SAFE
The following chapters contains some strong language.
Copyright © Kate Hanney
One
The day of Chris’s party had been shit. I’d had a row at home, isolation at school, no bus fare and no fags. I should’ve known it was the wrong day to take a chance with the pregnancy thing. My luck was bang out.
I’d only gone to school in the first place to get the ‘Education Welfare Officer’ off my back. He’d been round to the house again, acting all serious and talking about legal action. At first, I was going to ignore him like usual, but my mom got the face on, and I thought the best way to keep them both happy was to just turn up every now and again. So the next morning, I went.
It was all OK until French. I hated French – oh I know everybody does – but I really couldn’t stand it. Our usual teacher wasn’t too bad with me though. She, like most of the others, sort of knew I wasn’t going to do much because I didn’t see the point.
I was never going to be a brain surgeon was I? And I really didn’t see what difference a couple of GCSEs were going to make to my life. She understood this, and she pretty much left me alone. But that Friday we had a cover teacher. I knew him a bit, he’d been in some of our lessons before; but he didn’t know me, not well enough to realise when to back off anyway.
It started from the minute I walked through the door. It was the second lesson of the day, and we didn’t have a break between that and the first. So it was always a bit difficult: leaving lesson one, trying to get twos on a fag, and then not being late for the next lesson. Well I was a bit late that day, only a couple of minutes, but it was enough to wind him up.
‘What’s your name?’ he snapped.
I told him, and he made the ‘Ah’ sound. The ‘Ah’ meant he recognised my name; he knew now that I was one of those lads who hardly ever attended, and when I did, I always managed to get my name on the detention list. He shook his head and sighed; the look on his face was so dirty that he’d have needed bleach to get it off.
‘Well, what do you think you’re playing at, turning up at this time?’
He was being right mardy, and he didn’t give me chance to answer the first question before he went babbling on with the next.
‘Who do you think you are, blah, blah, blah…disturbing the lesson, blah, blah…you’ll make the time up at break, blah, blah, blah.’
OK, OK, I thought, staying calm. It’s only a couple of minutes, I can put up with that.
I tried hard to ignore him and made my way to an empty chair at the back.
The next thing it was my jacket. We’re not supposed to wear coats during the lessons, but it was freezing in that classroom and I only had a T-shirt on underneath. Sometimes I could get away with leaving it on. But not that day; Mr Supply Teacher was going to follow the rules to the letter.
‘Remove your coat as well,’ he shouted, before I’d even sat down.
‘OK, give me a chance,’ I said.
‘Don’t speak to me like that,’ he said. ‘Just do it!’
I knew he was being all cocky and going over the top, but I decided to let him. I preferred to keep quiet if I could, so I sat down and took my jacket off. The cold made me shiver.
He put some worksheets in front of me and walked away. They weren’t hard and I could probably have had a go at them. But I didn’t, because I hadn’t brought a pen.
Now let’s face it, I had all on getting myself up on time, putting on something that resembled school uniform, getting my little sister up, getting her to school, then getting me to school and finding out where I should be, without remembering to bring a pen as well. I knew I didn’t have one, I never did, but because he’d had a go at me twice in two minutes, I thought I’d wait and see what happened; sometimes cover teachers never even got up from sitting behind the desk.
I sat and looked out of the window for a bit. Some of the girls were on the field doing P.E. and it was quite entertaining. I knew a few of them well and the memories made me smile – but not for long though. Unfortunately, the muppet at the front must’ve felt like a walk round, and all at once, there he was, standing in front of me.
‘You’ve done absolutely nothing. You’ve been sitting there all this time and you haven’t written a single word.’
I looked at him.
‘What’s a matter with you lad, why haven’t done anything?’
‘I haven’t got a pen,’ I answered.
Now normally the teachers would tut and shake their heads a bit when this happened. But then, they’d just go and get me a pen and I’d make an effort to do some work. But this idiot, he decided he was going to make a big deal about it.
‘Oh he hasn’t got a pen,’ he shouted, all dramatic, waving his hands in the air.
‘Well, perhaps if you sit there long enough, one will fly in through the window and land straight in your hand.’
He looked around at the other kids, pleased with himself. Maybe he thought that he’d get a laugh, that they’d be impressed with his wit. But most of them weren’t even listening, and the ones who were didn’t have a clue what he was on about.
I just glared at him. I hated people being sarcastic anyway, but from a teacher, it really did my head in. I mean there was no need for it. Why couldn’t he just say “Well you should’ve asked for one earlier”? And then he would’ve been right, and I wouldn’t have argued. Why did he have to make it into an event? Why did he try to show me up and make me look stupid?
I shook my head.
‘You sad bastard.’
I sighed out my thoughts almost under my breath. And it was the almost that got me into trouble; a bit quieter and he wouldn’t have heard. But he did, and he threw a real strop.
‘What did you say?’
Oh God, here we go.
‘Nothing,’ I said. I didn’t feel like arguing.
‘Yes you did, I heard you. Now come on, if you’re big enough to say it in the first place then at least be brave enough to admit it.’
He was proper shouting now; acting all hard and pushing and pushing me, more and more. All the other kids had gone quiet and they were all looking at me; I could feel my stomach getting tight. I really hadn’t wanted any trouble, but he just wouldn’t leave it alone.
‘Well, I’m waiting. Or aren’t you so clever now?’
He obviously thought that because I was keeping quiet I was scared of him, and that must’ve made him feel good.
He came right up to my desk and leaned over, really near to my face.
‘Not so brave when you’ve got to say it out loud are you? Well you’re pathetic lad. Absolutely pathetic…aren’t you?’
