SATURDAY NIGHT

I stumble out of the house and turn right instead of left. There's a 24-hour supermarket near Cheryl's where I can stock up on everything people buy at this time of night and, bonus, it's only just nine o'clock. I get to earn brownie points for making it home two hours earlier than I promised Mum.

Talking of brownies, I allow thoughts of them to distract me from whale comments. I summon them up, the ones you can buy in that supermarket, dark, dense and chewy with chocolate, and I imagine what that will feel like when it hits my mouth in about five minutes from now.

"Savvy!"

I'm so lost in brownie fervour I walk into him, managing to step on a dog's paw at the same time. The little fella yelps loudly and I mutter, sorry sorry sorry.

When I straighten up, I find myself face to face with Mr A, and I don't know if I'm delighted or horrified. He smiles, the corners of his mouth turning up and his eyes creasing. Dark eyes meet mine and I search them, looking for...what? Kindness, I decide, that first and then friendship.

"This is Daisy," he says, pointing at the dog who seems to have forgiven me. Her wail wags like mad as I stop to stroke her. She's a chocolate lab, her hair and eyes the same colour as Mr A's. Maybe it's true what they say about owners looking like their pets or is it the other way around.

I stare at him, trying not to make it too obvious. Mr A doesn't bother with the conventional school teacher look when he's working, but away from there, he is different again. The tee shirt is topped by an open shirt and he's rolled the sleeves up to his elbows. I watch the muscles in his forearms move as Daisy tugs at her lead, sniffing madly and checking me out for any stray bits of food.

[Sorry Daisy. I ate it all.]

His hair isn't as neat as usual either. At school, he wears it combed back. Now the fringe hangs forward over one eye and my fingers itch to sweep it back.

"What are you doing here?" I burst out, then worry I sound as if I didn't want to bump into him.

"I live near here," he says, "and Daisy needs a lot of walking. And you?"

I mutter about a party and he rises his eyebrows, asking if it was rubbish seeing as it's so early. I shrug and battle not to let my eyes well up once more.

"Where are you heading?" he says, and I point in the opposite direction. If he's surprised that I now seem to be going backwards, he doesn't say it.

"Come on then," he says, and Daisy wags her tail some more.

We head back towards my house, the streets strangely quiet for a Saturday night. A dog makes things easy, I decide. You can ask a lot of questions and laugh when she does something cute. She looks behind her sometimes, as if she's checking we're not. We're not, what, Savvy? It strikes me that people might mistake us for a couple and I hug the thought to myself. Hope so, hope so.

"What was wrong with the party?" Mr A asks, and I say it was nothing, just that I was tired and not in the mood.

"Sure?" he says. "You know you can talk to me. When I bumped into you I thought you looked upset."

Mr A's voice isn't like the other teachers either. Is it to do with him being an actor—proper pronunciation, slow speech, words that roll over you, a smooth river of warmth. The 'upset' bit hangs there and I long to jump in. But who wants to tell someone those guys picked me out a whale, ugly and repellent?

And I don't want HIM to think it.

"Some guys said something nasty about me," I say. "I had to get out."

He nods but says nothing. The streets are disappearing under our feet too fast. In no time at all, we'll reach the bit where I have to say 'Good-bye, my home is around here'. That, or I walk the really long way home.

Daisy yanks at the lead. She's found an over-flowing bin, filled with old food wrappers and rubbish from the nearby takeaway. Mr A needs to say 'no' and 'come away' a few times before she finally gives in and turns to us, ears dropping and mouth down-turned.

I start to giggle, and she comes up to me, butting her head against my knees to get me to stroke her. I bend over her and ruffle her ears, and she leans against my legs tail thumping on the ground.

"Daisy's the best judge of person in the world," Mr A says. "She cosies up to the best people. And I always believe Daisy when she gives someone her seal of approval."

I unbend slowly, blinking. When I meet his eyes, he holds them too. His expression is serious, but the eyes wide and open. London washes over me, the ever-present sirens in the distance, the squeal of tyres and the roar of the traffic.

Just me and him.

"Don't let a couple of silly boys bother you." It's a whisper, but loud and clear anyway. "I... always look forward to the times you're in my classroom."

Words, words, wonderful words. do you know the power of them, the ones that sweep through your head and get into your bloodstream, taking their light and energy everywhere? I allow myself to keep staring back at him and my mouth twists upwards into a smile. His mouth echoes it, and then Daisy breaks the spell, barking at us both.

He laughs at that, telling me I should go home, and he needs to get back too. I wonder, who to, at that, my glance taking in his left hand. No ring.

He shouts over his shoulder as he leaves.

"I walk Daisy here or in the park most nights about this time."

And I hurry off, my mind buzzing and my body glowing.