Vengeance

by P. A. Rose

  I braced myself as we skidded towards the group with no hope of stopping. The first member of the gang, Liam, tried to put his hands out to stop the car, but was catapulted straight onto the bonnet as his legs were smashed out from under him. His body spun around in the air and travelled onto the windscreen smashing it into a web. Liam bounced up the car banging off the top of the roof and into a twisted pile behind the car. Another gang member dived over a garden wall to avoid the oncoming car. Patrick was clipped on the side, and he spun around hitting the road with his head. Some of the gang laid scattered about as they had knocked each other over in an attempt to escape. The ones at the back had turned and ran as the car piled into them, and were already half way back down the street. Giles somehow managed to avoid the car and was stood in the middle of mayhem total unscathed, gang members spread about him and running off.

  Inside the car we were whipped forwards and backwards in our seats. My head and neck were hurting, but I was okay. Linda jumped out of the car and rushed over to Giles, slipping on the ice and nearly knocking him over.

  “Stay in the car,” Mr Johnson shouted into the back seat while opening the door.

  He jumped out of the car and ran around to twisted body of Liam on the floor behind. Mr Johnson got his phone out and dialled as he knelt down. My head and neck were in pain from the whiplash and I was in shock from the collision. The sick was coming back and I couldn’t stop it. I opened the door and emptied my lunch onto the road next to the head of Patrick O’Keefe, and lumps of half digested chips and sausage splattered into his hair.

  I spat the last of the sick out as Patrick was slowly regaining consciousness, Giles was hugging his mum, and behind Mr Johnson was speaking with the emergency services. I didn’t want to be involved. It was a disaster. I didn’t want to be seen as part of this accident. I grabbed my ruck sack and scrambled out of the car and ran away from the accident, away from any involvement, away from any responsibility.

  “Jonathan, come back,” Linda shouted, but I didn’t stop.

  I didn’t even look back. I didn’t know the area particularly well, as this wasn’t a place I had ever walked about or wanted to walk around. I ran back towards the school and hoped I would soon pick up roads I would recognise. I was nearly at the school when I saw the chip shop sign, a blue jumping fish on a white background, “Chip Away.” We sometimes came up here for food on the way home. I’d never been so pleased to see that sign as I was now. I cut across the road and picked my way through a few back streets that connected back to my normal route. In the distance I could make out the local newsagents. I was on the way home, away from the tangled mess I left back on the estate. Even though I knew I was alone and in an area of safety, I kept running all the way home. I wanted to make sure I was far away from that accident as possible, as I knew the O’Keefe’s wouldn’t let this go unanswered, there would be consequences.

  I rushed inside shutting the door, slung my ruck sack down the hallway, and raced straight up to my bedroom. There was no one else in the house it was just Dad and I. I lay on my bed in the dark and re-traced my steps, trying to make sense of what had just happened. The way the car had hit those gang members I knew it was serious. The O’Keefe’s were the bane of our lives at school and I felt they deserved it. In the past they had taken money and my pocket games console. I learnt, as did all the other students at school, to never bring in anything of value and never bring any more money than you needed for lunch. I had broken this rule and everything had gone wrong. The less you carried the less you could lose it was that simple. If Patrick couldn’t get satisfaction from bullying or stealing from other kids, there was always Giles and I nearby to harass. Sometimes the O’Keefe gang decided it was just your turn and the easiest thing to do was to take it and keep quiet. If you went to teachers it just got worse. They would target you out side of school and find another member of the gang to carry out the attacks. I had seen programs on the TV stating kids that bully at school were bullied at home and I hoped it was true. I hoped at home he got beaten and worse by the rest of his family, a little satisfaction for the troubled life I had to live around him. Giles and I had one year left at that school with the O’Keefe’s, then we would be free, but the O’Keefe’s bullying had become worse the older they became. It was bound to escalate and I thought the accident was almost inevitable.

  I slowly regained my breathing from the long run back and realised I needed to let my Dad know what had happened. I stripped off my coat, walked down stairs, and grabbed the cordless phone on the side table in the hallway as I walked into the kitchen. The kitchen floor was sticky and dirty. The dirty dishes from day before yesterday’s meal still sat on the kitchen side ready to be loaded into the dishwasher. My throat was too dry to talk, so I quickly grabbed a pint glass, and filled it full of water and gulped it down. I called Dad and had a brief conversation as he seemed too busy to talk. He still couldn’t be back until late, and told me to order myself a pizza and get some rest, and we would discuss tomorrow afternoon. I dialled straight away to the local pizza delivery and ordered a pepperoni pizza, and watched a couple of forgettable films on DVD before crashing out on the sofa exhausted and scared. Scared of what had happened and scared of would happen next.

