My stinging hand had barely had time to settle before the next red notice loomed.
Suddenly I found myself needing to blitz through emails, push aside administrative nonsense, and just generally do real work before this big, almost frightening distraction arrived. All the while, I thought of Hannah -- her weight on my lap, her quivering butt, the dark colours which swam on her cheeks -- and how she'd never imagined this fate would fall on her. And all at the hands of a girl who'd have been sat in the corner, back in the day, without a friend let alone a thought sent her way! Ha!
I found the time to do what little research I could on the two girls -- the first was an Emma Zhang, student ID 38292333, a second-year student pursuing an BA in Business Studies, born on June 29, her hometown listed as the rather condescendingly broad 'PR China.' No previous red notices. The second was Lily Razowski, student ID 35742440 (like you care), a third-year Drama student, born on March 18, from Jedburgh -- which I only learned, after a quick Google, was a tiny village in the Scottish Borders. She had a lot of previous red notices. For Emma, the justification from a Professor Hector, was that she'd lied to him about her need for an extension on coursework which had been due over the summer. Nadine, meanwhile, had explained away Lily's red notice with the unnervingly vague "misbehaviour." Emma was scheduled for 12.30, Lily for 3.45, and I knew I'd be watching the clock all damn day long.
So, there we had it. On my first day, which was meant to be so simple and tranquil, I'd be going back to my flat with three different girls having been draped over my lap. I was still shaking from Hannah -- and now I had to do it twice more. I desperately wished I could find out more information about the two, even going so far as to consider emailing their respective professors asking for pointers, but I stopped myself. I had to be as independent as possible -- this job had been created so they need not bother themselves with this stuff.
When 12.30 rolled around there came, unlike with Hannah, a polite and on-time knock.
"Come in," I said, still trying to keep my voice under control, but there was no answer. "Come in?" Again, no answer. I stood and went to the door; with a trembling hand, I took the handle and opened it myself. The girl on the other end, who could only have been Emma Zhang, watched me, almost curiously. She was short and curvy, with a full face and skin like porcelain, smatterings of acne on her cheeks, in a black dress dotted by red flowers which came down to her knees, her legs below that almost black with thick tights, and big brown eyes like saucers. Her straightened hair was darkest black and gathered around her shoulders, from which hung a tote bag overloaded with coloured plastic folders.
"Good morning, miss," she said, her voice heavily accented, tripping on the first syllable of 'miss,' and I thought it'd be needlessly cruel to point out it was the afternoon.
"Emma?" I asked, and she nodded, almost smiling. "Okay, well, uh, come on in," I said, stumbling on my own words too, stepping aside so she could come past me. She came in slowly, timidly, like a deer, and stood there, the two of us almost hemmed in by the tiny office, looking around. She seemed almost perplexed.
"You won't tell my parents, right?" she asked.
"About what?"
"About this."
"Oh, no, I won't," I assured her, and she nodded, watching me. I had expected some kind of protest, as I'd gotten from Hannah, but none seemed to be forthcoming. Guilt from the last session still radiated in me, growing stronger the more I dwelled, and I half-wondered if Emma really knew what she was in for. "It says you lied to your professor?" What was I doing? I felt like, this time, I was the one delaying things. Why?
"It's not true," Emma said with confidence, shaking her head, pushing black hair from her face as strands swayed over her eyes. "I just sent the wrong paperwork, that's all. Not my fault."
"Well, how come you've got a red notice, then?" I asked, and Emma gave me an unsure look. I was definitely dawdling. Nadine would never do this -- she'd be straight to business and she'd expect the same of me. "It's your second mark, right? You need two to get a red notice."
"Well, yeah," replied Emma, fidgeting with her feet, "I just need extensions sometimes."
"So you've done this before."
"Yes, miss," she said, quietly, looking at me with those big, brown eyes, so big I need only lean in a little closer and I'd see my reflection. She'd probably get the wrong idea, if I did. "Who will be punishing me, miss?"
"Oh, that's me," I said blankly, and Emma stared at me.
"Oh." I could tell she was making an effort not to look me up and down. "You don't look like..."
"Like what?" She shook her head.
"Nothing, miss." I knew what she wanted to say -- she wasn't wrong. I didn't feel much like it, either. "So... how do we do this?"
"Well..." I remembered Hannah. "Why don't you tell me how you think it works?" That, I realised, was going to become my go-to. The sense that built-up experience would, slowly, edge me towards improvement heartened me a little, but it did nothing for my sweating palms or pounding chest, a feeling which was building up towards my throat. Emma wet her lips, looking around the little room.
"Um... I dunno."
"You don't know?" She shook her head and worry seeped into me. "But you had to agree to this stuff to be at the academy, right? You must have seen it."
"Oh, my parents did all the application stuff," said Emma, and my stomach fell entirely out of my body.
"Oh." She nodded and I realised, with a breaking heart, that I'd have to explain it to her. But was my heart breaking for her -- or for myself? "If you get a red notice, it means, like..." I wanted to swallow -- but that would make my nerves a bit too obvious. Just ride it out. "...corporal punishment."
"Yes, miss."
"And you know what that is."
"Yes -- like... you hit my hand with a ruler or something, right?"
