Introduction to Jed Hillbright

Here’s a brief early excerpt from my latest WIP. Hope you enjoy.

Jed stood nervously outside the head’s office. He hadn’t a clue what he was going to say. He just knew he had to say something. Looking furtively up and down the corridor, he was relieved to see there was no one about. He didn’t want to be seen kowtowing to the head. The gap at the bottom of the head’s door offered a faint strip of light, illuminating the dust at Jed’s feet. He raised his hand to knock, withdrew it, took a deep breath then rapped on the door.

“Enter.” The principal’s voice, booming and sonorous.

Jed opened the door, entered with tentative steps, closed the door, and took the proffered chair as the principal’s eyebrows raised as high as they could go.

“Yes, Jed,” the head said.

He got straight to the point. “It’s Penny Summers,” Jed responded somewhat meekly. “She’s getting a hundred percent in my daily tests.”

The head beamed, a look he used as often as he could, turning his plump, round face into a fair representation of a full moon. “Is she now?” He put his head on one side, portraying the start of a double chin. “That’s good, isn’t it?”

“It’s not just good, it’s unheard of. She even knows stuff I’ve not taught in class.”

The head’s beam grew broader. “She studies at home. She loves Mandarin. So what?”

“Everyone else struggles to get twenty percent,” Jed pointed out. “She’s a prodigy.” There. He had said it. But how would the principal react?

“What are you getting at, Jed?” The head’s beam had gone, replaced by a look of intense suspicion. “Are you saying she doesn’t belong?”

Jed thought about that for a moment. Was that what he was saying? “I think so,” he replied cautiously. “She needs to move up.”

“Up to where?” The heads tone was now accusatory. Jed suddenly realised he was on shaky ground. Did it sound like he was implying that Falls College could not cope with bright pupils? He wriggled in his seat. “I can’t teach Penny and the others at the same time,” he blurted. “It would hold her back.”

“Are you asking for a raise, so you can teach her one on one?”

Jed blanched. That was the last thing on his mind. He shook his head vigorously. “Not at all, head. I just think she should receive specialist training.”

“Outside these walls?”

Jed scratched the bridge of his nose. “I suppose so.”

“Have you talked to her parents?”

“No. Of course not. I thought I’d discuss it with you first.”

The head nodded. “Anywhere in mind?”

“No, but there is the military academy. That’s not far away. It’s on a monorail route.”

“Military! At her age?”

Jed shrugged. “Fourteen is fine. They take them at that age.”

“Them?”

Jed shrugged again. “Outstanding students.”

“Prodigies.”

Jed nodded. He didn’t want to take this any further now. The head was right. They would have to speak to Penny’s parents. Take it from there. Though heaven knows what he would do if they objected to Penny leaving the college.

“Right, Jed,” the head said. “Please arrange a meeting with Penny’s family, here at the college, and we’ll see how we go. Talk to my secretary on timing.”

Jed stood. He was still fearful of Penny’s parents turning the suggestion down. Then what would he do? He was in great danger of being usurped by a gawky teenager in class. Maybe private tuition wasn’t a bad suggestion. Not that he would get any extra money for that.  “Yes, head,” he said as he quietly left the room.

That night at home, Jed turned on the television at the usual time. He rarely swore, but this time he did. That bloody reporter was there again. Another UAP sighting was being broadcast, and this time there was an air of incredulous belief in the newscaster’s voice.

“Believe it or not, good people, our unidentified anomalous phenomenon has appeared again. I’m beginning to think that we are being targeted by some kind of alien activity. This is three nights running now.”

This time there were six people gathered around the reporter, all of them looking extremely scared. Jed peered at the screen through slitted eyes, trying to gauge any sign of prevarication in their mannerisms. Damn it all. One of them was a police officer, somebody trained to observe accurately.

“It was saucer-shaped,” the policeman was saying, “with constantly changing flashing lights. As silent as a mouse. Much too big for a drone, about the size of two houses. There were no propulsion units; no wings, no jets, fans or propellers. By rights it should have fallen from the sky.”

“And it shot straight up,” a woman in her thirties added. “Like greased lightning.”

The reporter’s face filled the screen. “Earlier today we tried to get a comment from the government, home affairs and defense, but so far there is no response.” He peered accusingly at the camera. “Something is going on and we have the right to know.” He then glanced up at the sky. “Next time there will probably be eight witnesses. How many does it take for us to be told the truth?”

“We want the truth,” another witness barked. “And we want it now.”

“I have no doubt,” the reporter said, “that tomorrow we will be back again. Until then, Jed, stay tuned.”

Jed voiced the contraption off and sat back in the half-light. Then he turned it back on again. Had that reporter just mentioned his name, or was it his imagination? Whatever had been said, the broadcast was finished, replaced by a movie from what must have been a century ago. Jed blinked. It must have been his imagination—or his hearing. A light flashed in his head. Perhaps the television had picked his name up from AI, perhaps it thought it was just being friendly. He stared at the set suspiciously. Things were getting bad if humans had to rely on AI for a decent conversation, in Mandarin or otherwise.

He went to the refrigerator to get a beer. He had other things to think about. Tomorrow he would be talking to Penny Summers’ family. And that made him nervous. Still, he had to think of Penny’s future. That, after all, was his role as a teacher.