The Story of Us

by Barbara Elsborg

  The door swung open and his father stood there holding the crop. “Get to your feet.”

  Zed pushed himself up.

  “How dare you?” His father gripped the crop so hard, his knuckles turned white. “You not only dye your hair a ridiculous colour, but you sneak off in the night, damage a farmer’s field and leave a disgusting image for everyone to see.”

  And I kissed a boy. You don’t know about that. And I liked it.

  His father slapped his cheek so hard, Zed’s face whipped round and he bit his tongue. A coppery tang filled his mouth.

  “After all I do for you, and you shame me like this,” his father shouted.

  He shoved Zed onto the bed. The first strike had Zed writhing in agony. He curled up, trying to present as small a target as he could but his father hit him everywhere, including his face. Zed fell off the bed as he tried to escape the blows, only to be hauled to his feet for his father to hit him again and again.

  “You disgust me,” his father hissed. “The sight of you disgusts me. You will not leave this house without my express permission.”

  I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. Each time the crop made contact, it was like being struck by lightning. As if the crop wasn’t bad enough, he was kicked, slapped, punched, and thrown around until blood pooled in his mouth and seeped down his chin. There was blood in his eyes and he couldn’t see. Everywhere hurt and he was too weak to even fend off the blows.

  He repeated in his mind—this will stop, this will stop.

  Finally, it did.

  “You are not my son,” his father snarled. “You are not a brother. You are nothing.”

  After his father had gone, Zed managed to get onto his bed but no further. He couldn’t run away because he doubted he’d manage more than a few steps without collapsing. But the moment he was strong enough, he was leaving.

  Chapter Five

  After the police left, Caspian was sent straight to bed with instructions to go to his father’s study the next morning at nine. He was worried about Zed but what could he do? He’d told him to run, tried to take the blame but Zed had stayed at his side. Caspian wished he’d never suggested the crop circle, wished he’d not persuaded Zed to have his hair dyed, but he didn’t wish the kiss hadn’t happened.

  At least he knew now that Zed was into boys too, and the kiss had been magical. It was hard to wipe the smile from his face when he thought about it except the price might be too high. Not for him. He was already being exiled to Siberia. How much more could his father do? But Zed’s father… Oh fuck.

  No one spoke to him at breakfast, not even the Terrible Twins. He managed a slice of toast but that was all. He knocked on the study door as the clock in the hall struck nine.

  “Enter,” his father called.

  Caspian walked in with his back straight, his head up. His father sat behind his desk and Caspian stopped a few feet away.

  “Who’s the boy you were with?”

  “Someone I met from Upper Barton.”

  “Name?”

  “I’m not giving you his name. It was all my idea.”

  “You and he worked together. He has to take responsibility as well. You do realise I can find out his name?”

  “I know but I won’t give it to you.”

  His father nodded. “I admire loyalty though I think it’s misplaced on this occasion.”

  “My idea. My design. Not his fault.”

  “Yet he worked with you.”

  “Because I persuaded him to.”

  “You’re never to see him again.”

  Caspian pressed his lips together.

  “I mean it. You’re grounded until I say otherwise. You will not leave this house without permission. Give me your phone.”

  Caspian put it on the desk.

  “You’ll get this back when I feel you deserve it. You will pay me back out of your allowance for what I have to pay Giles Forman for the damage to his crop. What were you thinking? Well, you weren’t thinking, were you? Same with your hair. I don’t want to even see you again until that ridiculous colour has gone. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you have anything to say?”

  “Sorry.” I’m not.

  “You could try to sound as if you meant it.”

  “Sorry.” I’m really not.

  “Get out of my sight.”

  Caspian fled.

  He didn’t dare leave the house that day. From the way Lachlan was behaving, Caspian suspected his brother had been instructed to keep an eye on him. The twins knew Caspian was in trouble but didn’t know why and kept tormenting him.