As he shouted out his high and mighty opinions, I felt some of his spit land on my lips, and then I just couldn’t hold it in any longer. It was right what I’d said anyway, he’d just proved it, right there in front of all the other kids.
‘I said you’re a Sad Bastard.’
I didn’t shout, but I said it plenty loud enough and I looked straight at him as I spoke.
He stood bolt upright then with a shocked look on his face. That had thrown him. He really hadn’t expected that; he’d probably thought I was going to agree with him, or apologise or something. Because I hadn’t said anything for so long, he thought he’d won his little battle and made me look stupid and pathetic or whatever it was he was trying to do.
He didn’t know what to say now though, so he did what they always do in that situation – he pointed at the door and screamed, ‘Get out!’
And as he stood there with his arm stretched out, I could see that his hand was shaking.
I hesitated for a second. I could’ve had a real go at him then, like I would’ve done when I was younger. I could have told him about himself or threatened him or even thrown a few things. But I’d shaken him up alright and that was enough. And I knew I’d be going into isolation for what I’d done already. So although I was really wound up, I kept my mouth shut. I’d made my point and so I did what I was told. I stood up, got my jacket and walked out of the room.
Outside in the corridor, I threw myself back against the wall hard. I swore a few times, and thought about what I’d like to do to him.
But then I tried to calm myself down. I’d learned the benefit of doing that a long time ago. They liked to see that you could sort yourself out a bit, ‘Anger Management’ they called it. I closed my eyes for a second and took a few deep breaths. After a while, my heart started to beat slower.
One of the girls came out of the classroom with an orange piece of paper in her hand. This was a sort of form thing that the teachers filled in when somebody had kicked off and they wanted them dealing with. They wrote down what had happened and then they got a ‘good kid’ to take it to the office.
This ‘good kid’ was called Mel. I didn’t know her that well, but as she walked passed she looked at me. It was a strange look; one that I couldn’t quite work out. It wasn’t the ‘you low-down piece of crap’ look that I would’ve expected from her. It was a sort of smile, and it was enough to make my eyes follow her all the way down the corridor.
When she’d gone out of sight, I thought about what’d happened again and I almost went home – it wouldn’t have been the first time I’d walked out of school. But then I saw old Rogers coming towards me with the orange form in his hand. Mr Rogers was the deputy head, and to be honest, we’d always got on OK. The only run-ins we had were at times like this, when somebody else had wound me up and he had to deal with it.
‘Oh Danny, not again.’
These were his first words as he stopped and stood next to me. He looked quite mad.
‘It’s really not on! You can’t just go on saying these things. You know you should bring a pen, and if you don’t, you should ask to borrow one properly. You know that, don’t you?’
As well as looking mad, he seemed disappointed and I nearly felt a bit bad then. What he’d said so far was true, what could I say? I looked across the corridor and out of the window.
‘Yes sir,’ I said, and he carried on.
‘You can’t just start swearing and causing trouble like this. I’ve told you before.’
He paused for a minute, and then said, ‘There was no need for this to have happened was there?’
I didn’t answer.
‘Was there Danny?’
His voice had got louder and I turned my head back to look at him. I wanted to tell him then, I wanted to tell him how it’d all been his fault, Mr what-ever his name was – if he hadn’t tried to show me up and make me look thick in the first place, and then if he’d have just left me alone, I mean he’d kept asking me what I’d said hadn’t he? He’d pushed me into repeating it, going on and on and on.
But what was the point? It wouldn’t have done me any good anyway; they always stuck together in the end.
So I cut my losses, ‘No sir,’ I said quietly.
I thought he was going to tell me to apologise then, but he didn’t; maybe he could tell it wasn’t the best time. There was no way I would’ve said sorry then anyway, no chance. But he knew if he left me alone for a bit, I’d be more likely to do what he said.
‘Right; good,’ he nodded. ‘Now, come with me up to the PRU.’
I followed him all the way along the corridor and up the stairs.
Our isolation unit was foul. I mean I know it wasn’t supposed to be a holiday camp or anything, but it was the most depressing place in the world. When I first started at that school it was always called ‘Isolation’, but then a couple of years ago somebody decided it should be called a Pupil Referral Unit or ‘PRU.’ That sounded much more friendly didn’t it? Well it wasn’t. It was exactly the same as it always had been; sub-zero temperatures and boring as hell.
It was an old classroom that had been split up into what they called ‘bases,’ and when we got there, Rogers told me which one to sit in. As I flopped down, the teacher who ran it looked at me and nearly said something. Maybe she was going to tell me to take my coat off or something, I don’t know, because she quickly changed her mind and said nothing. She’d known me for a while and could tell that I was pissed off. She decided to leave me alone.
Rogers told me that I had to spend the rest of the day there, but if I behaved myself, I could go back into normal lessons on Monday.
‘But,’ he said seriously. ‘This is getting far too regular Danny. If it happens again, you’ll be looking at another exclusion.’
I frowned – didn’t he realise that an exclusion would suit me down to the ground? It would give me a real proper reason for not going to school.
He cottoned on to what I was thinking and he couldn’t help smiling.
‘Just try not to do it again Danny, eh; it’s better for everybody. OK?’
I nodded and he went.
Bastard supply teacher, I thought to myself, and I put my hood up, got my key out of my pocket and started carving into the desk.
TWO
The four and a half hours that I’d spent in isolation that day seemed more like four and a half weeks. It was sooo boring. And then on top of that, when I got let out at three o’clock, I realised I hadn’t got enough money for bus fare. There was a loan system set up at our school for this sort of thing, but you couldn’t use it if you already owed money – and of course, I already did. So there was nothing I could do; just zip up my jacket and start walking.
