On Tuesday I waited at the gates for Guy. Simon found me first.
‘Come on, Luke. We’ve got some bangers – crow-scarers. They’re awesome. Pete’s gonna set them off on the field. We can still make it.’ He ran off, looking back to check I’d followed. I remained where I was. He came back looking confused.
‘You OK, mate?’
‘Yeah, fine. Just waiting for someone.’
‘But everyone’s over on the field.’ Simon looked genuinely confused. ‘You’ve gotta come.’
‘Nah, I’m all right. See you later, yeah?’
‘OK, suit yourself then.’
‘Yeah. I will,’ I said, more adamantly than might have been required.
‘Whatever. It’s your loss, mate.’ Simon actually pouted as he spoke and I realised for the first time how ridiculous he sounded. I was sick of people like him, Connor and Pete telling me what to do and making me feel bad if I didn’t join in with their stupid pranks. The more I thought about it, the more determined I became. I’d made my choice and now I had to deal with any consequences. I have to admit I had many second, third, and fourth thoughts about it, but I wanted to see where my chosen new path would take me.
Simon gave a mocking sneer, with a sound like escaping gas, shook his head, and ran off without looking back this time.
I nearly gave up waiting as the bell had gone and I’d be marked late on the register, but just as I considered leaving, Guy arrived. He looked terrible – lank, greasy hair; scruffy drainpipe black jeans; a grubby untucked shirt; and a half-mast tie with the thin end on the outside.
‘How’s the finger?’
I held it up. ‘Could be worse.’
‘You need to drink a special tea of comfrey root and mouse ear,’ Guy said, as if it sounded perfectly normal.
‘I’m not swallowing some manky mouse’s ear. What are you, a witch?’
Guy laughed. ‘No, not ear of mouse – it’s not a magic spell. Mousear, the flower – also known as chickweed.’
‘Yeah, I’ll just pop to the supermarket and get some of that then.’ I laughed, but not in a mean way. Guy didn’t look offended.
‘I could sort it out for you later. Meet me at the roundabout after school.’
‘Sure.’
We walked together openly across the playground, but I was aware of faces turned towards us, people pointing and sniggering. Then, as we entered the front doors of the main school entrance, I suddenly became aware of Mr Saddler’s bellowing behind us.
‘Get in there! All of you! You absolute idiots! You’ve really got it coming to you this time!’
At first I thought he meant us two for being late, but as I spun round I saw Saddler pushing half a dozen boys with fallen faces, including Simon, Connor, and Pete. Guy and I stood to one side as they stumbled past us, ushered menacingly by Saddler. Simon glared at me and pulled a face on seeing who I was with. He’d enough time to look me up and down before being shoved onwards and catching an earful from the rampaging Deputy Head.
Just behind Simon came Connor, who gave me a dirty look followed by the universal gesture for ‘I’m watching you’, pointing two fingers at his eyes, then one at mine. Even Saddler did a double take, raising one eyebrow as he clocked who I was standing with.
It turned out to be an odd day. Simon wasn’t in my lessons, having been, I assumed, excluded with the others for their possession and letting off of bangers within the school grounds. It had been pretty stupid of them, even by their dumb standards. Part of me felt glad I hadn’t got caught up in that escapade, especially with my own recent poor record. It would have been bye-bye school and hello very angry parents who’d probably keep me at home and teach me themselves. I’d be grounded forever.
At break time I sought out Guy, who was sitting with Cheryl, Taylor, and the trendy girls. He looked pleased to see me, and even relieved when I sat down next to him. This became a little awkward, as Cheryl and the girls all assumed Guy was gay – so me being friends with him was pretty much me announcing that I batted for the other team, at least in their eyes.
During lunch I sat alone to eat until joined by Cheryl, Taylor, and Guy.