  Once Caspian’s hair had been returned to its normal shade, he followed a delicious aroma to the kitchen. Betsy was making biscuits. She tsked when she saw him.

  “Why couldn’t you have made one of those lovely concentric designs?” she asked.

  Caspian cringed. “Have you seen it?”

  “I have. Very impressive. Straight as a die. It’s the talk of both villages according to Doreen in the post office. There’s been a plane up taking photographs. Not sure if they can put something like that in the paper though. Giles Forman is talking about charging people to view it but that won’t work. All you have to do is drive past and look up the hill.”

  “My father’s going to pay him compensation. Then I’ll have to pay my father. I didn’t realise it would damage the crop. I thought it could just be harvested as usual.”

  “Your idea, I take it?”

  “Yes.”

  “So what about your friend?”

  “You know how persuasive I can be.” He pinched a bit of the biscuit dough and Betsy rapped his fingers.

  “I want to go and see Zed, but I’m not allowed to leave the house.”

  “As if that would stop you.”

  She was right. It wouldn’t stop him, but he’d wait until tomorrow when his father was at work. If he made sure he got back before the tutor arrived, no one would know.

  He was perfectly behaved all day, but in bed he reran that kiss and their embrace so many times he ended up spurting all over his stomach.

  The first place Caspian headed for early in the morning was the treehouse, in case Zed had left a message. He found an origami flamingo on the shelf and smiled. So Zed was okay, but when had he left that? Maybe not yesterday. Caspian felt a knot of anxiety tighten in his stomach. He moved the flamingo to the mattress, wrote Zed a note saying he was on his way to see him, in case they missed each other, then headed to Upper Barton.

  After he’d heard Zed give his address to the policeman, Caspian had repeated it in his head until he was sure he could remember it. Middleham Road ran straight through Upper Barton and out the other side. He’d just have to walk until he found Larch Cottage, then make sure Zed’s father wasn’t home before he knocked on the door.

  He found the house on the outskirts of the village. There were no close neighbours and a thick hedge ran along the front. Caspian couldn’t see any cars parked on the drive but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a vehicle in the garage. The moment he left the shelter of the hedge, he’d be seen from the house. While he hesitated, there was a loud creak followed by the hum of a rising garage door which sent him scurrying into bushes on the other side of the road. He ducked out of sight and waited. A guy with a beard pulled out onto the road in a silver BMW and turned left. Zed’s father? Caspian waited a few minutes before he crossed the road and walked up the drive.

  There was no answer when he banged on the door. He lifted the letter box and yelled, “Zed. It’s me. Are you okay?”

  When there was still no answer, Caspian walked around the house. The back was a wall of glass doors. Everything was neat and tidy inside. No pool of blood. He grimaced. No sign of Zed, though Caspian was convinced he was there. He banged on every sheet of glass all the way around the house until he was back at the front door, then pushed open the letter box and yelled, “Zed!”

  “Wait.”

  The voice was faint b
ut unmistakable. Caspian sighed and stood up. When the door opened, he sucked in a breath. “Fucking hell. What…?”

  It was Zed but it wasn’t. He was wearing the same clothes as he had in the field. His hair was still red and his face was too pale. One eye was swollen shut. Every piece of Zed’s skin that Caspian could see was bruised, scratched or marked by dark red lines. His left arm…hung at an odd angle.

  “Your father?” Caspian whispered.

  “Yes.”

  “Your arm looks broken.”

  “It might be. I can’t move it. It really hurts.”

  “Why hasn’t he taken you to hospital?”

  “Why do you think?”

  Caspian sagged. “Shit. I’m sorry. This is all my fault.”

  “No, it’s not. What did your father say?”

  “Told me off. Said I have to pay for the damage, but he didn’t hit me. Jesus, Zed, your father’s nuts. He’s not allowed to do this.”

  “I’m going to run away. Today. Now he’s gone to work. I’ve started to pack my bag. I can’t stay here any longer.”