After the long hike home I was icy cold, and when I walked into our house there didn’t seem to be any rise in the temperature. Nobody was home, which wasn’t unusual. But our dog, Tyson, went bonkers when I went in through the front door; at least somebody was pleased to see me.
I went into the kitchen and started looking around for something to eat. All the fridge had to offer was eight cans of lager, a two litre bottle of coke and some cheese that didn’t smell too good.
The cupboards were a bit more promising: soup, baked beans and chip shop style mushy peas. That wasn’t bad. I began to plan my tea, but it all depended on bread. Was there any? I reached up and opened the cupboard…Yes! Half a loaf. That must’ve been my slice of good luck for the day. Anyway, beans on toast. That would do fine; nice and quick and warm.
The plates were all dirty and they were piled up at the side of the sink. I chose the one that looked least scummy, washed it under the tap and got on with making my tea.
When it was ready I took it into the living room. I turned on the television and sank down into the deep dip in the settee. Tyson had followed me, and he sat watching every mouthful I ate. The programme on TV was that one where the chefs have to make a meal out of just a few ingredients. Ha, I thought to myself – I’d like to see what they could come up with out of our kitchen!
The beans were almost finished when I heard my mom’s key in the door and she walked in.
‘Hello love.’
Love, I thought; she’s in a good mood.
‘Lacey upstairs?’ she asked.
Oh God. My stomach did a somersault and my eyes got wide. I was meant to pick up my little sister from her primary school on my way home. I had totally forgotten. It was getting put in isolation that’d done it – anybody’s mind would’ve gone dead in there.
My mom read the look on my face and immediately went mental.
‘I don’t believe it, not again. What’s up with you? It was the last thing I said to you before you took her to school this morning. Don’t forget to pick her up I said. Those teachers already think I’m useless….’
I tried to get an excuse in but she was off again, shaking her head and really laying into me.
‘For God’s sake, can’t you do anything right? She could be anywhere by now. Not that you’d care, you selfish little sod. You don’t care about anybody except yourself.’
I thought about Lacey waiting for me at school and me not turning up, and for a couple of seconds I felt sick. But then I thought about it again, and this time I felt mad instead. I mean why should I have to pick Lacey up anyway? Why should I be the one feeling guilty?
Normally, I would’ve argued back with my mom and asked all this. Sometimes we had real shouting matches and said foul things to each other.
But this time, after I’d stared at her for a few seconds, I decided to leave it. She had tears in her eyes and her hands were shaking as she rummaged around in her pockets for a cigarette and a lighter. I almost apologised, then didn’t. I didn’t really do apologies as a rule, not unless it was to get me out of isolation at school; I could sometimes manage one then, but it was just words.
I sat back and fixed my eyes on the television. Leave her to it; let her have her moment of self-pity I thought, let her scream and shout and accuse me of being selfish. I didn’t care; I knew exactly what she was doing. Really, deep down, she felt bad about not picking Lacey up herself; after all, it wasn’t like she’d been at work all day or anything, she’d just been ‘out.’
But that was too hard for her to admit to herself you see, it was easier for her to blame me. That way she could keep on believing that she was a good mom and if only she didn’t have such a lazy good for nothing son, everything would be all right.
After a few minutes I could feel her looking at me, and I glanced round a bit to see how she was looking at me. Her eyes were dry by then, but the expression on her face was cold and hard and bitter.
Some people said I’d got eyes like my mom, but I didn’t think so. A girl once told me that I’d got puppy-dog eyes. I’m not really sure what ‘puppy-dog eyes’ are like, but I was certain at that minute that my mom didn’t have them. She had a full-grown fighting Pit Bull’s eyes maybe, but they’re not the same, are they?
She kept that look up for what seemed like ages. Then she shook her head again, took a long drag on the cigarette and sighed loudly. She picked up her bag and got out her mobile phone to ring the school. We hadn’t had a proper phone for years; it’d been cut-off when my mom didn’t pay the bill. But luckily she had some credit on her mobile, and even more luckily, Lacey was still at the school and was OK.
‘No thanks to you, you useless little git.’
These were my mom’s last words as she stormed out of the house and slammed the front door behind her.
I sat there for a while gazing at the T.V. Now I had a choice: I could either sit there and feel bad until my mom got home with Lacey, and then try and make things OK again, or, I could get changed, take the lager from the fridge and go round to Chris’s party.
‘Slag,’ I shouted out loud, as I stood up and ran up the stairs two at a time. I deliberately left my dirty plate on the living room floor for Tyson to lick clean.
I had a shower and found something to wear. The jeans weren’t exactly sparkling and the T-shirt could’ve done with an iron, but it would be dark at the party, and the creases would drop out eventually. I threw my school uniform in the corner and promised myself I’d remember to wash and iron it ready for Monday morning.
Downstairs, I decided I’d just take four of the cans of lager. My mom was already in a bad mood, and if she came home to find the fridge emptied of alcohol, then she’d take it out on Lacey. I gave Tyson a bit of a pat and a stroke and then I picked up the cans, left the house and walked round to my mate’s.
Chris’s sister, Gemma, opened the door.
‘Hey-up gorgeous,’ she laughed, and she gave me a big hug.
The house was warm. There was a sweet smell in the air and I smiled. I left my cans of lager on the table in the kitchen and chose a bottle of Stella instead; this was much stronger than the cheap stuff my mother bought. Then I walked into the living room and claimed a spot on the settee. It was comfortable and nice, and after cadging a cigarette from a dopey but keen looking girl, I reckoned that I was set up for the night.
I was still a bit uptight inside; I pictured that look on my mother’s face and I shivered. But I was glad I’d come to the party and I was looking forward to having a good time.