‘Shove up fatso,’ I heard Cheryl say. She bumped me over with her hips and I laughed. As we sat together I felt Guy staring at me intently and wished he could have more self-awareness. I chose to ignore him and concentrate on chatting with the girls, who surprised me with just how interesting they were. In fact Cheryl liked talking about football and films, which got us off to a good start. We nattered together for quite a while.
‘Ooh, look at us. Like a couple of old women, we are.’ She gave me a smile which dimpled her cheeks. I wanted to brush my finger against one of them to feel how soft it was. Guy tried to join in our conversation but didn’t have any reference points for the two main topics, so he quickly got left out again. Cheryl kept bringing Taylor in for her own safety – seeing as I was still a relatively unknown factor to her. The whole experience of talking to Cheryl was rather wonderful. I never knew girls could be quite so interesting and fun.
Chapter Twenty
Walking home I couldn’t help thinking about Cheryl – how she’d pressed her fingertips onto my arm, and even once on my chest, when I made her laugh. But best of all had been seeing the bright pink of her bra through her white blouse. I could only hope my gawping hadn’t been too obvious; I’d tried my best to do it surreptitiously, making sure I looked into her eyes when she faced me.
I walked in something of a reverie. In fact, as Coney Island roundabout came into sight I came to with a start, as I couldn’t for the life of me remember most of the journey; like I’d been teleported straight there.
By now, finding my way quickly to the centre had become second nature. A couple of rabbits scampered away as I crept through the hole in the undergrowth and into the little hollow. No Guy – much to my disappointment.
Over and above the traffic I heard a snap of twigs and what might have been a muffled cough. I peered through the brambles in all directions but could see no obvious movement.
‘Up here, Luke.’
Way above me, sat there on the branches of a silver birch tree – one of many that grew in this mini-jungle – I could see Guy. Of course, he was naked, which meant he’d just transformed into human shape. I waved and shook my head in amusement as he nimbly sprung down, catching hold of the branch so his legs swung downwards, right over my head. It was still a long way down for him – about the height of an average house – and yet I watched him let go and plummet to the floor right beside me. He landed like a wild creature on all fours and promptly stood up as if this was completely normal, then held his face right up to mine and grinned. I couldn’t help but laugh – things were never boring with Guy.
‘Oh, man,’ I said, still tittering, ‘please put some clothes on.’
‘Why? Does my natural physical being offend you?’
‘Well, yes actually, now you come to mention it.’ I spoke with a half-serious tone.
‘But this is how I was born – how nature intended.’ He wandered away and then posed in all his glory. ‘It makes me feel more alive. I’m closer to nature like this without man-made garments. They only act like barriers to our real selves. We’re animals too, and yet we separate ourselves from our true heritage.’
I looked away. ‘Let’s just say it’s put me off cocktail sausages for life.’
‘Do you find it offensive? You find your own nakedness offensive? Have people become so divorced from their own nature that they find their true form offensive?’
‘I think it’s a bit more complicated than that. It’s more to do with sex and being decent, I think. Maybe I’ll tell you about the birds and bees some time. Look, have you got something to wear? Please tell me you have, it’ll make things easier for me.’
‘Sure. I keep a bag of old clothes down here.’
He disappeared for a few moments and returned with a pair of khaki shorts in his hand. He pulled them over his feet and got them
to half-mast when he suddenly stopped still and became acutely alert like a hunting dog; his head twisted around so he was practically looking directly behind himself. Then he tipped his head back and sniffed the air, swivelling his head until he looked right over my shoulder. Slowly, a finger came up to his lips. I froze. He suddenly pulled his shorts up and buttoned them as he nudged past me, diving into the thickets.
Shaking myself back into full consciousness, I followed his disappearing back, knowing I’d never be able to move through the vegetation as quickly as he did. Soon I lost sight of him, then heard an angry voice and what sounded like a scuffle between two people.
Someone else had been here.
I shoved through the thorns and whippy branches, feeling myself getting scratched on face and arms, and tried to follow the sound. I couldn’t see Guy until I felt a hand on my back. It made me jump with terror.