  Caspian’s heart pounded. “Where are we running to?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “I’m coming with you.”

  Zed let out a deep sigh that Caspian felt in his bones.

  “You don’t need to do that.”

  “I want to. I’ve got money. I can buy us rail tickets. We can get to London. Then we’ll go to a hospital. We can lie about who we are and how old we are. We can be together.”

  Oh no, I’ve made you cry.

  Caspian reached out and touched Zed’s cheek. “I’ll go get my things and my money and I’ll come back. I promise.”

  He ran. He needed to get in and out before the tutor arrived. Caspian thought about retrieving his phone from his father’s study but maybe it was better that he couldn’t be contacted.

  He burst into the house and ran straight into his mother who grabbed his arm and brought him to a halt.

  “Your father told me you’re not allowed out. Where’ve you been?”

  “To see if I’d left my French book in the treehouse. I hadn’t.”

  “Your tutor’s in the dining room.”

  Caspian gasped. “What? It’s not nine yet.”

  “He’s come early to get to know you.”

  “I need…the bathroom. I need to wash.”

  “Hurry up.”

  Caspian bolted up the stairs. Where to fucking start? He grabbed a sports bag from the back of his closet and rammed clothes into it. After a moment’s hesitation, he put Charlie Bear in too. He had about seventy pounds in his money box and he took that. Then he went down the backstairs to the kitchen, intending to leave by the rear door.

  Betsy emerged from the laundry room, looked at him and then at his bag. “What are you up to? Running away?”

  Caspian pressed his lips together.

  She sighed. “How far do you think you’ll get? This isn’t the end of the world. Things will go back to normal. Your father doesn’t hold grudges.”

  “Zed’s been beaten,” he whispered. “His face… There are bruises and marks all over him. His arm’s broken but his father didn’t take him to hospital. He’s gone off to work and left him alone.”

  Her face paled. “His father’s hit him?”

  Caspian nodded. “He’s done it before.”

  “Oh my goodness.”

  “He needs to go to hospital. I’m going to take him.”

  She sighed. “Caspian, you’re just a boy. You can’t handle this.”

  “Yes, I can.”

  “You need to tell your father or your mother. Running away isn’t going to solve anything. You’re only fifteen years old. Where can you go? How can you support yourselves? How can you stay safe?”

  “I have to help him.”

  “You can but not by running away with him.”

  He sagged. “Then what can I do?”

  It was hard to do anything with just one arm. Unfastening his shorts so he could pee took so long he thought he was going to wet himself. And it hurt. Yesterday, he’d seen blood in the toilet bowl but not today. Zed didn’t pack much. For months he’d planned exactly what he wanted to take but now his head ached too much to concentrate on anything. He put in a few items of clothing, his bear, Caspian’s book and all his money.

  He dragged the bag down to the front door, then sat on the stairs to wait, cradling his arm. Zed had no idea how long it would take Caspian to go home, pack and come back, but he guessed no more than an hour. Hopefully less. He didn’t allow himself to feel relief that this would soon be over. Until he and Caspian were in London, he wouldn’t feel safe.

  When Zed heard a car pull up on the drive, his heart rate shot up. He assumed it was his father and he struggled to his feet, grabbed his bag and threw it in the downstairs cloakroom. An action that resulted in him biting back a cry of pain when he jolted his injured arm. But the bell rang, so it wasn’t his father. Maybe Caspian had ordered a taxi to take them to the station. Zed opened the door and blinked when he saw a policeman and a lady in a flowered dress standing next to him.

  “Hvare…chaesh…man? Do I have that right?” the woman asked. “My name’s Susan Reeves. I’m a social worker. This is Constable Garrett. Can we come in?”

  “Is this about the wheat field?” Zed asked.

  “No, it’s about you.” The woman gave him a kind smile and Zed’s world began to crumble.

  “Can we come in?” the policeman asked. “Is your dad home?”

