The 8th

“What? No. No it’s not. It’s because I am friends with a homosexual and I dared stick up for him. You saw what happened with the video. You saw that. The trouble I got into…It’s going to carry on. God only knows what they’ll do next. I don’t want to go back…”

“You have to go back! I’m sure they’ll soon get bored and move onto someone else.”

“It’s different to the way it was when you were at school, mum…You know, when the world was in black and white and you didn’t lock your front door at night…”

“Well you’re going back tomorrow. If you want I can go in with you.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. I didn’t mean to. “Thanks but I’m pretty sure that won’t help!”

“Well just stand up to them then! Now promise me you won’t bunk off again.” I didn’t say anything. “Promise me.”

“Fine. I promise. Whatever.” I pushed past her to head up the stairs to my room. I knew it was pointless telling her about what was happening at school but figured there was nothing to lose. Nothing to lose, at least, other than my patience. Once upstairs, and in my bedroom, I closed the door for some privacy. I don’t know how David does it. He’s been dealing with this for months now, I’ve only had it for a couple of weeks and it’s getting to me. Perhaps it’s because I am tired; tired of moving around from school to school…Home to home…Tired of the pressures of playing catch up with school work…Tired of having to meet new people and try and make new friends…Trying to pretend that everything is okay, at home, when really…I’ve had enough of my mum’s constant smothering and the fact my old man is never there — always working for the Ministry of Defense…I’m even tired of not knowing, exactly, what he does for a living which causes us to move around so much. I’m just tired. I’ve had enough. And…I can’t believe the school phoned home on my first missing afternoon. So much for escaping from time to time, to get some peace and quiet. I can’t have them call home all the time. It’ll only cause issues at home too. Then there’ll be no escape.

The door opened and mum came in, “Your friend David is downstairs. Is he okay? His face looks terrible…”

“What?” I jumped off the bed, where I had slumped, and hurried downstairs. David was standing at the foot of the stairs with his face all battered and bruised. “What happened?” I asked.

“I’ve had enough!” he said before I had even finished my sentence. “I’ve fucking had enough of it all…” David was getting more upset. It looked as though the only reason he wasn’t already crying was because he was so angry. “All of them…I’ve had it…I’m not going back…That’s it…”

“What happened?” I asked again. “Jesus Christ, David…Just tell me!”

“Piers…His friends…They happened. Outside my house, man. Outside my house.”

“What about your parents? They didn’t see what happened?”

“They’re not home. They never get home until later in the evening. They fucking waited for me outside my house.”

Mum appeared behind me, “Are you okay?” she asked David.

“No, of course he’s not okay. Look at him!” I said. “This is what it’s like at school. Those bullies…The ones you said would leave us alone…This is what they do…” I felt myself getting as angry as David. “Come on,” I said to him, “you can get yourself cleaned up in the bathroom.” I led the way for him whilst mum just watched, a look on her face which suggested she still didn’t get it. I couldn’t help but wonder what it would take for her to understand.

10

“You okay now?” I asked David. We were standing outside his front door having been given a lift by mum. She waited in the car whilst David and I chatted.

“I’m fine,” he said. I didn’t believe him. I was worried about him. He didn’t really seem as though he was there; the lights were on but he wasn’t home.

I looked towards the living room window. The lights were on so I guess one, or both, of his parents were home now. “Are you going to tell them what happened?”

“Don’t think I can hide it…” His face did look a mess. “It won’t make a difference, though. They’ll still make me go back tomorrow.”

“They don’t care?”

“Dad said once that it was deserved.”

“What? How?”

“Because…”

“You’re gay?” I asked. David didn’t say anything but I guessed that’s why his dad felt as though he deserved a beating from time to time. There was a slight pause. “You going to be okay?”

He shrugged, “What’s the alternative?”

“It’ll get better,” I said, not that I believed my own words. It has to get better. We don’t actually deserve any of what we are being subjected to. David didn’t react to what I said. “Well,” I continued, “I best get back…I’ll see you tomorrow. You never know, Piers and his friends might not show up again…Could be scared you’ll get the teachers involved and they’ll be suspended.”