Bad Education – Chapter I

Coal fucking Hill.

Malcolm gave a curt sniff and untucked his blackberry from the pile of folders under his arm, as his thumb fell into muscle memory and tapped away at the keys. He could hear the Prime Minister's voice waft through the pack of press huddled in the schoolyard as he trumped up his policy to the cameras. Malcolm let out a sigh: three weeks till the election and yet here they were playing happy hand holding hour with cerebrally challenged secretaries of Education and DoSAC. That's what happens when one insists on a 'positive campaign'. But at least it would provide enough light for him to work on slitting people's throats in the shadows.

"53!" A hushed squeaky voice appeared beside him, which he didn't have to look up from his phone to immediately identify as belonging to DoSAC scrotum buffer Ollie Reeder. "Two party preferred at 50-fucking-3 precent! We're fucking Rocky Balboa!"

"Oi." Malcolm shot up from his phone with a stern glare. "Watch your language, there's kids around."

Ollie promptly shut his mouth in surprise then stood awkwardly beside him as they both watched the crowd of press and school children as now the Secretary for Education took to the podium and quickly fell in line with kissing the PM's arse.

"Check out Nicola." Ollie interrupted again with a nod to where Nicola Murray stood in front of a gaggle of teachers and parents that had been wrangled for background fillers, enthusiastically nodding to points made by the Secretary of Education. "She looks like some sad old neglected pound dog just gagging for a scrap of attention. P…please Mr PM!" Ollie's face scrunched up as he mocked with a high-pitched voice. "Just one little pat? I've been ever so good!"

Malcolm raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "I'm sorry, are you trying to have some friendly tête-à-tête with me?"

"I was just… commentating." Ollie shrunk.

Malcolm leant in to him with a hushed voice. "Yeah well how about you tête-à-take that commentary, write it down in your little fairy dust diary and shove it so far up your glory hole it reaches your sad excuse of a brain, which it should never have left in the first place? I'm trying to watch. Make sure your boss doesn't do anything to muck up that 53% your wee peen was getting a rise out of five seconds ago."

"You do know we're the ones who actually organised this press conference to begin with." Ollie countered petulantly.

"Well excuse me for giving your homoeopathically weak tea of a Secretary a shot of credibility by bringing the real stars to shine a little light on her, here in whatever ASBO breeding ground you've managed to uncover. Who even decided hold it here anyway?"

"Um… Nicola." Ollie quickly avoided. "Something about forming diamonds."

"Great." Malcolm growled. "Go and get the cars ready then, so I can shut this down and herd her away before she starts stuttering out ten pages of special-ed level metaphors."

Ollie opened his mouth in objection, but Malcolm gave an aggressive flick of his hand so quickly shut it and hurried away through the schoolyard. Malcolm checked his watch with a glower then looked back up to the podium when Nicola Murray started to edge awkwardly towards the mic and took her place under the media spot-light.

His face froze.

"Oh f…flay me."

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Clara tried desperately to hold back a roll of her eyes as she stood behind the row of politicians spouting bullshit about education reform. It'll be a lark, Danny tried to convince her when they were asked by some advisor to stand in the background for the cameras, when else are you going to be two feet away from the PM?

She should really stop listening to Danny. He was a sweet guy, who had a cute little crush on her, but the way he was standing next to her in regimental at-ease just made her even more agitated. She didn't want to be used as some set dressing of support for a policy she despised, but there she was anyway. All that was left for her to do is keep a blank face and pray the conference ended quickly. Very quickly.

The schoolyard filled with the snap of photographs as one politician stopped speaking and let the last one finally have a go.

"H…hello." Clara winced as the woman's voice punched from the speakers while she tried to figure out the correct distance to the microphone. "Yes… hi. Hello. Um. I would like to join my esteemed colleague and, of course, our most esteemed Prime Minister to say thank you. Thank you to Coal Hill for having us here and for showing you out there, the press and the public, just…um… what wonderful work is happening here in this school… and in our government – where you can truly see the fantastic results. Here. In this school."