As it got later, the music got louder, the house got fuller, and I got more and more drunk. There were loads of kids who I knew off the estate there and I really began to lighten up. The rough day I’d had began to fade from my mind and I laughed, drank and smoked along with everybody else.
And then, about midnight, I saw Mel – that lass from school. I wasn’t sure if she’d been there all night, but if she had, I was surprised I hadn’t noticed her earlier. She was talking to Gemma and giggling – and she looked hot.
She sort of stood out, you know? She was so confident and you could tell she just loved herself. She was different to the girls who I usually went with. Her clothes were better, her hair was shinier, and her make-up didn’t look like it’d been put on with a paint-ball gun. She was quieter and she didn’t swear in every sentence. But there was one thing I couldn’t help noticing; she was just as tough.
Mel laughed again more loudly than before, and as she flicked her long dark hair away from her face, she caught my eye, and she looked at me for a few seconds longer than she needed to. The group of lads who I was sitting with began to follow my gaze, and when they saw who I was looking at, the crude comments and laughter that went with any conversation about a fit looking bird began.
I told them I knew her and that she’d be no problem.
Chris laughed. ‘In your dreams lover boy. She wouldn’t look at you twice, you scrubber.’
I laughed back, it wasn’t disrespectful for us to call each other ‘scrubber;’ we knew it was just a joke. But if the other kids called us anything like that, it would usually cause a fight.
‘No problem,’ I repeated. ‘Just you watch.’
And with that, I wandered over to Mel and began to talk.
A lot of the time I’m not much of a talker. Firstly, I think it’s because everybody’s always talking at me: my mother, the teachers, Lacey. Basically I didn’t have to talk; they all managed to keep the ‘conversation’ running along just fine by themselves. Secondly, with the girls who I usually spent my time with, I didn’t need to say an awful lot. They were happy enough without the speeches; it wasn’t my words they were after.
But Mel wasn’t going to be like that, she was going to make me work. She was so cool. She put a blank look on her face, stared straight into my eyes and waited to see what I could possibly do to impress her. This was new to me and I found it different; interesting.
‘Didn’t expect to see you here,’ I said, and I smiled one of my most charming smiles. ‘Glad that I have though.’
She didn’t reply, but there was a hesitation. It wasn’t a brush off; a girl with her confidence would’ve told me to get lost straight away if that’d been what she meant. But Mel didn’t; she just kept on staring. Something was still holding her back a bit, but she was interested all right.
I kept smiling and half wondered if she was pleased by what I’d said; whether she’d been secretly watching me during all those boring maths lessons? Or, perhaps she was just after a good time and anybody would do? Maybe she’d had a row with her parents that night as well, and this was her way of getting back at them; knowing how gutted they’d be if they discovered that their little girl was getting smashed at a sleazy party on a rough estate and being hit on by a kid they’d hate.
I soon stopped wondering though, and went back to sweet-talking Mel. I didn’t care what her reasons were anyway; the point was that I was here and she was here and the lads over in the corner were waiting.
‘You look really nice,’ I went on, and I reached out my hand and ran it softly down her arm. ‘I’ve never seen you out of school uniform before, you look great.’
For a split second and without really wanting to, Mel smiled. It was a smug smile, but it was definitely a smile. She tried to cover it up quick though, by having a right long drink from the bottle she was holding.
I watched her carefully and tried to work out exactly how drunk she was. It wasn’t easy. Her eyes were just starting to mist over a bit, but she still seemed steady enough and in control. I decided that she’d probably smiled because she was flattered, rather than because she was out of it; I was doing well.
‘You look old,’ she said out of nowhere. ‘You look too old to be still going to school.’
She was right I suppose, as I stood there with a bottle in one hand and a cigarette in the other, I was hardly the image of typical school boy; but then again, I don’t think I ever had been.
‘Well, I won’t be going for much longer will I? A few more months and I’ll be free.’
‘Like you’ll notice the difference,’ she said smartly. ‘You’re hardly a regular attender as it is.’
I smiled at the dig. She still couldn’t quite let herself be nice to me.
‘What are you going to do when you leave?’ I asked her, like I genuinely cared and was interested.
‘I’m going to study medicine,’ Mel announced, and she said it in the tone of voice that most people would’ve used to tell you that Tuesdays follow Mondays.
For some reason, it made me want to laugh. I mean you could just imagine it if she ever took me home to tea couldn’t you?
‘Hi darling, who’s this that you’ve brought home?’
‘Mummy, Daddy, this is my new boyfriend, Danny.’
‘Hello there young Daniel, and where do you live?’
‘Oh I live on the biggest estate in Sheffield. You know, the one with all the burned out cars, boarded up buildings, gangs, graffiti, crack houses…’
‘How lovely. And what would you like to do when you leave school?’
‘Ah well, I’ve got lots of opportunities open to me. I’ve received training in petty crime, cannabis farming and benefit fraud.’
‘Well that’s super. I’m sure that you will both be very happy together. Now, would you like caviar or lobster for starters?’
Yeah, right!
Anyway, me and Mel carried on talking for a bit longer. I asked her how she’d ended up at the party and she told me, but I wasn’t really listening. I used the time to move a little closer, get my arm around her shoulder and make the most of my puppy dog eyes.
A few cracks began to appear in the hard front that she’d put on, and she soon started to soften up. She even laughed when I said the only reason Chris had such a big telly, was because he was trying to make up for other things in his life that were so tiny.
I can’t say she was exactly throwing herself at me, but she never once pulled away or looked anything but pleased – or smug maybe – but she definitely didn’t try to put me off.
Within twenty minutes we were going upstairs together. I guided her across the living room with my hand on her back, and as we passed the group of lads, I smirked at Chris and winked.