‘He’s gone.’
I turned and felt relieved to see Guy before me.
‘Who?’ Then I noticed he was holding his bottom lip. He took his hand away and looked at the red blob on his fingertip. His lip was bloody and already swollen.
‘Simon. I caught him, but he whacked me. Hard. Then he ran off like a coward.’
‘Simon? What was he doing here?’ I couldn’t help wondering what he’d seen or why he’d come. Presumably he’d followed me. Guy had done enough to see him off, but had got hurt in the process. It occurred to me that this secret place was now blown. It was no longer a place to hide.
‘You’re hurt,’ I said, stepping closer to take a better look at the damage.
‘Ah, it’s nothing,’ he said with a casual wave. ‘There’s yarrow growing nearby. It helps to stop bleeding.’ He turned and sidled through some gorse and beyond another silver birch and came back with some yellow flowers, whose stems he crushed and rubbed roughly over his lip. ‘Now then,’ he continued, completely undaunted. ‘I got those ingredients together to make you that infusion to help heal your finger.’
‘How did you find them?’
‘I flew.’
No more explanation was offered or required.
‘I’ve got some water,’ Guy added, ‘and the herbs. Just need to boil up the brew and we’re done.’
Visions of Guy rubbing dry sticks together and making a primitive, blazing fire – the real danger of doing so didn’t occur to me at first – were soon ruined as Guy heaved a primus camping stove, matches, and a bottle of bought spring water into the clearing. He even had a tin mug like soldiers use. In it was a small collection of flowers and twigs.
‘What were these plants called again?’ I asked, bemused with this slightly odd little ritual.
‘Mousear and comfrey.’
The cup contained a couple of white flowers with thin petals and at least five centimetres of stem with numerous squishy leaves. Then I noticed that what I thought had been twigs were actually the reddish brown spindly roots of a plant – still a little dirty – thin and twisted like elongated talons.
Guy filled the cup three-quarters full with bottled water and placed it on the hob, which sparked into a blue flame when he triggered the dial. We watched the cup in silence as its already tarnished outside went from white to red and then a whole oil-slick of colours. Eventually we heard the water boil and the flowers and roots began to shift around in the bubbling, rising liquid. Guy turned it down and let it simmer for a while, stirring it with a birch twig and smelling it at intervals. Once the infusion had turned vaguely yellow, he twisted the flame off and lifted the cup. Using the twig he agitated it for a while longer, before hooking out and flicking away the various plants, one by one. He tasted it first.
‘A little bitter, but I’ve tasted worse.’
‘Yeah, I can believe you have,’ I replied with a chuckle. ‘I’m used to normal food and drink, though.’
He passed the cup over and I leaned forward to take the cup in both hands.
It hadn’t occurred to me that the cup would be scalding hot. I tried to quickly take the handle between my thumb and two fingers, but the handle felt just as unbearable. I placed it on the ground, concerned about it tipping over on the uneven floor, shaking both hands in pain.
‘Argh! Bollocks! That’s hot!’ I yelped. ‘I think it’s melted my fingertips.’ I examined them closely and wiggled them to check they still worked.
‘You can become a master thief now,’ Guy said with a smirk. ‘No need to wear gloves.’
So he did have a sense of humour.
‘Don’t be a wimp,’ Guy continued. ‘The tea is probably cooler than the cup.’
No it wasn’t.
I stretched my sleeve over my hand and lifted the cup gingerly to my lips. The steam wisped hotly over my lips, which I moistened lightly. I gripped the rim of the cup with my teeth, curling back my lips like a snarling wolf, and took a little sip.
Firstly, it tasted absolutely disgusting, nearly making me retch as its smell filled my nostrils and throat. Then its acid touch blistered my tongue and palate. In the panic of the next few seconds I chose not to spit it out – and that meant the burning sensation continued down into my gullet.
