Pica

by Jeff Gardiner

  ‘Would it help to speak to someone? Not me, of course, but someone more neutral who is trained to listen? The governors recently employed a new person to be what we call a “Pastoral Intervention Officer”. She’s here to listen and give advice. She’s not a teacher at all. It’s more one-to-one, do you see? No pressure but if you were keen then I could probably sort something out straight away and you could miss your first lesson … if that sounds at all suitable to you, of course.’

  This was certainly one of the most bizarre conversations I’d ever been involved in. Saddler seemed to be uneasy about something and his tone gave the impression that he couldn’t do enough to help me. Had my dad threatened to sue him or something? As he’d mentioned something about missing my first lesson I nodded and mumbled. ‘Sure. Yeah. That’d be great.’

  ‘Excellent. Excellent. Come this way.’

  He led me past the Head’s office and through a large office with lots of clerical staff busily tapping away at computers, before pulling open a door on the other side of the room which led to a corridor leading up to a staircase. At the side and beneath the stairs was a little white door, bearing a legend scribbled in blue felt-tip: Pastoral Intervention Officer.

  So it had come to this. They thought I was mad and were sending me to the shrink who worked in the cupboard under the stairs. What symptoms had I shown to be in need of psychiatric help, I wondered. I suppose having a gun might count as criminal and psychotic behaviour, so I guess I deserved all that came my way.

  Saddler knocked and waited for a lady’s voice to shout, ‘Enter!’ before ushering me inside.

  ‘Sapphy, this is Luke … you know … the one I mentioned earlier.’

  ‘Yes, yes, of course. Come in. Thank you.’

  Then Saddler left me with a woman in her fifties that I’d never met before in my life.

  ‘I’m Miss Mire, but you can call me Sapphy.’ She stood up and pointed to the chair by the window. She waited for me to sit down before starting her spiel. ‘So, you’re the very brave little boy who should be given a medal, then?’

  I tried not to react, but couldn’t help pulling a slightly quizzical expression.

  ‘You’ll find it very difficult at first, but give it time and people will soon get used to things and you’ll find everything will settle down. You see, prejudice is like that. It’s not the fault of the victim – the real problem is with the bully. Ignorance is what it is. Homophobia is rife in this school – as in any other – but people need to be re-educated.’

  A penny dropped but I let her continue as I felt my heart sink deeper into an eternally black abyss.

  ‘It’s when brave people like you speak out and are honest that the rest of us need to shift our positions and reconfigure our scopes when we view the world.’

  Even the teachers thought I was gay! My first thought then was whether they had spoken to my parents about this.

  ‘Two of my best friends are … a same-sex couple – married in a civil partnership – and they’re very happy. They’ve adopted a child and lead a very fulfilled life –’

  ‘Sorry,’ I interrupted. ‘Can I just say something?’

  ‘Of course you can, Luke. And anything you say here is completely confidential. Feel free to open up and express your deepest feelings.’

  ‘OK then. I’m not gay.’

  Sapphy nodded earnestly, rubbing her tightly pursed lips. Then she clicked a silver pen and began scribbling something on her pad of paper.

  ‘Uh-huh. Classic denial. Understandable in the circumstances. Are you being bullied?’ She put down the pen and gave what she probably considered to be a chummy, sympathetic smile. ‘You know, don’t you, that I’m not a teacher. There’s no hidden agenda here. I just want you to be honest, to be yourself so that you can be strong and become the whole beautiful individual soul that you were born to become.’

  ‘Yeah, but I’m not gay,’ I insisted.

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with being gay. It’s natural and wonderful and perfectly normal. It’s just the unfortunate prejudice that we’re fighting here and together we can combat this heinous form of discrimination and just allow people to be who they were always destined to be.’

  ‘Yeah, and I agree with all that.’ My voice got a little tense and I knew this would possibly count against me. ‘It’s fine. I have no problem with someone being homosexual. Fine. No problem. It’s just that … I’m not.’

