Prologue

Hi,

I'm Philippa Taylor. I am about to tell you a story that changed my life - for good and bad. It taught me lessons of love and heartache, and when not to do something that is so completely wrong, but feels so unbelievably right. Now stay with me because it's a long story but you'll learn a thing or two from it. I am about to tell you the story of Mr Micheal Carter.

I've always lived in a small neighbourhood, in a small house with my Mum, nothing ever really goes on, and if it does everyone wants to know about it. I went to a small school and soon realised how much I loved it, the atmosphere, the people, the routine. I've always been a student at heart.

I started at my high school 10 years ago, I was a shy girl but by no means quiet. As soon as I was comfortable with you, I didn't shut up. I started with a group of about 20 friends, all from my previous school. But as years went on, my group got smaller and smaller and smaller, until it was just me and my two best friends - Nancy and Billie. These girls got me through everything, and as long as i had them i knew i would be okay. I told them everything - even the weirdest secrets - and they did the same. They were there for me through everything. Don't get me wrong, I was still friends with my old friends, but I only really spoke to them if I bumped into them in the school corridor or in a lesson.

I was always in the top classes, nerds sat all round, and I was completely winging it - I probably looked more lost than anything. But i stuck with it and i was a good student, i never spoke back to teachers and mostly kept my head down. My parents evening were always great, but i set my standards too high and too early. Despite this, my parents never pressured me to study, my Dad lived down the road with my brother and I lived with my Mum - she was my best friend however cringe that sounds, I literally told her everything.

My brother Joe was the absolute opposite - the worst student imaginable. Detentions every night, throwing pens and paper round the classroom, failing all his classes and falling asleep in the majority of them. But for his last year of school, he had Mr Carter. A maths teacher, the best maths teacher. He would not let you leave with a fail, he stuck with you and made sure you passed, whether that be from extra sessions, ringing your parents or just down right screaming the knowledge into your brain, he did it. And he did it good. I've probably made Mr Carter sound like the devil, but he was not even close. Not only did he care like no other teacher, he cared about the student as well as their grades, he was sarcastic but funny, he had a way of making the most boring lessons the best laugh you've had that week. He had a laugh with everyone, but could be strict when he needed to. He was passionate about what he did and never failed to put a smile on your face.

I'd heard lots about Mr Carter from my brother, from the endless phone calls to my mother about Joe's behaviour and I'd even met him at a parents evening before I started at the school. I could tell just by looking at him that I would like him, he was mysterious. So when I found out on my first day of year 10 that I had him as my maths teacher, I was ecstatic. Never had i'd been so happy to see a teacher's name on my timetable.