Copyright © Kate Hanney
One
The day of Chris’s party had been shit. I’d had a row at home, isolation at school, no bus fare and no fags. I should’ve known it was the wrong day to take a chance with the pregnancy thing. My luck was bang out.
I’d only gone to school in the first place to get the ‘Education Welfare Officer’ off my back. He’d been round to the house again, acting all serious and talking about legal action. At first, I was going to ignore him like usual, but my mom got the face on, and I thought the best way to keep them both happy was to just turn up every now and again. So the next morning, I went.
It was all OK until French. I hated French – oh I know everybody does – but I really couldn’t stand it. Our usual teacher wasn’t too bad with me though. She, like most of the others, sort of knew I wasn’t going to do much because I didn’t see the point.
I was never going to be a brain surgeon was I? And I really didn’t see what difference a couple of GCSEs were going to make to my life. She understood this, and she pretty much left me alone. But that Friday we had a cover teacher. I knew him a bit, he’d been in some of our lessons before; but he didn’t know me, not well enough to realise when to back off anyway.
It started from the minute I walked through the door. It was the second lesson of the day, and we didn’t have a break between that and the first. So it was always a bit difficult: leaving lesson one, trying to get twos on a fag, and then not being late for the next lesson. Well I was a bit late that day, only a couple of minutes, but it was enough to wind him up.
‘What’s your name?’ he snapped.
I told him, and he made the ‘Ah’ sound. The ‘Ah’ meant he recognised my name; he knew now that I was one of those lads who hardly ever attended, and when I did, I always managed to get my name on the detention list. He shook his head and sighed; the look on his face was so dirty that he’d have needed bleach to get it off.
‘Well, what do you think you’re playing at, turning up at this time?’
He was being right mardy, and he didn’t give me chance to answer the first question before he went babbling on with the next.
‘Who do you think you are, blah, blah, blah…disturbing the lesson, blah, blah…you’ll make the time up at break, blah, blah, blah.’
OK, OK, I thought, staying calm. It’s only a couple of minutes, I can put up with that.
I tried hard to ignore him and made my way to an empty chair at the back.
The next thing it was my jacket. We’re not supposed to wear coats during the lessons, but it was freezing in that classroom and I only had a T-shirt on underneath. Sometimes I could get away with leaving it on. But not that day; Mr Supply Teacher was going to follow the rules to the letter.
‘Remove your coat as well,’ he shouted, before I’d even sat down.
‘OK, give me a chance,’ I said.
‘Don’t speak to me like that,’ he said. ‘Just do it!’
I knew he was being all cocky and going over the top, but I decided to let him. I preferred to keep quiet if I could, so I sat down and took my jacket off. The cold made me shiver.
He put some worksheets in front of me and walked away. They weren’t hard and I could probably have had a go at them. But I didn’t, because I hadn’t brought a pen.
Now let’s face it, I had all on getting myself up on time, putting on something that resembled school uniform, getting my little sister up, getting her to school, then getting me to school and finding out where I should be, without remembering to bring a pen as well. I knew I didn’t have one, I never did, but because he’d had a go at me twice in two minutes, I thought I’d wait and see what happened; sometimes cover teachers never even got up from sitting behind the desk.
I sat and looked out of the window for a bit. Some of the girls were on the field doing P.E. and it was quite entertaining. I knew a few of them well and the memories made me smile – but not for long though. Unfortunately, the muppet at the front must’ve felt like a walk round, and all at once, there he was, standing in front of me.
‘You’ve done absolutely nothing. You’ve been sitting there all this time and you haven’t written a single word.’
I looked at him.
‘What’s a matter with you lad, why haven’t done anything?’
‘I haven’t got a pen,’ I answered.
Now normally the teachers would tut and shake their heads a bit when this happened. But then, they’d just go and get me a pen and I’d make an effort to do some work. But this idiot, he decided he was going to make a big deal about it.
‘Oh he hasn’t got a pen,’ he shouted, all dramatic, waving his hands in the air.
‘Well, perhaps if you sit there long enough, one will fly in through the window and land straight in your hand.’
He looked around at the other kids, pleased with himself. Maybe he thought that he’d get a laugh, that they’d be impressed with his wit. But most of them weren’t even listening, and the ones who were didn’t have a clue what he was on about.
I just glared at him. I hated people being sarcastic anyway, but from a teacher, it really did my head in. I mean there was no need for it. Why couldn’t he just say “Well you should’ve asked for one earlier”? And then he would’ve been right, and I wouldn’t have argued. Why did he have to make it into an event? Why did he try to show me up and make me look stupid?
I shook my head.
‘You sad bastard.’
I sighed out my thoughts almost under my breath. And it was the almost that got me into trouble; a bit quieter and he wouldn’t have heard. But he did, and he threw a real strop.
‘What did you say?’
Oh God, here we go.
‘Nothing,’ I said. I didn’t feel like arguing.
‘Yes you did, I heard you. Now come on, if you’re big enough to say it in the first place then at least be brave enough to admit it.’
He was proper shouting now; acting all hard and pushing and pushing me, more and more. All the other kids had gone quiet and they were all looking at me; I could feel my stomach getting tight. I really hadn’t wanted any trouble, but he just wouldn’t leave it alone.
‘Well, I’m waiting. Or aren’t you so clever now?’
He obviously thought that because I was keeping quiet I was scared of him, and that must’ve made him feel good.
He came right up to my desk and leaned over, really near to my face.
‘Not so brave when you’ve got to say it out loud are you? Well you’re pathetic lad. Absolutely pathetic…aren’t you?’