  ‘Sometimes, Luke, we have to step back a bit – metaphorically – and allow ourselves to just … be.’ She beamed smugly. ‘We must give room to our true selves so that we can form and grow, away from the narrow confines of society. We all have to throw off the shackles of our brainwashing socialisation and find our true, honest persona deep beneath the surface. Perhaps it’s time that you delved deeper into yourself, Luke, to discover who is there under the surface of your nurtured ego, to find the embryo of your truly natural id. Then when you discover your new self, make friends, and even fall in love with the person that you really, truly are.’

  I could see I wasn’t getting anywhere so I stood up abruptly.

  ‘Well, thanks for the chat then. You’ve certainly given me lots to think about today.’

  Sapphy stood up, looking lost – as if she’d failed to get me to open up and ‘find myself’.

  ‘These things take time. I understand. You have lots of soul-searching to do. But remember, you’re not alone. I’ll book you in again for tomorrow at 10.30 in the morning. How does that sound?’

  I hurried out of the room and found the nearest exit to the outside world.

  Just my luck – it was break time and as soon as I hit the playground tarmac I had hordes of people running up to me. One sweet little boy got to me first and shook my hand, adding, ‘I think you’re great,’ to which I didn’t know how to respond. Everyone else made rude gestures, calling me ‘batty-boy’ or ‘arse bandit’. I’m ashamed to say I ran. Pushing through the gathering crowd I took flight, not wanting to be seen welling up again. I put my head down and sprinted away from them all – through the staff car park and out the front gate.

  I went home rather than going to Coney Island. I wanted to be alone, and I wasn’t sure if going to that place was a good idea any more. Frisky jumped on my lap and I welcomed the company.

  ‘You don’t judge people, do you? You cats just accept us exactly as we are … as long as you get some food, eh?’

  He purred, trod his claws into my leg and eventually settled down.

  As I sat there my mobile signalled a text coming in. It was from Cheryl.

  ‘u OK duck. Wanna talk?’

  It seemed a good offer.

  ‘OK cheers’

  Then my ringtone sounded and Cheryl’s voice sang out of my phone. Hearing her voice and laugh lifted my spirits no end.

  ‘I heard what happened, my darlin’ and I just want to give you a big hug.’

  I wished she was sat on the sofa next to me – the thought of pressing myself against her chest made me feel excitedly wobbly. The depression soon allayed those feelings, though.

  ‘Thanks, Cheryl. I might take you up on that offer next time we meet.’

  ‘Oh, I’ll hug you anytime. You poor little thing.’

  I found her pouting sympathy oddly comforting, even though I knew I should be offended by her patronising tone. I wanted nothing more at that moment than to be mothered by Cheryl, and began to imagine what it would be like to feel my arms around her; her long hair caressing my face as she clung desperately to my shoulders. The thought of our bodies touching and legs entwining was too delicious to contemplate.

  ‘Are you at school now?’ I asked, hoping she’d offer to bunk her next lesson and come over.

  ‘Yeah, it’s lunchtime innit.’ No offer was forthcoming, much to my disappointment.

  ‘Do you know what’s going on? What’s happened?’

  ‘It’s all over the school about you and Guy,’ she said tonelessly. Then I heard her talk to someone away fro
m her phone. ‘Look gotta go now. I’ll send you the wotsit. Ciao, my love. Take care now.’

  Wotsit? Strange ending to the conversation. I didn’t feel I really understood any better what was going on.

  I lowered my phone and gazed out the window, trying to recall how Cheryl looked in her tight blouse and short skirt. This was interrupted by the sound of another text arriving. From Cheryl, it had a media attachment but no written message to explain. I clicked on the tiny picture and waited for the photo to emerge from the black screen.

