One Moment

by Linda Green

  Lewis R is sitting behind me and he obviously heard what she said because as soon as she has gone, he kicks my chair and says ‘Why aren’t you doing the tests? Everyone has got to do the tests, it’s the law.’ And other kids hear him, and they start talking about me and why I’m not doing the tests and I want to disappear so badly that it starts to hurt.

  They are all still looking at me and talking about me as we go out into the playground. Ryan comes up to me and says, ‘I know why you’re not doing the tests. It’s because you’re a girl.’

  Tyler says: ‘No, it’s because his mum complained and he’s a little mummy’s boy,’ and everyone starts laughing and I am looking around for Lottie but I can’t see her and everything is going blurry and then they start laughing at me because I am crying and I shout something very loudly but I am not sure what it is, and Miss Dye comes up and puts her hand on my shoulder and leads me back into school.

  She takes me to the welfare room. It is a small room that used to be a sort of cupboard and they keep the first aid kit in there and there are two big beanbags on the floor and kids come here sometimes if they are feeling poorly or need a time-out. When I was little, I used to call it the farewell room and that always made Mum and Dad laugh. I don’t know if they’d laugh about it any more.

  Miss Dye hands me a tissue and I dab at my eyes, then screw it up in my hand.

  ‘What’s the matter, Finn?’ she asks.

  She asks it nicely but I want to ask her if she hasn’t been paying attention because my mum and dad are getting a divorce and fighting over me and I don’t even know if I am doing the tests on Monday and I only have one friend in the whole world and all the other kids hate me and make fun of me all the time and I would have thought the answer was pretty obvious.

  ‘Nothing,’ I reply.

  ‘Why did you just swear at the other children?’

  ‘Did I?’

  ‘Yes.’

  I wonder what word I said but I don’t think I should ask that.

  ‘Oh. Sorry, Miss. I was getting very cross with them.’

  ‘Were they bothering you?’

  ‘They always bother me.’

  ‘What were they saying to you?’

  ‘Just stuff.’

  ‘What sort of stuff?’

  ‘About me not doing the tests, about me being a girl and a mummy’s boy.’

  Miss Dye looks sad. She was my teacher in year four and I liked her.

  ‘Would you like me to have a chat with Mrs Kerrigan or Mrs Ratcliffe about this?’

  I shake my head. That will only make it worse and I want it to get better, not worse. I see Miss Dye glance at the clock on the wall. Break will be over in a few minutes and she will have to go and teach her class.

  ‘Are you going to be OK to go back to your lessons now, Finn?’ she asks. ‘I can phone your mum if not.’

  I don’t want her to say anything to Mum because she is sad enough as it is, without this making her even sadder.

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ I say. ‘Does it look like I’ve been crying?’

  I know it does because even if I cry for five minutes, you can tell I’ve been crying for about the next five hours. Mum is the same. She says it’s something to do with having pale skin and red hair. Dad has got different skin and brown hair, so he doesn’t have that problem. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him looking like he’s been crying but maybe that’s because he’s never cried. I certainly can’t remember him ever doing it.

  ‘You look fine,’ Miss Dye lies, and pats me on the shoulder.

  I hear the bell being rung and I go back to my classroom. Mrs Kerrigan looks up and smiles at me.

  ‘Are you OK, Finn?’ she asks, even though she must be able to see that I am clearly not OK.

  I nod because that seems less of a lie than lying out loud. I sit down and a moment later Lottie comes in and sits down next to me.

  ‘What happened?’ she whispers. ‘They’re saying you went crazy and shouted at everyone to piss off.’

  I am a bit disappointed I didn’t say a ruder word than that but try not to let it show.

  ‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘I did.’

  ‘I can’t believe I missed it,’ says Lottie.

  ‘Where were you?’

  ‘In the loo. Will you do it again at lunchtime so I can hear?’

  I shrug. I don’t want to do it again but I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop myself. It’s like all the anger is overflowing and I don’t know how to stuff it back in. The others come in and sit down at their desks. Everyone is looking at me again and whispering and I am wondering if it will ever get any better, but I am pretty sure it won’t.

  *

  I am expecting trouble at lunchtime, but I am not expecting it the second I step out into the playground. Which is a shame, because Tyler is lying in wait for me behind the door and punches me in the side of my face.

  ‘That’s for telling me to piss off,’ he says.

  His fist feels like it has gone right through my cheek but when I touch it, the skin is still there. All the other kids are staring, and Lottie has her arm round me and is shouting at the dinner lady to come over, but it seems to be ages before she does. Then Mrs Ratcliffe comes out and it all gets noisy as everyone tries to tell her what happened at the same time and she tells Tyler to go and stand outside her office and asks me to come inside with her.

  Lottie comes with me because she is my friend and that’s the sort of thing friends do. Well, girls do, I don’t think boys would bother. Mrs Ratcliffe takes me to the welfare room and asks to look inside my mouth to make sure I’m not bleeding, and I still have all my teeth. I’m not and I do, which is good because I don’t want to tell Mum about this in case it makes her cry even more.

  ‘Now, Finn, I need to go and deal with Tyler. Will you be OK sitting here with Lottie for a minute until I get a member of staff to come and take over?’

  I nod. I wonder what’s going to happen to Tyler. If he was a grown-up and she was still a policewoman she would probably get him locked up in jail but because he’s a kid and she’s a head teacher he’ll probably just get a detention.

  ‘Tyler’s going to get in such massive trouble,’ Lottie says, as soon as Mrs Ratcliffe has gone.

  ‘He’ll probably blame me for that.’

  ‘Ignore him, he’s an idiot.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I say. And then I think that the one good thing about being hit is that I haven’t thought about all the bad stuff with Mum and Dad for at least ten minutes.

  *

  Mum is waiting for me outside the school gates at the end of the day, all bright and smiley as usual, as if this morning never happened.

  ‘Hi, love,’ she says. ‘Everything OK?’

  I nod. I am hoping she will leave it at that and I won’t have a bruise on my cheek in the morning and can pretend it never happened but then she sees Lottie and waves to her and Lottie comes over and before I can give her a look, Lottie tells her.

  Mum frowns at me.

  ‘A boy punched you?’ she says.

  ‘Yeah. I’m OK, though,’ I reply.

  ‘You were punched, Finn. There is nothing OK about that. Why didn’t you tell me?’

  I shrug. I feel a scene coming on.

  ‘Lottie told you before I could,’ I reply.

  ‘Well, a member of staff should have phoned me. Or at least come out with you to tell me now. I’m going to go and see Mrs Ratcliffe.’

  I look at Lottie. She mouths ‘Sorry’ to me and I follow Mum back into school. She walks down the corridor like there is a massive wind blowing her from behind and goes straight to the secretary’s office.

  ‘Hello Mrs Ravani. I’d like to see Mrs Ratcliffe please.’

  ‘Is she expecting you?’

  ‘No but I’d like to see her straight away.’

 
Mrs Ravani looks at Mum, then at me, and picks up the phone. A moment later Mrs Ratcliffe comes out of her office. Although she hasn’t been a policewoman for quite a few years now, sometimes she still does what Mum calls her ‘dealing with the troublemakers’ look. She is doing it right now.

  ‘Hello Mrs Rook-Carter,’ she says.

  ‘It’s Ms Rook, actually. Always has been, always will. I’d like to speak to you about what happened to Finn today.’

  ‘Oh, right. Come through to my office,’ she says with one of her ‘not really a smile’ smiles. We follow her through. She offers Mum a seat, but Mum shakes her head.

  ‘First of all, I’d like to know why I wasn’t told that Finn had been hit today.’

  ‘There was no need to trouble you,’ says Mrs Ratcliffe. ‘We dealt with it all ourselves.’

  ‘He’s my son! I have a right to know if he’s been physically attacked at school.’

  ‘I’m afraid we don’t have time to ring parents every time there’s a minor incident in the playground. We’d never be off the phone. It’s like The Jeremy Kyle Show out there some days.’

  Mum stares at Mrs Ratcliffe. I don’t know who Jeremy Kyle is, but the mention of his name seems to have made Mum even angrier.

  ‘Well it shouldn’t be! And I do not consider this a minor incident. I send my son to school every day and I expect you to keep him safe and if you don’t manage that, I expect to be told.’

  Mrs Ratcliffe takes a deep breath and glances up at the ceiling for a moment before looking back at Mum.

  ‘I can assure you that we do our utmost to keep children safe and incidents like these are very rare but obviously in a busy school like ours, they do occur from time to time.’

  ‘Well, which is it? You said it was like The Jeremy Kyle Show out there a moment ago.’

  I don’t think I’d like to watch The Jeremy Kyle Show. It doesn’t sound very nice at all.

  ‘The important thing,’ continues Mrs Ratcliffe, ‘is that we are quite capable of dealing with whatever happens in the playground ourselves and, in our experience, telling parents about every incident tends to inflame the situation for all those concerned.’

  She looks at me as she says it and I think, if I was giving marks for this argument, that I’d probably have to give her one for that.

  ‘And what about the boy who did this to Finn?’ asks Mum.

  ‘He has been dealt with and I do not think he’ll be bothering Finn again.’

  I do. I think he’ll probably whack me as soon as I step into the playground on Monday morning.

  ‘Why did he hit him?’ asks Mum.

  Mrs Ratcliffe glances at me before answering.

  ‘There was an incident in the playground this morning where Finn swore at him and other pupils.’

  Mum looks down at me with a frown.

  ‘Is that true, Finn?’

  I nod.

  ‘Why did you swear at him?’

  ‘He said mean things to me.’

  ‘What sort of things?’

  ‘About me being a girl and a mummy’s boy.’

  Mum shakes her head and looks back at Mrs Ratcliffe.

  ‘And is that going to be dealt with as well or is it going to carry on like this for the rest of his time here?’

  ‘The boy has been spoken to and, as far as I’m concerned, that’s the end of the matter.’

  ‘Not for Finn, it isn’t,’ says Mum. ‘He’s the one on the receiving end.’

  ‘We’ve spoken to Finn and checked him over,’ replies Mrs Ratcliffe, ‘there are no injuries, which is why we didn’t call you. He’s absolutely fine, aren’t you, Finn?’

  She looks down at me. Mum is looking at me too. I don’t know what to do because if I nod it will make it look like Mrs Ratcliffe has won, but if I don’t, it will look like I’m being rude. I start humming inside my head. Hoping I am not doing it out loud.

  ‘I think I’ll be the judge of that,’ says Mum. She turns and marches out of Mrs Ratcliffe’s office. I think I would give Mum a mark for that one too, so maybe it was a draw, I’m not sure.

  ‘You didn’t ask about what’s going to happen to me on Monday,’ I say, as I catch up with Mum in the corridor.

  ‘I’m trying to deal with one thing at a time.’

  ‘What is going to happen on Monday?’

  ‘I don’t know, Finn.’ Mum’s voice is a bit snappy. She never does snappy.

  We go back outside. The other kids have gone home now, so the playground is quiet. School is OK when the other kids aren’t here. Mum said to me once that home education would be a bit like school but without the other kids. Only it would be more fun. I think that means we would do a lot of baking muffins, but we would have to eat them all ourselves because there wouldn’t be other kids to try to sell them to or teachers to buy them because they feel sorry for me. I like the sound of home education. But Dad thinks it’s not proper education at all, which is why it’s not going to happen.

  Mum doesn’t say much on the way home. She has got her worried face on. Dad told me once that I should give as good as I got at school, and Mum got very cross with him. She said if anyone hit me, I should walk away and tell a teacher, but I think she has just realised that it doesn’t work very well.

  When we get home, I see that there is another letter on the kitchen table. It looks like it’s from Mum’s solicitor.

  ‘What does it say?’ I ask.

  ‘Nothing important,’ Mum says, picking it up and putting it in her bag. This means it is important and she is trying to hide it. I don’t know why grown-ups think we don’t understand things like that.

  Mum fills the kettle and flicks the switch. She stands there with her back to me until it boils and then turns round.

  ‘How many times have you been hit since I last had to go in?’ she asks. I don’t know what to say because I don’t want to lie to her, but I don’t want to get her cross and upset either.

  ‘A few,’ I reply.

  ‘Why haven’t you told me?’

  ‘I didn’t want to upset you. Anyway, there’s no point saying anything because nothing’s going to change. It’s just what school’s like.’

  ‘Do other boys get hit or just you?’

  ‘Some other boys,’ I say, ‘but mainly me.’

  Mum shuts her eyes for a second.

  ‘Why do you think that is?’

  ‘Because I’m weird and I don’t thump them back.’

  ‘Who says you’re weird?’

  ‘Everyone apart from Lottie.’

  Mum shakes her head.

  ‘You’re not weird, Finn. You’re just different, unique.’

  ‘It’s the same thing,’ I reply with a shrug.

  ‘It’s not,’ says Mum, walking up to me and putting her hands on my face. ‘I love how you know the name of virtually every variety of rose, I love how you think about things more deeply than other kids, I love how you can play more than a hundred different tunes on your ukulele. None of that is weird – it’s wonderful.’

  ‘Yeah but only because you’re my mum. To the other kids, it’s weird, which is why they keep picking on me.’

  Mum sighs.

  ‘Well, I shall email Mrs Ratcliffe and tell her that we won’t allow this bullying to continue.’

  ‘But it will, the only way it will stop is if I stop being different.’

  Mum closes her eyes for a second before grasping me by the shoulders. When she speaks, her voice is all wobbly. ‘You must promise me you will never do that, Finn. Never stop being you. You’re worth a million of them.’

  I frown. I don’t think that could possibly be true, but I am quite tempted to put myself on eBay to see how much I would sell for. Maybe whoever buys me would have a big garden and I could give the money to Mum to pay for the solicitor’s letters.


  ‘Promise me,’ she says, squeezing my shoulders tighter.

  ‘I promise.’

  Mum pulls me into her and starts crying again.

  *

  I am in the downstairs toilet when Dad gets home. I didn’t plan it that way, it just turned out to be a longer poo than I thought. Neither of them realise it, so I just sit there and listen. It’s a much better place than the landing to hear things and it turns out it’s a bit of luck I am trapped in there because it doesn’t start off like a shouty argument. Just a quiet one with sad voices.

  ‘Finn was punched in the face at school today,’ Mum tells Dad.

  ‘Jesus. Is he OK?’

  Dad sounds worried. I had no idea he would be that worried about me.

  ‘No physical damage. But he’s obviously upset.’

  ‘What did school say?’

  ‘Didn’t even tell me about it. I only found out through Lottie. And when I went to see Mrs Ratcliffe, she tried to brush it off and made some crack about it being like Jeremy Kyle in the school playground.’

  ‘That’s not good.’

  ‘No, maybe you can ask her about it on Monday when you have your meeting with her.’

  ‘You and Finn are supposed to be there too.’

  ‘Yeah. That’s such a great idea. Us having a domestic in front of our son and his head teacher.’

  My poo is finished but the last bit fell quietly into the rest, so I don’t think they heard it. I sit there without moving. I think I would be a good spy. I can sit really quietly when I need to.

  ‘I’m trying to find a way forward, Hannah,’ says Dad.

  ‘No, you’re not. You’re trying to get your own way as usual. And you’re using Finn to try to break me. I got the letter from my solicitor.’