Willy silently cursed the make-up. He met the older boy’s malicious gaze and said, “Just leave me alone Scranton. And don’t call me names.”
“Get knotted, yer twerp! I’ll call ya what I like,” Scranton snarled. He took a pace closer and raised his fists. Willy put down his apple and stood up, sick at heart. “I’m not going to start a fight with you. Leave me alone!” he said as firmly as he could manage. But he knew he sounded weak and that there was a betraying quaver in his voice.
“Gutless queer!” Scranton taunted. He pushed at Willy’s chest. Willy almost tripped backwards over the seat. Only Stick’s quick grab saved him. Willy regained his balance and put up his bandaged hands to defend himself.
At that moment other boys intervened: Graham, Peter and Stephen. They crowded around Scranton.
Graham raised his clenched fists and growled, “Bugger off Scranton, you bully. If you want a fight pick on me, not on someone smaller than yourself.”
“Or me. My hands aren’t bandaged,” Peter added.
Scranton put up his hands and stepped back a pace. “OK, OK! I just came to remind this creep to keep away from my girl.”
Graham nodded grimly. “You’ve done that. Now get.”
Scranton scowled but turned away. He was a few centimetres taller than Graham but showed no enthusiasm for a fight. He walked a few paces then jeered: “She wouldn’t want him anyway. She likes real men, not transvestite fairies with painted eyebrows.”
This brought mocking laughter from some of Scranton’s jackals who had been keeping their distance. Willy clenched his hands so hard he almost cried out with the pain. With an effort he kept his face neutral. Scranton walked off, calling more taunts and laughing loudly.
Stick looked at him anxiously. “You OK Willy?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Willy replied. He slumped down on the seat and took a deep breath. After a minute he looked up at the three Year 10s and said, “Thanks.”
“That’s alright,” Graham replied with a grin.
Stephen pointed to Willy’s bandaged hands. “Are your hands burnt badly?” he asked.
“Not really. They are still sore,” Willy replied. ‘But not as sore as my feelings,’ he thought. He resumed munching on his apple, brooding over the fact that someone must have told Scranton about his eyebrows. As far as he knew the only people who knew about them were Stephen, Stick, Noddy and Marjorie. Surely none of them would have done it? The thought made him feel sick in the stomach. ‘Have I got another false friend who is a secret enemy?’ he wondered, remembering the awful trouble the previous year over the model planes.
It soon became evident that Scranton was broadcasting the news, with suitable embellishments, as groups of students began to wander past, giggling and peering at him. Some called comments or taunts:- queer, queen, fairy, faggot, poof- he suffered them all. He felt humiliated and sick. In an effort to end the situation he took out his handkerchief and wiped his eyebrows. ‘I hate this. I’m leaving,’ he decided.
He stood up and pushed his way roughly through a group of snickering Year 8 boys.
Stick followed him. “What you doing?”
“Going home,” Willy replied as he found his port. He was on the edge of tears and could not remember a time when he had ever felt so wretched.
At that moment the bell went. Willy turned to leave but found himself facing his next teacher. ‘Blast! He has seen me. My absence will be noted,’ he told himself. ‘Should I say I feel sick?’ he wondered. Miserably Willy reversed his direction and dragged himself reluctantly to class.
There it was worse. Willy was acutely aware that by now everyone knew about the make-up and were all looking at him. He looked up and met Barbara’s eyes. She looked hastily away. ‘Was that been pity or contempt in her gaze?’ he wondered anxiously.
‘.. likes real men!’ Willy thought. The implications hurt so much he nearly choked. Black thoughts of suicide crossed his distressed mind.
CHAPTER 10
UGLY RUMOURS
Worse was to come. At lunch time Willy sat with Stick and Noddy eating his salad sandwiches (his mother again!). By then he had wiped off all the make-up but still suffered a few curious glances and taunts. Donovan, another air cadet in their class, came and joined them. He began talking to Noddy. At first Willy paid little attention to the conversation but when Donovan mentioned Barbara he was all ears.
