had forced her assailant to fight his way out, choosing to take on Harry while she was alone and in the dark, rather than waiting for the voices near the school to join them. At least that was what they had pieced together.

She hugged him tightly, lending him the little piece of strength she had left.

Only half an hour later, they had Charlie awake and were sitting in the restaurant at the back of the Mercy Hotel. It was a quaint little beer garden. Indoor trees lined the walls and a large gas heater generated enough warmth that Harry needed to remove her coat.

They ate their meal in relative silence. David was introspective, and no matter how much coaxing Harry offered, he did not want to engage in anything other than his own wallowing. It broke her heart to see him blame himself for something he could have in no way predicted. It was nobody's fault, like in Romeo and Juliet, it wasn't that Romeo sucked. It was just a heap of people making their own choices, which, when combined, led to one shitty consequence.

She got up to get herself another drink from the bar.

As she walked between rooms, she felt herself being watched. She looked around for the source. Eyes bore into her skull; those onyx eyes that were too beautiful for any mere mortal. Looking directly into them, she steeled herself and turned back towards the counter.