  At first it appeared out of focus – then two fuzzy figures cleared from the initial blur. One was me looking at someone else. While my face was clearly visible, the other figure was only seen from behind, but something significant about him filled me with both foreboding horror and a fearful understanding. It was Guy, and he stood before me completely naked. His scruffy, lank hair gave him away, while his buttocks, hairy legs, and smooth white back stood out in perfect focus. His hands were out of shot and held in front of him, implying some lewd gesture and my eyes could easily be conceived as staring straight at his groin.

  I stood up suddenly, forcing Frisky to leap off me, leaving him on the carpet looking up at me, offended.

  This photo explained everything.

  It meant I could never go back to school; perhaps never leave my house again.

  I looked at the picture one more time, groaned audibly, and pushed delete. I wondered how many people had seen this picture. Going by the reactions of hundreds of people who didn’t even know me, I guessed the whole school had seen it. There was just no knowing how many Twitter, Facebook, Tumblr, or Google Plus accounts had pinged or been retweeted, shared, forwarded, tagged, or posted up.

  It still didn’t explain how my teachers had found out, though.

  The only thing keeping me from jumping off the roof was the thought of Cheryl clasping me tightly to her bosom. She may well think me gay but if it meant I could be tactile with her then it seemed a sacrifice I’d be willing to make. Perhaps once I’d gained her trust I could then convince her of the truth. At the moment she and Guy were all I had, as I couldn’t exactly explain this to Dad – he’d disown me.

  Simon. It was my so-called best friend who’d done this to me.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  I bunked off school the next day and nothing happened to me at home. It seemed that my parents knew nothing of this latest episode, and that school were too scared to question me, possibly for fear of being considered homophobic and intolerant. So just like Guy was left alone due to being a school-refuser, and with nobody really knowing how to tackle the problem, I was given time and space in order for the school to seem sympathetic to my plight. Which suited me. For now.

  I took the rest of the week off and lied to my parents about homework and my progress in general.

  Guy found me at home. I refused to go to Coney Island, which he assured me was fine, but I preferred not to take the risk. Simon, Pete, and Connor were still excluded and on the prowl. Guy didn’t seem to really understand the problem. I tried to explain it simply.

  ‘What, they think you and me … do that? Together?’

  ‘Yup,’ I replied.

  Guy’s facial expression showed that he couldn’t really comprehend the whole deal about sexuality. He understood mating for breeding purposes – I think – but the human emotion of lust wasn’t something he appeared to fully understand. When I spoke of my emergent feelings for Cheryl he looked blankly at me.

  Further explanation was wasted on him.

  ‘They have a picture of you naked. I’m standing next to you.’

  ‘So?’ He genuinely couldn’t figure out the problem.

  ‘So I’m getting bullied because they think you and I are … well … having it off.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Bonking.’

  ‘What, you mean –?’

  ‘Yes … engaging in sexual intercourse.’

  ‘Why do they think that?’

  It just didn’t compute for him. You had to admire his complete innocence. If only there was more of it in the world. I’d have given him a hug if I hadn’t been so self-conscious and scared of any misunderstanding.

  ‘I need your help, Luke,’ Guy said with an edge to his voice. I could see that my huge dilemma meant nothing to him – even though he was involved.

  ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘I’ve run away.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Well, school have been phoning up every day, and now Celia and Ernest are being pushed by some official man to get me into school. This man – some kind of officer – keeps coming around and asking to see me. At first Celia and Ernest were very supportive and shielded me a bit, but the other day they told me they’d lost patience. I haven’t been so friendly with them recently.’

  ‘They’re probably wondering where the hell you are most of the time.’ I tried to imagine them finding his bed empty at night and getting worried about him.

  ‘Then the officer man spoke to me and told me the authorities were going to take it to the next stage. Basically, I have to go to school. But I just can’t, Luke. It’s so awful and depressing.’

  ‘And I hate to say it – things are about to get even worse for you there. And for me. Take my word for it.’

  Guy stared at me expressionlessly. ‘Just this evening, Celia and Ernest sat me down and told me they can no longer cope with me. So I’ll go back into care and get sent away somewhere else – or end up in some sort of prison like last time.’