“Yeah,” Donovan said. “I heard that Scranton took her out on Saturday night and gave her a good screwing. He reckons he would have done her twice only the cops came along and they had to run for it.”
Willy felt a surging and pounding in his ears. A sharp pain stabbed through his chest. He realized he had been holding his breath. What agony! It couldn’t be true! Surely Barbara wouldn’t? Not with Scranton- not with anyone; well, not on a first date?
Donovan went on: “She’s a real slut. Scranton reckons she was all over him from the moment he picked her up. She was so hot she couldn’t wait.”
Willy’s ears burned and his heart quietly broke. He didn’t want to hear anymore but could not make himself get up and leave. It was obvious none of the others knew of his infatuation with Barbara. ‘No! Not infatuation- Love. It isn’t just a crush!’ he told himself.
Anyway, how did Donovan know all this? Had he seen them? Or had he been told? And if so by who? Had Scranton been boasting? Or was it all a vicious lie?
Willy didn’t dare ask. All he could do was sit and listen in silent misery as the others discussed Barbara’s physical attributes and what she might be like for sex.
Donovan snickered and said, “I might ask her for a bit myself.”
“No chance,” Stick replied. “You’d have to compete with all those Year 12s.”
That made Willy pick his ears up. “What Year Twelves?” he asked, feigning disinterest.
Stick shrugged. “She’s always flirting with the Year Twelve boys down at the oval,” he replied.
Willy felt ill. The jealousy and doubt swirled in his stomach. ‘What chance do I have?’ he asked himself.
Stick then increased his distress by saying, “She must be a real goer. I wonder if she’d let me.”
“Depends how much you paid her,” Noddy put in.
Donovan shook his head. “Nah! She’s not a prostitute- or at least I haven’t heard she is. Anyway, it wouldn’t be worth it. A man might catch something. Besides, if Scranton found out he’d grind you to pulp. He’s a mean bastard.”
Willy had another sickening thought. Had Scranton put Donovan up to this; getting him to tell the story so that Willy would hear it? Was he that devious? Willy tried to tell himself that Scranton wasn’t that smart but he had been hurt that way before and a stomach-gripping doubt remained.
When he went to class after lunch Willy could not remember a more unhappy and depressing time in his whole life. First Uncle Ted, then Barbara saying ‘No’, next Scranton beating him and burning his airship; and now this. He sat in class and stared at Barbara with hungry, miserable eyes. Jealousy and doubt made him writhe internally so that he thought he might throw up.
‘I wish I was dead!’ he decided.
That night he wept into his pillow for a long time.
The next day was nearly as bad. Willy said nothing to his parents about the events of the previous day but he firmly resisted his mother’s offer of helping once more to hide his lack of eyebrows. He stared hard in the mirror and consoled himself with the notion that they were re-growing, although really they were just fuzzy stubble a millimetre long.
Again he toyed with the idea of playing truant but found himself drawn to the school gate by thoughts of Barbara. His first encounter however was with Stick, Stephen and Noddy. They were sitting in their favourite spot arguing.
“They are just a load of baloney!” Stick snorted.
“What are?” Willy asked as he sat down.
“UFOs”
“What?”
“U- F- Os. You know- Unidentified Flying Objects,” Step
hen said.
“Oh, Flying Saucers,” Willy replied. In spite of being deeply interested in the phenomena he was only half listening, his eyes scanning for a glimpse of Barbara.
Stephen was on one of his hobby-horses. He kept trying to convince Stick. “It stands to reason. With all those millions of stars; all suns with their own solar systems; and with other planets. There must be other life out there.”
“Possibly with planets that have the right conditions to support life,” Interrupted Stick. “Nobody’s seen one yet.”
“There must be other habitable planets, and other life forms,” Stephen persisted.
Noddy laughed. “Little green men,” he added.
“What started this argument?” Willy asked.
Stephen answered. “It’s in today’s paper. Someone on the Atherton Tablelands saw a UFO last night,” he explained.
Stick looked sceptical. “Claims to have seen, you mean,” he said.
“That is the third sighting in a month, and all by three different people,” Stephen replied.