As he shouted out his high and mighty opinions, I felt some of his spit land on my lips, and then I just couldn’t hold it in any longer. It was right what I’d said anyway, he’d just proved it, right there in front of all the other kids.
‘I said you’re a Sad Bastard.’
I didn’t shout, but I said it plenty loud enough and I looked straight at him as I spoke.
He stood bolt upright then with a shocked look on his face. That had thrown him. He really hadn’t expected that; he’d probably thought I was going to agree with him, or apologise or something. Because I hadn’t said anything for so long, he thought he’d won his little battle and made me look stupid and pathetic or whatever it was he was trying to do.
He didn’t know what to say now though, so he did what they always do in that situation – he pointed at the door and screamed, ‘Get out!’
And as he stood there with his arm stretched out, I could see that his hand was shaking.
I hesitated for a second. I could’ve had a real go at him then, like I would’ve done when I was younger. I could have told him about himself or threatened him or even thrown a few things. But I’d shaken him up alright and that was enough. And I knew I’d be going into isolation for what I’d done already. So although I was really wound up, I kept my mouth shut. I’d made my point and so I did what I was told. I stood up, got my jacket and walked out of the room.
Outside in the corridor, I threw myself back against the wall hard. I swore a few times, and thought about what I’d like to do to him.
But then I tried to calm myself down. I’d learned the benefit of doing that a long time ago. They liked to see that you could sort yourself out a bit, ‘Anger Management’ they called it. I closed my eyes for a second and took a few deep breaths. After a while, my heart started to beat slower.
One of the girls came out of the classroom with an orange piece of paper in her hand. This was a sort of form thing that the teachers filled in when somebody had kicked off and they wanted them dealing with. They wrote down what had happened and then they got a ‘good kid’ to take it to the office.
This ‘good kid’ was called Mel. I didn’t know her that well, but as she walked passed she looked at me. It was a strange look; one that I couldn’t quite work out. It wasn’t the ‘you low-down piece of crap’ look that I would’ve expected from her. It was a sort of smile, and it was enough to make my eyes follow her all the way down the corridor.
When she’d gone out of sight, I thought about what’d happened again and I almost went home – it wouldn’t have been the first time I’d walked out of school. But then I saw old Rogers coming towards me with the orange form in his hand. Mr Rogers was the deputy head, and to be honest, we’d always got on OK. The only run-ins we had were at times like this, when somebody else had wound me up and he had to deal with it.
‘Oh Danny, not again.’
These were his first words as he stopped and stood next to me. He looked quite mad.
‘It’s really not on! You can’t just go on saying these things. You know you should bring a pen, and if you don’t, you should ask to borrow one properly. You know that, don’t you?’
As well as looking mad, he seemed disappointed and I nearly felt a bit bad then. What he’d said so far was true, what could I say? I looked across the corridor and out of the window.
‘Yes sir,’ I said, and he carried on.
‘You can’t just start swearing and causing trouble like this. I’ve told you before.’
He paused for a minute, and then said, ‘There was no need for this to have happened was there?’
I didn’t answer.
‘Was there Danny?’
His voice had got louder and I turned my head back to look at him. I wanted to tell him then, I wanted to tell him how it’d all been his fault, Mr what-ever his name was – if he hadn’t tried to show me up and make me look thick in the first place, and then if he’d have just left me alone, I mean he’d kept asking me what I’d said hadn’t he? He’d pushed me into repeating it, going on and on and on.
But what was the point? It wouldn’t have done me any good anyway; they always stuck together in the end.
So I cut my losses, ‘No sir,’ I said quietly.
I thought he was going to tell me to apologise then, but he didn’t; maybe he could tell it wasn’t the best time. There was no way I would’ve said sorry then anyway, no chance. But he knew if he left me alone for a bit, I’d be more likely to do what he said.
‘Right; good,’ he nodded. ‘Now, come with me up to the PRU.’
I followed him all the way along the corridor and up the stairs.
Our isolation unit was foul. I mean I know it wasn’t supposed to be a holiday camp or anything, but it was the most depressing place in the world. When I first started at that school it was always called ‘Isolation’, but then a couple of years ago somebody decided it should be called a Pupil Referral Unit or ‘PRU.’ That sounded much more friendly didn’t it? Well it wasn’t. It was exactly the same as it always had been; sub-zero temperatures and boring as hell.
It was an old classroom that had been split up into what they called ‘bases,’ and when we got there, Rogers told me which one to sit in. As I flopped down, the teacher who ran it looked at me and nearly said something. Maybe she was going to tell me to take my coat off or something, I don’t know, because she quickly changed her mind and said nothing. She’d known me for a while and could tell that I was pissed off. She decided to leave me alone.
Rogers told me that I had to spend the rest of the day there, but if I behaved myself, I could go back into normal lessons on Monday.
‘But,’ he said seriously. ‘This is getting far too regular Danny. If it happens again, you’ll be looking at another exclusion.’
I frowned – didn’t he realise that an exclusion would suit me down to the ground? It would give me a real proper reason for not going to school.
He cottoned on to what I was thinking and he couldn’t help smiling.
‘Just try not to do it again Danny, eh; it’s better for everybody. OK?’
I nodded and he went.
Bastard supply teacher, I thought to myself, and I put my hood up, got my key out of my pocket and started carving into the desk.
TWO
The four and a half hours that I’d spent in isolation that day seemed more like four and a half weeks. It was sooo boring. And then on top of that, when I got let out at three o’clock, I realised I hadn’t got enough money for bus fare. There was a loan system set up at our school for this sort of thing, but you couldn’t use it if you already owed money – and of course, I already did. So there was nothing I could do; just zip up my jacket and start walking.
After the long hike home I was icy cold, and when I walked into our house there didn’t seem to be any rise in the temperature. Nobody was home, which wasn’t unusual. But our dog, Tyson, went bonkers when I went in through the front door; at least somebody was pleased to see me.
I went into the kitchen and started looking around for something to eat. All the fridge had to offer was eight cans of lager, a two litre bottle of coke and some cheese that didn’t smell too good.
The cupboards were a bit more promising: soup, baked beans and chip shop style mushy peas. That wasn’t bad. I began to plan my tea, but it all depended on bread. Was there any? I reached up and opened the cupboard…Yes! Half a loaf. That must’ve been my slice of good luck for the day. Anyway, beans on toast. That would do fine; nice and quick and warm.
The plates were all dirty and they were piled up at the side of the sink. I chose the one that looked least scummy, washed it under the tap and got on with making my tea.
When it was ready I took it into the living room. I turned on the television and sank down into the deep dip in the settee. Tyson had followed me, and he sat watching every mouthful I ate. The programme on TV was that one where the chefs have to make a meal out of just a few ingredients. Ha, I thought to myself – I’d like to see what they could come up with out of our kitchen!
The beans were almost finished when I heard my mom’s key in the door and she walked in.
‘Hello love.’
Love, I thought; she’s in a good mood.
‘Lacey upstairs?’ she asked.
Oh God. My stomach did a somersault and my eyes got wide. I was meant to pick up my little sister from her primary school on my way home. I had totally forgotten. It was getting put in isolation that’d done it – anybody’s mind would’ve gone dead in there.
My mom read the look on my face and immediately went mental.
‘I don’t believe it, not again. What’s up with you? It was the last thing I said to you before you took her to school this morning. Don’t forget to pick her up I said. Those teachers already think I’m useless….’
I tried to get an excuse in but she was off again, shaking her head and really laying into me.
‘For God’s sake, can’t you do anything right? She could be anywhere by now. Not that you’d care, you selfish little sod. You don’t care about anybody except yourself.’
I thought about Lacey waiting for me at school and me not turning up, and for a couple of seconds I felt sick. But then I thought about it again, and this time I felt mad instead. I mean why should I have to pick Lacey up anyway? Why should I be the one feeling guilty?
Normally, I would’ve argued back with my mom and asked all this. Sometimes we had real shouting matches and said foul things to each other.
But this time, after I’d stared at her for a few seconds, I decided to leave it. She had tears in her eyes and her hands were shaking as she rummaged around in her pockets for a cigarette and a lighter. I almost apologised, then didn’t. I didn’t really do apologies as a rule, not unless it was to get me out of isolation at school; I could sometimes manage one then, but it was just words.
I sat back and fixed my eyes on the television. Leave her to it; let her have her moment of self-pity I thought, let her scream and shout and accuse me of being selfish. I didn’t care; I knew exactly what she was doing. Really, deep down, she felt bad about not picking Lacey up herself; after all, it wasn’t like she’d been at work all day or anything, she’d just been ‘out.’
But that was too hard for her to admit to herself you see, it was easier for her to blame me. That way she could keep on believing that she was a good mom and if only she didn’t have such a lazy good for nothing son, everything would be all right.
After a few minutes I could feel her looking at me, and I glanced round a bit to see how she was looking at me. Her eyes were dry by then, but the expression on her face was cold and hard and bitter.
Some people said I’d got eyes like my mom, but I didn’t think so. A girl once told me that I’d got puppy-dog eyes. I’m not really sure what ‘puppy-dog eyes’ are like, but I was certain at that minute that my mom didn’t have them. She had a full-grown fighting Pit Bull’s eyes maybe, but they’re not the same, are they?
She kept that look up for what seemed like ages. Then she shook her head again, took a long drag on the cigarette and sighed loudly. She picked up her bag and got out her mobile phone to ring the school. We hadn’t had a proper phone for years; it’d been cut-off when my mom didn’t pay the bill. But luckily she had some credit on her mobile, and even more luckily, Lacey was still at the school and was OK.
‘No thanks to you, you useless little git.’
These were my mom’s last words as she stormed out of the house and slammed the front door behind her.
I sat there for a while gazing at the T.V. Now I had a choice: I could either sit there and feel bad until my mom got home with Lacey, and then try and make things OK again, or, I could get changed, take the lager from the fridge and go round to Chris’s party.
‘Slag,’ I shouted out loud, as I stood up and ran up the stairs two at a time. I deliberately left my dirty plate on the living room floor for Tyson to lick clean.
I had a shower and found something to wear. The jeans weren’t exactly sparkling and the T-shirt could’ve done with an iron, but it would be dark at the party, and the creases would drop out eventually. I threw my school uniform in the corner and promised myself I’d remember to wash and iron it ready for Monday morning.
Downstairs, I decided I’d just take four of the cans of lager. My mom was already in a bad mood, and if she came home to find the fridge emptied of alcohol, then she’d take it out on Lacey. I gave Tyson a bit of a pat and a stroke and then I picked up the cans, left the house and walked round to my mate’s.
Chris’s sister, Gemma, opened the door.
‘Hey-up gorgeous,’ she laughed, and she gave me a big hug.
The house was warm. There was a sweet smell in the air and I smiled. I left my cans of lager on the table in the kitchen and chose a bottle of Stella instead; this was much stronger than the cheap stuff my mother bought. Then I walked into the living room and claimed a spot on the settee. It was comfortable and nice, and after cadging a cigarette from a dopey but keen looking girl, I reckoned that I was set up for the night.
I was still a bit uptight inside; I pictured that look on my mother’s face and I shivered. But I was glad I’d come to the party and I was looking forward to having a good time.
