The 8th

“Hi,” I said. Unsurprisingly no one answered. I turned back to the door hoping to see David’s once friendly face. He wasn’t there. Well…By myself then. “Okay then…” I muttered, more or less to myself, as I walked over to one of the spare seats at the front of the classroom. I always prefer sitting at the front of the class. I learned long ago that the teacher picks on you more if you choose to sit towards the back of the room as they think you’re not paying any attention to what they’re trying to teach you. I’m sure this teacher will be no different.

I started to root around in my rucksack. I wasn’t looking for anything in particular; simply trying to distract myself from the whisperings coming from behind me. Little voices enquiring who I was and what I was doing here…One voice explaining how bent I looked. A friendly bunch then. In times like these, as sadly it’s not the first time I’ve experienced this, I just have to keep telling myself that everything is going to be okay and they just need the chance to get to know me a little better. Day one is always awkward. By day two — you’re yesterday’s news. Just need to make it through to tomorrow.

“Faggot!” shouted a voice from behind me. I turned away from my rucksack and looked in the direction of the voice. One thing to whisper behind my back, it’s another thing altogether to start name calling me…The insult came from a lad in the back of the class. Of course it was the back. A scruffy, stocky lad with messy blonde hair. He wasn’t looking at me, though. Was the insult even meant for me? I followed his gaze to where David was stood in the doorway of the classroom. David looked anxious. Is this why he didn’t want to come in with me? Worried the lads would pick on me because I was with him? Makes sense. I did think it was weird how he went from being so friendly to so cold. “I was starting to think you weren’t coming in today,” said the boy at the back of the class.

“Just took him longer to wank off Mr Fitzpatrick this morning…” said a lad to the left of the one who started the insults. Laughter rippled through the classroom from most of the students. David didn’t laugh. He simply walked over to an empty chair behind a pretty girl who was also laughing at him.

“Fuck,” said the first lad, “why are you such a fucking faggot? Your mum and dad must be gutted to have you as a son. Oh wait, your mum’s dead isn’t she? Surprised I forgot that. After all, it was only last night I was skull fucking her corpse…Still…Your dad isn’t dead. Probably just wishes he was. I reckon he’s sat at home now wondering why his son is such a bender…”

“Maybe he’s using you as his role model,” I said. I couldn’t help but speak up. David was visibly upset and this was obviously a daily occurrence. No sooner had the words escaped my mouth then the class fell silent. The lad looked at me; a look of hatred in his blue eyes.

“Fuck you say?”

“Well I too was wondering how he’s as gay as he is…The way he so expertly sucks cocks…The only way I can see someone his age, being so great at swallowing spunk, is if he had a role model. I look around here and the only possibility is you and your bum-chum friends.”

“Who the fuck are you anyway?”

“You don’t recognise me? I’m the one who was fucking your mother late last night…Could have sworn I saw you hiding in the cupboard tugging yourself off at the sight of my fine ass and your mum’s pert breasts.”

The lad stood up and started to walk over to me. I think it’s fair to say we’re never likely to be friends even though most of the other classmates were finding me hysterical.

“Take your seats!” shouted a female voice from the front of the classroom. I looked around and saw a pretty female teacher. I think it’s fair to say she couldn’t have timed that better if she had tried.

I turned my back on the lad. He wasn’t going to try anything with the teacher there. Who knows, maybe he’ll have a chance to calm down during this lesson? Don’t really care either way. Bullies like him…They’re all talk. I’ve met his kind before. I shot David a quick look and smiled at him. He wasn’t smiling back. He almost looked apologetic.

I recalled seeing that expression on David’s face the first day when I had stood up for him. He looked sorry for thinking he had got me involved in his troubles. I want to tell him this isn’t his fault. I want to tell him that they had brought it upon themselves. I want to tell him but I don’t. I turned back to the rest of the class. They all look worried. No doubt they’re wishing I had called their names out too. Give them a way out. Looking around at the remaining classmates, I didn’t realise there were so many who had wronged me. I can’t help but think it would have been better picking a double lesson to do this. Where to start? Where to start? Given the fact I might not get to everyone…Only one place to start really…