Chapter 2: Chapter 2
Naturally, the air conditioning was on the blink again, so he cranked down the window, peeled out of theshady spot, and set off into the sun.
Mike was born and bred in Sheffield. He’d grown up in the shadows of the old factories, and listening to his granddad refusing to drink Thatcher’s anymore because of the Prime Minister by the same name. He’d beaten his accent into shape when he went to Edinburgh to study, only to get it back the minute he’d walked in through the doors at his first teaching placement back in his home city. And he could barely pay attention as he swung his boat of a car through the winding, hilly roads and nonsensical junctions, past the sea of folks who couldn’t operate an indicator if their lives depended on it, and out the other side into the coolness of trees, the shade of narrow streets, and sounds of birds and bees beginning to cry above the city sounds.
There, nestled the house.
It was just a little house. A tiny kitchen. A hall not four feet across. The front door could hit the bottom of the stairs if it was opened too quickly. Mike had to perform on average—he’d counted—thirteen micro-manoeuvres to park the car outside. All the windows needed replacing, and there was an owl that lived in next door’s tree that liked to crap on his bonnet every night. It was constantly too cold, and it was only a two-bedroomed house by virtue of the attic room. To say it had a back garden was being exceptionally generous to the three paving slabs behind their kitchen window.
But it was their kitchen window.
The moment he shuffled his bulk into the coolness of home, Mike could see a pair of running shorts draped over a radiator. There was a cactus in a pink pot on the living room windowsill that gave a whole new meaning to the word ugly. Molly, their fat old tortoiseshell inherited from next door, was sunbathing on the kitchen tiles. A brightly patterned quilt was living on the back of the sofa, and a pair of trainers about five sizes too small for Mike had been abandoned, one on the doormat and one halfway up the stairs.
Home.
Their home.
They’d only bought it last year. It was their first house. They’d been saving for seven years, and nowthey finally had it. Theirs. It was only the first step on the housing ladder—Mike certainly wasn’t putting up with that damned bathroom for the rest of his days—but the shine of the first home hadn’t worn off yet.
Nobody was in, despite the shoes. Mike puttered about amiably. He showered, changed into some long shorts and a T-shirt, and rustled up his favourite pair of offensively bright trainers, mostly because it would earn him a good groan in the pub later. He sorted through the post—bills, bills, a lost postcard from Fuerteventura for someone called Jade, more bills—and then settled down on the sofa to sort through his briefcase.
Emma’s envelope was still sitting on top, and Mike hesitated.
He wasn’t a romantic. He’d gone into teaching because it was steady work, and a steady wage. A good wage, too, given Mike’s mam was a dinner lady, his dad had driven lorries, and his stepdad was a binman. A teacher’s five-figure salary was like riches in Mike’s world. It hadn’t been about educating young minds, or investing in the future, or any of that. It had been about his biology degreesand the government offering a load of tax-free cash for him to do a teacher training course.
But Mike couldn’t lie. Kids like Emma made it different.
He opened the envelope. It was just a card. A glittery pink card, with a thank you written in party balloons across the front. And inside, a simple message. Nothing fancy. Just a few words…and yet they brought a lump to Mike’s throat anyway.
Dr Parry. Thanks for everything. You made me brave enough to be me. Love Emma.
Mike swallowed thickly, and put the card up on the window next to the ugly cactus.
Emma wasn’t a bright girl. She wasn’t interested in science, and it showed in her work. She’d always just been one of the quiet ones at the back of the class—no hassle, no trouble, but no real promise either. Then Mike had given them a lesson featuring clownfish, who changed sex depending on their environment, and Emma had come to him afterwards and asked if people could change sex. When Mike had said that sex wasn’t as easy as two Xs made a girl and an X and a Y made a boy, Emma had burst into tears and told him she was scared there was something wrong with her.
Gifts
-- Gift
received Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone