The 8th

I couldn’t help but think how great this was, as Mrs Price pulled her skirt back up and took her seat amongst my fellow classmates. Her face is still red and the tears, in her eyes, are nothing more than an added bonus. I have a feeling, if she survives this, she won’t be so keen to belittle any of her students again. Hell, she might even quit. Never teach again. No loss to the education system, that’s for sure.

Rebecca was still crying in her seat too. Two scarred, hopefully for life, and one battered. I’m just disappointed the bruises will heal.

“Well, Piers, you ready yet?” I hope he tells me to ‘fuck off’ or something similar from his lacking intelligence; give me another reason to smash him in the face. Normally I’m against violence. I don’t think it solves anything. That’s partly why I never fought back on the occasions they jumped me. I mean…Ignoring how big he is in comparison to my skinny frame anyway. Even if I had wanted to fight back, I wouldn’t have gotten very far. I’d have covered even less metaphorical distance on the times his friends were helping to give me a hiding. I never understood why he had them help — it’s not as though he needed a hand.

Piers tipped his head back so it was facing me. His nose was still bleeding. How satisfying. I’m loving this. It’s nearly making me as hard as the sight of Mrs Price’s cunt and the feeling of Rebecca’s tongue. With his hand away from his face, he raised his middle finger.

Oh, Happy Days…A sadistic smile spread across my mouth. Like I said, normally I’m against violence but, I won’t lie, it’s slowly starting to grow on me.

6

“Are you going to want us to pick you up?” asked my mum. The problem with my mum is that she wasn’t trying to be helpful. She was trying to be nosy. She just wanted to get a glimpse of my new friends. No doubt she wanted to thank them for taking me under their wings as I found my way around a new school. She was always the same. It was embarrassing. The friends I did make often asked whether my mum would be home before agreeing to come around for a night of gaming on the console. They said she freaked them out a little. I couldn’t blame them. Her only son, she had a habit of treating me as though I was still a baby. Definitely embarrassing. When she first saw the bruises Piers and his friends inflicted…She wanted to frog march me back to school and demand the Headmaster expelled everyone immediately. I tried telling her it wasn’t necessary. I tried telling her it would just make things worse for me but…You know how parents can be especially when they have a bee in their bonnet about something.

“I’m fine,” I muttered as I pulled a clean, black shirt from my wardrobe.

“Don’t you have anything brighter you can wear?” she asked. “You’re always dressing in black…Colour suits you so well…”

“I want black. Black is cool,” I said. I also perceived it was a power colour too. Mum once said she thought I was a Goth. I couldn’t help but laugh. I’m hardly a Goth. It’s not like I wear make-up and dress head to foot in black and go around listening to heavy-metal whilst cutting myself…Mind you, I don’t really know any Goths…Maybe they don’t do that? Maybe it’s just bad movies portraying them in a negative light.

“Well it’s nice to see you settling so quickly,” she continued. “Especially after what happened at the start of the week…Do you at least want a lift?”

“It’s fine, mum, really. I can make my own way.”

“Well, if you’re sure…”

I feel sorry for mum really. I know why she is so keen to be part of my life. It’s because she doesn’t really have her own life. She gets moved around just as much as me, because of dad. At least I have the chance to meet new friends and different people by going to school. She doesn’t have to work. In fact, dad said he didn’t want her to. He wanted her to be at home…Keep the house up together and meals on the table whilst he went out and provided. Old fashioned views, I guess. It did mean that mum didn’t get to socialize with people her own age, especially as she lacked the confidence to join local groups that would have opened the door to meeting new, like-minded people. She just stayed in the house and went a little more stir-crazy each day.

“Thank you, mum. Really. But I’m sure.”

She gave me a smile and said, “Well, I’ll leave you to get ready then…” and, with that, she left the room.

I do love her though.

* * * * *

My heart was beating fast and hard as I pressed the doorbell button to Rebecca’s house. I know this is all for the best; a fresh start. A chance to turn the hatred Piers and the others feel for me into something more positive. Doesn’t make me any less nervous though. Not a good thing, being nervous. I have a bad habit of being ultra-sarcastic, without meaning to be, or extremely quiet. Neither are traits which make me any more endearing. I wish David had come with me. At least there’d have been someone here who definitely liked me.