  “No. He’s at work.” Go away. I don’t want to talk to you.

  “What’s happened to you?” the woman asked. “You don’t look very well.”

  “Why are you here?” Zed whispered, his heart cramping in pain.

  She took a step forward. “We’ve had a report that you’ve been beaten, that your arm might be broken.”

  Zed understood then that Caspian wouldn’t be coming, and he wanted the world to end right at that moment. The future Zed had hoped for had been taken from him in an instant. He had to be careful now. If he told the truth, he’d get put into care. Not a foster family because who would want a fourteen-year-old boy, a Muslim who wasn’t, except for the wrong sort of family? His father would be so angry Zed would never feel safe.

  But he wasn’t safe now. “I should call my father.” He tried to close the door but the policeman’s foot was in the way.

  “I think you need to go to hospital, get that arm looked at,” the policeman said. “We’ll take you and contact your father.”

  Zed’s arm hurt. And his ribs. All of him hurt. He didn’t even know if his father intended to let a doctor look at his arm, whether making him wait was part of the punishment. But it hurt so much. “Okay, but I have to do something first.”

  “What?” asked the policeman.

  “There’s a bag in the downstairs cloakroom. It needs to go back into my wardrobe.”

  “I’ll do that.” The woman stepped into the house. “Which is your room?”

  “First on the left up the stairs.”

  Zed knew she was spying but there was nothing to see and hiding the bag was more important. She took the bag up and came back down a few moments later.

  “Running away isn’t the answer,” she said.

  So she’d looked inside, and running was the answer just not right this minute.

  “Do you have a key?” the policeman asked.

  “In my pocket. The door locks when you pull it closed.”

  It hurt getting into the car. Hurt when the woman helped him put on the seatbelt. Hurt when he saw the looks the pair exchanged. She kept talking to him in a quiet, calm voice, telling him not to be frightened, to tell them the truth. Zed knew they were convinced his father had done this and he wasn’t sure how to make them believe otherwise, but maybe the longer he stayed silent the worse it looked.

  “Some boys attacked me,” he whispered.

  “Boys? What boys?” the policeman asked.

  “D
on’t know them.”

  “Describe them.”

  “Four boys. Older than me. It all happened so fast.”

  “You go to Middleton Academy?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “And the boys who attacked you don’t go there?” The policeman glanced at him through the mirror.

  Zed knew they trying to trick him. “I’ve never seen them before.”

  The huff told him he wasn’t believed.

  “Where were you when it happened?” the woman asked.

  “My father grounded me but I sneaked out yesterday. On the way into the village, I was attacked. I lost consciousness and woke to find myself in the bushes. I walked home.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Your father didn’t notice the state you were in?”

  “He was out. When he came back, I was in bed. He didn’t see me. He left this morning before I was up. My friend came this morning and saw me and… I guess he called you.”

  He released a shaky sigh and closed his eyes. It was done. He wouldn’t say anything else. He knew Caspian thought he’d done the right thing in telling the authorities, but he’d made everything worse.

  Zed’s arm was broken. He was given an anaesthetic so it could be reset. When he woke, his arm was encased in blue plaster and his father and brother were at his bedside.

  “Finally, you’re awake.” Tamaz smiled at him. “How are you feeling?”

  “Okay.”

  “The police want to talk to you again. See if you can remember any details about the fucking scum who attacked you.” Tamaz stroked his fingers. “Did you do anything to provoke them?”

  Can’t you guess who did this to me? Maybe he could. Maybe Tamaz was trying to help him or protect their father. “No. I was just walking along the side of the road.”

  “Were they white boys?” his father asked.

  “I don’t know.” Anger surged at the thought of his father hijacking the lie to make it a racist thing.

  “Maybe it would be a good idea if Zed came to live with me for a while. You work such long hours, Bâbâ. One of the guys who’s sharing the house won’t be coming until mid-August, so Zed could have his room.”