Stick snorted. “All eyewash. It depends what they had been drinking; or smoking,” he replied.
“Too many people have seen them over the years for it just to be drunks, or drugs, or hallucinations,” Stephen persisted.
“Oh yeah? So how come these UFOs don’t show up on radar screens. How come all those sophisticated Air Defence Systems don’t detect them?” Stick asked.
“They do! They often appear on radar. Even pilots see them,” Stephen answered hotly.
“Oh crap! Then why don’t the air force shoot them down?”
“Superior technology,” Stephen said.
“Poop!” Stick rejoined, but he was obviously stumped for an immediate answer.
Noddy now interjected. “They might be invisible. Remember that beaut film we saw about the invaders from outer space who were invisible and who used human corpses to move about in?”
Willy shuddered at the imagery. Human corpses! What would Uncle Ted’s body be like now? What will it be like to die- and to putrefy? While he pondered these dark thoughts the argument raged on.
Stephen began to lose his temper. “Shut up Noddy,” he snapped, blinking angrily through his glasses. “We aren’t talking Science Fiction.”
“What shape are these alleged things anyway?” Stick asked.
Noddy answered first. “Saucer shaped of course, if they are flying saucers,” he quipped.
“Football shaped,” Stephen replied, ignoring Noddy’s chuckles.
“And with coloured flashing lights and deep, vibrating humming noises I suppose,” Stick scoffed.
Stephen shook his head. “No. No lights. But they did move slowly and with a quiet hum; as though they were hovering to watch us, or so one man reported,” he answered.
“Bull! Why would they bother to watch us? Why not just land and talk to us?” Stick asked.
“They may be afraid we might shoot at them,” Stephen suggested.
“Oh yeah? So what happened to the superior technology then?” Stick cried.
Stephen scowled but quickly recovered. “Perhaps they don’t want to frighten us! Anyway, they do land. What about those circular areas of flattened grass in the swamps near Tully a few years ago?”
“They were just a hoax. Two men said they made all those patterns in the grass as practical jokes,” Stick replied.
Stephen shook his head. “That was in England, not in North Queensland,” he replied.
Willy joined in: “Didn’t someone think they were caused by ‘Willy Willies’?”
They all laughed.
“Trust you to think of that one Willy!” Noddy said. “Anyway, I know why they landed in the swamps. They aren’t little green men at all. They are little green frogs.”
“Shut up Noddy! If you can’t be sensible then don’t say anything,” Stephen snarled. He took off his glasses and polished them furiously. There was a tense silence.
Stick turned to Willy. “What about you Willy? Do you believe in UFOs?”
Ordinarily Willy would have entered the debate with relish. He was quite interested in such things but just at the moment he didn’t want to be drawn into the argument. He shifted uncomfortably on his seat. “Don’t know. Could be. I’ll believe it when I see it,” he replied.
At that moment he caught sight of Barbara. Without another word he stood up and walked away, leaving an angry Stephen calling after him. Willy walked straight over to where Barbara was standing. For once she seemed to be on her own.
“Excuse me Barbara,” Willy said. She looked at him; a cool, level stare which he found very disconcerting. With an effort he went on: “I’m sorry if I bothered you the other day. I won’t speak to you anymore if that is what you want.”
Barbara looked surprised. A half-smile formed. “You didn’t bother me,” she replied. Willy’s heart leapt, then fell as she went on: “But just at the moment I don’t want to talk to boys, thank you.”
There was an awkward silence while Willy tried to digest the possible meanings of this. He decided to withdraw gracefully. “Thanks for telling me. Goodbye for now,” he said. He turned and walked off, his mind racing.
Did she mean that she didn’t want to talk to ALL boys? Did that include Scranton? ‘Maybe she has heard what Scranton had been boasting? Perhaps there is hope for me,’ he thought. But had Scranton actually done something and she now regretted letting him? That idea really hurt. ‘Oh blast! There’s Marjorie! Scranton can have her! She wouldn’t mind what he did, the little troll!’
Willy dodged around a corner and went off to the far end of the oval till the bell went. In class he kept looking at Barbara and wondering.