  ‘Hmm, blimey, mate. You’re right up that old metaphorical creek, aren’t you?’

  ‘Huh?’ Guy’s face screwed up into a look of confusion.

  ‘So you’ve run away? What are you planning to do from here?’

  ‘I don’t know. That’s why I need your help.’

  ‘Well, you’ve certainly got the ideal disguise for escaping capture. I don’t think they’ll be looking for a magpie, do you?’

  ‘But I can’t stay as Pica forever.’

  ‘Pica?’

  ‘My numen. Pica pica. Magpie.’ He said it in a tone that made me feel stupid for not understanding this simple idea. I realised it had to be the Latin name.

  ‘What, you can’t just become the magpie and wait for it all to die down?’

  ‘No. I can only become my numen for a few hours at a time. And when I am Pica there is always the danger of being killed by a predator … or shot by kids with airguns. Life is so much more precarious for wildlife than it is for humans.’

  ‘But you could fly somewhere safe where nobody would find you.’

  ‘Where? I’m sick of running. It’s what I’ve done all my life. I can’t take anything with me – I’ll have no money or clothes.’ He looked uncomfortable, fiddling with his shirt button. ‘And you’re the first person to really accept me for who I am. That’s why I’ve trusted you.’

  I felt bowled over by this confession and took it as the compliment it was clearly intended to be.

  ‘OK. Then you’ll have to accept that you need to go to school and live in a house with adults to look after you. I’m afraid that’s what happens when you’re a human child.’ I said this warily unsure if Guy really was human or not.

  He nodded, as if considering it for the first time. ‘But school doesn’t let me just be me. It’s always trying to make me conform – so I have to be exactly like everyone else, which I’m not.’

  ‘Ain’t that the truth, bro,’ I said, half to myself. Both parts of what he said were spot on. ‘But sometimes we have to accept that we can’t just do whatever we like.’

  ‘But why do I have to be the same as everyone else? It seems so harsh. As if I’m not allowed to be me at all.’

  ‘Yes, but most people are not like you, that’s the problem. The rest of us have to accept that we need a job to make money to lead even a half-decent life. You’re different, though. I can’t do the amazing things you do.’ I shrugged as if I couldn’t explain it any other way.

>   ‘But you can.’

  I flashed him a puzzled expression.

  ‘You can do the things I do. You’re just like most people who don’t realise the full potential that exists within yourself.’

  ‘Sorry, hang on a minute. No. I can’t turn into a magpie. Neither can I fly. Or get animals to trust me and let me hold them like you do.’

  ‘No, but you could.’ Guy kept his piercing gaze on me. I stared back as if playing the blinking game. He continued undaunted, ‘Everyone can. Most people have just forgotten how.’

  This was becoming a little odd now.

  ‘How can we forget if we didn’t even know we could?’

  ‘Your ancestors knew.’ Guy often gave simple answers like that, assuming it all made sense to everyone afterwards.

  ‘You spoke before about magic powers –’

  ‘Not magic – just natural powers. Humans need to understand their place in the natural world. They are not the masters of the planet – just another species of creature within a very complex web. Once you accept your true nature you begin to see the world as it really is. I don’t have antigravity power, but I do understand the rhythm and patterns of winds and thermals which can be manipulated and used to my advantage. It takes training.’

  ‘It probably helps being half-magpie.’

  Guy smiled. ‘When I’m Pica I have wings. When I’m Guy I don’t.’

  ‘So who taught you all this stuff?’

  ‘My mother.’ His sad tone reminded me of her illness. I thought it better not to dwell on that subject.

  ‘And the shapeshifting?’

  ‘That’s the best part. Humans have something no other creature possesses – a soul. A spirit. But we can share them with our fellow creatures. Your numen is your spirit animal. You have to find your own. Mine is Pica – the magpie.’

  ‘So are you saying that anyone can do this?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I have a … numen then? A spirit animal of my own that I could sometimes turn into?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So what’s mine then?’