As it got later, the music got louder, the house got fuller, and I got more and more drunk. There were loads of kids who I knew off the estate there and I really began to lighten up. The rough day I’d had began to fade from my mind and I laughed, drank and smoked along with everybody else.
And then, about midnight, I saw Mel – that lass from school. I wasn’t sure if she’d been there all night, but if she had, I was surprised I hadn’t noticed her earlier. She was talking to Gemma and giggling – and she looked hot.
She sort of stood out, you know? She was so confident and you could tell she just loved herself. She was different to the girls who I usually went with. Her clothes were better, her hair was shinier, and her make-up didn’t look like it’d been put on with a paint-ball gun. She was quieter and she didn’t swear in every sentence. But there was one thing I couldn’t help noticing; she was just as tough.
Mel laughed again more loudly than before, and as she flicked her long dark hair away from her face, she caught my eye, and she looked at me for a few seconds longer than she needed to. The group of lads who I was sitting with began to follow my gaze, and when they saw who I was looking at, the crude comments and laughter that went with any conversation about a fit looking bird began.
I told them I knew her and that she’d be no problem.
Chris laughed. ‘In your dreams lover boy. She wouldn’t look at you twice, you scrubber.’
I laughed back, it wasn’t disrespectful for us to call each other ‘scrubber;’ we knew it was just a joke. But if the other kids called us anything like that, it would usually cause a fight.
‘No problem,’ I repeated. ‘Just you watch.’
And with that, I wandered over to Mel and began to talk.
A lot of the time I’m not much of a talker. Firstly, I think it’s because everybody’s always talking at me: my mother, the teachers, Lacey. Basically I didn’t have to talk; they all managed to keep the ‘conversation’ running along just fine by themselves. Secondly, with the girls who I usually spent my time with, I didn’t need to say an awful lot. They were happy enough without the speeches; it wasn’t my words they were after.
But Mel wasn’t going to be like that, she was going to make me work. She was so cool. She put a blank look on her face, stared straight into my eyes and waited to see what I could possibly do to impress her. This was new to me and I found it different; interesting.
‘Didn’t expect to see you here,’ I said, and I smiled one of my most charming smiles. ‘Glad that I have though.’
She didn’t reply, but there was a hesitation. It wasn’t a brush off; a girl with her confidence would’ve told me to get lost straight away if that’d been what she meant. But Mel didn’t; she just kept on staring. Something was still holding her back a bit, but she was interested all right.
I kept smiling and half wondered if she was pleased by what I’d said; whether she’d been secretly watching me during all those boring maths lessons? Or, perhaps she was just after a good time and anybody would do? Maybe she’d had a row with her parents that night as well, and this was her way of getting back at them; knowing how gutted they’d be if they discovered that their little girl was getting smashed at a sleazy party on a rough estate and being hit on by a kid they’d hate.
I soon stopped wondering though, and went back to sweet-talking Mel. I didn’t care what her reasons were anyway; the point was that I was here and she was here and the lads over in the corner were waiting.
‘You look really nice,’ I went on, and I reached out my hand and ran it softly down her arm. ‘I’ve never seen you out of school uniform before, you look great.’
For a split second and without really wanting to, Mel smiled. It was a smug smile, but it was definitely a smile. She tried to cover it up quick though, by having a right long drink from the bottle she was holding.
I watched her carefully and tried to work out exactly how drunk she was. It wasn’t easy. Her eyes were just starting to mist over a bit, but she still seemed steady enough and in control. I decided that she’d probably smiled because she was flattered, rather than because she was out of it; I was doing well.
‘You look old,’ she said out of nowhere. ‘You look too old to be still going to school.’
She was right I suppose, as I stood there with a bottle in one hand and a cigarette in the other, I was hardly the image of typical school boy; but then again, I don’t think I ever had been.
‘Well, I won’t be going for much longer will I? A few more months and I’ll be free.’
‘Like you’ll notice the difference,’ she said smartly. ‘You’re hardly a regular attender as it is.’
I smiled at the dig. She still couldn’t quite let herself be nice to me.
‘What are you going to do when you leave?’ I asked her, like I genuinely cared and was interested.
‘I’m going to study medicine,’ Mel announced, and she said it in the tone of voice that most people would’ve used to tell you that Tuesdays follow Mondays.
For some reason, it made me want to laugh. I mean you could just imagine it if she ever took me home to tea couldn’t you?
‘Hi darling, who’s this that you’ve brought home?’
‘Mummy, Daddy, this is my new boyfriend, Danny.’
‘Hello there young Daniel, and where do you live?’
‘Oh I live on the biggest estate in Sheffield. You know, the one with all the burned out cars, boarded up buildings, gangs, graffiti, crack houses…’
‘How lovely. And what would you like to do when you leave school?’
‘Ah well, I’ve got lots of opportunities open to me. I’ve received training in petty crime, cannabis farming and benefit fraud.’
‘Well that’s super. I’m sure that you will both be very happy together. Now, would you like caviar or lobster for starters?’
Yeah, right!
Anyway, me and Mel carried on talking for a bit longer. I asked her how she’d ended up at the party and she told me, but I wasn’t really listening. I used the time to move a little closer, get my arm around her shoulder and make the most of my puppy dog eyes.
A few cracks began to appear in the hard front that she’d put on, and she soon started to soften up. She even laughed when I said the only reason Chris had such a big telly, was because he was trying to make up for other things in his life that were so tiny.
I can’t say she was exactly throwing herself at me, but she never once pulled away or looked anything but pleased – or smug maybe – but she definitely didn’t try to put me off.
Within twenty minutes we were going upstairs together. I guided her across the living room with my hand on her back, and as we passed the group of lads, I smirked at Chris and winked.