Her behaviour also mystified him. She and Karen Hart seemed bent on getting into trouble. They kept talking and did no work. As soon as the teacher’s back was turned they threw notes to friends and bits of rubber at people they didn’t like. Next they started calling insults to some of the other girls. This drew the teacher’s wrath. Willy found it all upsetting as well as puzzling. He could not understand why they did it. The only good thing was that Karen seemed to be the worst.
Mr Conkey, their Geography teacher, turned and snapped at them: “Stop that you girls! I’ve just about had enough.”
Willy liked Mr Conkey. He was a slightly tubby man in his forties who usually had a good sense of humour. He was also the captain commanding the school’s Army Cadet unit.
Barbara back-answered him: “It’s not us sir. You tell them to stop saying things about us!”
“That will do! Save it for later. Get on with exercise fourteen,” Mr Conkey ordered.
Stick, who sat beside Willy, leaned across behind him and whispered to the girl in the next desk: “Hey Glenda, what are they saying about Barbara?”
Willy went rigid but pretended disinterest. He dreaded what he might hear.
Glenda leaned over and replied: “I heard that she and Karen had some sort of orgy with some of the Year 11 boys on Saturday night.”
“Who told you that?” Willy asked, unable to stay quiet.
“Oh. I heard it from Samantha. Her brother told her.”
Mr Conkey appeared beside them: “Enough talk. Get on with your work.”
“Yes sir,” they chorused. They bent dutifully to their books. But Willy found he could not concentrate at all. His mind felt like a squirming mass of maggots.
A few minutes later there was a loud shriek. Willy looked up. Barbara had turned around and grabbed the girl behind her, Nicole, by the wrist and was twisting it.
“Give me that!” Barbara cried.
Mr Conkey looked up and frowned. “Stop that!” he called.
Barbara did not let go. “She is calling me names and writing horrible notes about me,” she cried. She got to her feet and twisted harder. Nicole screamed and tried to struggle free. Barbara yelled at her: “Give me that!”
Mr Conkey stormed over but could only shout. Barbara suddenly broke Nicole’s grip and snatched up a cru
mpled note.
Mr Conkey held out his hand: “Give me that note.”
“No!” Barbara was defiant, eyes blazing, breasts heaving, and her face nearly as red as her hair.
Karen also stood up. “Nicole started it sir. It’s not Barbara’s fault. They are saying things about us.”
“Well it’s true!” Nicole yelled.
Barbara’s hand moved in a blur. There was a loud smack! Nicole cried in pain and stepped back, holding her cheek. She burst into tears.
“That does it!” Mr Conkey thundered. “To the office, both of you!”
“But sir, that’s not fair,” Barbara replied.
Mr Conkey pointed to the door. “Don’t argue. We will sort it out later when everyone has cooled down. Now go!”
For a moment it appeared that Barbara would defy him. Then she shrugged and marched to the door. Karen followed her. At the door Karen turned and pointed at Nicole. “You lying little bitch! We will pay you out for this!”
Before Mr Conkey could respond she ran off, followed by Barbara. Mr Conkey fumed and sat down at his desk to write a note. Willy sat shaking his head in some distress. When Mr Conkey had finished he looked up. “Roger, take this to the Deputy Principal please.”
Willy sat feeling doubly wretched. If only he could help somehow! At morning break he walked past the office and saw Barbara and Karen sitting outside the Deputy Principal’s office. That formidable lady was speaking to them so he kept well clear. The two girls did not appear at the next two lessons.
At lunch time Willy’s hopes received an unexpected boost. As he walked towards the Tuck Shop with Stick and Noddy he saw Barbara in the distance. He noted unhappily that it was Scranton she was talking to. Then it became rapidly apparent, even at 50 metres, that it was a far from friendly conversation. Barbara began waving an angry finger under Scranton’s nose and was clearly agitated.
Whatever she said obviously didn’t please Scranton, judging by the scowl it caused. He snapped something back. At that Barbara exploded and half the school, including Willy, heard her shout: “Don’t you call me a troll, you foul-mouthed pig!”
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