Clara bit down a grown of utter frustration. The woman obviously had no clue what she was talking about she almost felt like covering her eyes in second hand embarrassment.

"Since the implementation of DoSAC's Stronger Citizenship Awareness in Adolescents, or SCAA as some of the cool kids like to call it…" Clara grimaced but the minister continued on anyway. "And then from our policy's folding in with our party's revolutionary education reform of standardization and oversight, schools just like this one here have flourished and stepped up to the challenge to deserve real budgetary rewards which um… which is why Coal Hill Secondary School truly is an example of all the good our government has done throughout the schools of Britain. Because everyone knows with a bit of pressure and time, a boring lump of coal will turn into a diamond."

The audience was silent.

"I mean um… that's not to say that this school was 'boring', it's clearly fantastic, but, you know, nothing is truly perfect and so you've just got to keep on striving – don't you? So with more pressure from this government we know we can get results. I mean to say, not stifling pressure… but… um… just the right amount. Like the bears. I mean the porridge. The- um… but don't ask me for proof of results, you only have to look around you…" The minister turned to wave a hand before the row of teachers. "… to talk to the people on the ground, the real, hard working implementers, to see the change." Suddenly the minister's eyes fixed on to Clara's. "Have you not noticed the change?"

The world shifted to half speed as Clara could feel the eyes and lenses of the crowd of press slowly turned towards her. She'd laid her out as a sacrifice, the slimy politician.

"I have." Clara let out stiffly; trying to hold back the torrent she had felt rise up inside her throughout all the speeches. She had to keep it down. She would loose all control if it got out. But when the minister gave a small smile and turned back to the podium she knew it was too late. They weren't getting out that easily. "It's changed for the worse."

The woman whipped back round and opened her mouth cover her but Clara was too fast. "Ever since the new policy roll out of tests, standardized curriculum and even more tests, this school's 'calculable figures' may have risen but the quality of actual education sure hasn't." The minister tried again to interrupt but she was too far in now to stop. "You like statistics so much – here's a nice one for you: In the last two years drop out rates have increased by 10%. That's smart, promising children giving up on learning because they don't fit some pre-conceived box by a government who knows nothing about who they are or where they're even from. You say all you have to do is look around this school to see the results – well it's obvious you and the Prime Minister haven't given the faintest glance, otherwise you'd see it's undermining the future of so many children. This isn't education: it's a checklist. An- "

"I'm sorry the Prime Minister is needed back at Number 10." A deep Scottish voice suddenly called from the mess of cameras, snapping her back to reality.

What had she done?

The press ignored the call to cease and began shouting questions at Clara like arrows, hemming her in tighter to the line teachers. She looked up to see the ministers being nudged away by a tall thin man who tried to shoo away the reporters when he turned his head and shot her a look like a shard of ice. Her breath caught under his intense gaze, but in and instant the tall grey haired man had turn and gone, leaving her alone as prey to the encroaching press.

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NB: Why hello there! I see you've stumbled on this fic. That's nice! Have you also been pulled in head first against your will to the dark twisted void of Malcolm x Clara shipping? BECAUSE I SURE HAVE

Yes these two idiots who in no way should be put together have somehow taken hostage of my brain and I can't get it back. Especially now when I'm imagining the both of them dressed up like Hans Gruber and attempting really bad Alan Rickman impersonations. Yippi Ki-Get your stupid stubborn hands off my heart.

…. nup. Not working. Seems I'm stuck with this ship.

So I guess the only logical thing to do is keep writing this story then? I mean, if you like it, that is. This chapter is a bit expositiony prologue, and was tres weird not letting Malcolm say fuck – but ooo lordie is that going to change in the next chapter. We'll also get to some interesting meetings. And when I say meetings I mean butting of heads. Wonderful pretty heads.

So yeah – if you like it and want more or just need a scream about these two idiots please leave a review! They feed this worthless carcass of a brain and make things better and faster. But thanks again for reading!