I had to open my mouth wide and inhale deeply, enjoying the relief of cool air filling my throat. Strange gargling noises forced me to look up and see Guy muffling his desire to laugh at me.
‘Pass it here.’ He stretched out to take the cup from me. ‘I need some too, but I’ll leave more than half for you to enjoy. Don’t let it cool down too much as the effect will wear off.’
‘Right,’ I said, my mouth still agape. It hurt too much to touch my tongue on anything, and the roof of my mouth felt like it had been ripped to shreds. My tongue remained shrivelled and numb. ‘Hey! You’d make a great doctor,’ I said, trying to smile. ‘Not so sure about your bedside manner, though. Might need a little work.’
I did finish the disgusting tea, and felt certain the next morning that it had worked. I certainly slept well.
School, however, was hideous. Easily the worst day of my life.
Chapter Twenty-one
I realised something was up when a group of year sevens walked past looking at me, then talking secretively and collapsing into fits of laughter. That brought others into play and I could see straight away that I had become the centre of attention, leaving me to wonder if my zip was undone, or whether I had something on my face or bird poo on my blazer.
A crowd from the year above me came past.
‘Watch out, boys,’ one of the tarty girls shouted. ‘Keep your backs to the wall.’
‘Yeah,’ a floppy-haired boy added, ‘make sure you don’t drop anything.’
‘Look out for the batty boy!’ cried out a boy with a grey hoodie under his blazer, ‘or he’s gonna take you from behind!’
This was followed by a series of groans and exclamations of disgust.
The floppy-haired boy walked straight up to me and looked at me as if I was a freshly laid dog turd. ‘So you’re the little chutney-ferret, are you?’ He stepped back and stared at me. ‘So where’s your boyfriend, then? Is he lost in a place where the sun don’t shine?’
The group had grown and everyone listening fell about into all degrees of amusement, ranging from mild tittering to complete hilarity.
It was clear what they accused me of, and around a thousand of them were happy to see me as the target for all their deluded anger and hatred.
But why now? What was different today?
I moved away, realising there was nothing I could do against so many. Red-cheeked and holding back tears, I marched towards the front office, hoping to find a teacher to hide behind. Perhaps I could convince the school nurse I was ill and should be sent home. With head down I scampered past the front desk and found my way to the staff toilets. The disabled loo was vacant so I went in and locked the door.
All I could think to do was slump down with my back to the door, facing the porcelain toilet bowl. Tears flowed and my mind spun in confusion and despair, until after what must have
been at least half an hour I struggled to my feet, unlatched the door, and poked my head around. It seemed spookily quiet for a school, although I guessed everyone was presently in lessons. I sneaked back in front of the reception desk again, hoping to get past to go straight back home, when I heard a booming voice.
‘Luke!’
I froze without turning around.
‘Luke?’ The voice was softer this time and rising at the end in a question. I slowly gave myself up to my fate.
The lady at the desk stated my full name and I nodded. She picked up the phone and spoke softly into it.
Almost immediately, Saddler appeared. I could only groan inwardly – caught bunking after being caught in possession of a weapon … permanent exclusion for me then.
‘Ah, Luke. There you are. We were worried.’ Saddler put a hand on my shoulder and spoke in a comforting tone. ‘We know. It’s OK. Now I think I understand all that funny business from before. It must have been very hard for you, but I guess it feels good now, eh? To get it all out in the open. A big moment? That’s it. Brave lad, I say.’
‘Sorry?’
‘No, don’t apologise. Please never apologise. The problem is ours you see, not yours. It must be horrible to be so misunderstood by so many. It’s important to me and to the school that we offer you all the support and help we can. Not that you need help – that’s not what I mean at all. Sorry. I’m gabbling now. You must think me a complete fool.’
It seemed to me that I was better off staying silent as I really had no idea what he was blathering on about – yet he seemed to be being kind to me and offering me some hope.
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