  CHAPTER 2

  My legs were sore, neck ached, and my head was fuzzy. I stretched out on the sofa squeezing the muscles in my legs out, slowly waking up. A blanket covered me. I guessed my Dad threw it over me when he came in last night. The TV had been turned off, and the pizza box was still on the floor with a few slices left. I sat up and began eating the cold pizza as I switched on the TV. It was early morning, and I flicked around the channels to find something to watch while I ate my left over pizza, and thought about what had happened yesterday. I pulled the curtains back to let some light in and the dust blew back across the floor from the wave of wind. The house as usual was a mess, old cups of tea and coffee sat on the tables next to the sofa. The air was musty as the windows hadn’t been opened and carpet not hoovered since my aunty came around four months ago. I shuffled into the kitchen still waking up and rubbing my sore neck from the accident. The dirty dishes were still there waiting to be cleaned. The white kitchen floor was still sticky and my shoes made a squeaky sound. I washed up a cup and made a cup of tea. I tided the dirty dishes away and clean away the mess, taking warm slugs of tea as I went.

  I trudged up stairs, and into the shower room to freshen up. I brushed my teeth and looked in at myself in the plastic cabinet mirrors. Was this really my life? I thought. My blue eyes were blood shot and lack of sleep was marked with dark circles underneath, and I flattened down my dark messy slept on hair. I didn’t sleep well on the sofa, but couldn’t be bothered to get changed and go to bed properly. I finished brushing and swilled out. I stared back into the mirror again and contemplated the events of yesterday. I always hoped, once I left school life would get better. In nine more months, I would have escaped and I was planning on doing my a-levels at a local further education college instead of the school sixth form. I wanted to get away from that place and those people as soon as possible. I couldn’t help but thinking what my mum would have said to me at times like this, if she were alive. I spent nine months with her in her womb. When I was born she was already dead, she didn’t get the chance to hold me for a single second. Through my life, I often thought of mum when times got hard, trying to picture her and imagine what she would say. I only had home movies, pictures and other people’s memories to guide me. From these pieces of information I had constructed a fake mum in my mind, and she would give me advice and encouragement when needed. I had also kept her name, Harker. In the hospital they put my down as baby Harker on the forms purely for admin purposes. Dad never corrected the mistake. I guessed it was another way of remembering her, proof of her sacrifice.

  I stripped off, got in the shower and allowed the hot water to wash not just the dirt away, but also my thoughts and feelings for a few minutes. I grabbed a towel and went into my room t
o dry and dress. I sorted through my least dirty clothes, and put on a pair of jeans and t-shirt before walking down stairs with armfuls of washing. Dad finally stirred and joined me in his dressing gown for some breakfast.

  Dad was a small, pale, and thin. The hours he worked at night and lack of day light showed. He was bald on the top with hair at the sides that was un-kept and fluffy. He usually wore little round glass, but in the morning he could cope without for a while. I wasn’t going to be much bigger according to the predicted charts, and I suppose I would inherit his hairline, as well. He ate breakfast at the kitchen table after he cleared a space from old newspapers and comics. I explained what had happened the day before with the gang grabbing Giles, the car accident and my running away.

  “Don’t worry about running off. I will give them a call later. Best not to get involved in these types of things,” he said, munching on his cornflakes as he briefly looked up from an old newspaper.

  Later on, after he spoke with Giles’s Dad, he came in and switched off the TV. He sat on the sofas opposite ready to talk, and I turned around to face him and the news.

  “Giles’s mum was arrested for dangerous driving, and they are pursuing a case of kidnapping against the O’Keefes as well,” he said.

  I small smile broke across my face on hearing the O’Keefes weren’t going to get away it.

  “Is Giles okay?” I asked.

  “He is fine, but the boy his mum hit, Liam, is in hospital still, they doubt he will walk again,” he said grimly.

  I knew it was going to be bad as soon as I saw him motionless on the floor after he bounced over the roof. Again I couldn’t contain a smile, revenge at last even if it was accident. My pleasure at his paralysis quickly turned to worry. I immediately started to sweat, and knew there would be consequences for Giles and I, as the O’Keefe’s weren’t a forgiving family. They would be hell bent on revenge for Liam’s accident and angry about the kidnapping charges. Things were going to get messy.

  “Liam is part of that gang, they will come after us,” I said.

  “Probably, but they don’t realise you are involved. Good thing you ran away. It will be best if you don’t see Giles for a while.”

  Maybe he was right. Maybe I would be okay, but I wanted to visit Giles and redeem myself for walking away at the front gates.

  “I can’t just abandon him now. We have been friends for years.”

  “I know, but this is your exam year. You can’t afford to get involved, and we need to keep you out of sight.”

  “Why?”

  “You will be a key witness in the trial against the O’Keefes. If they are found guilty, it should go a long way to clearing Linda’s name of dangerous driving. I have told Giles’s Dad that there will be no contact from now on until things settle down. This includes at school. It’s the best for everyone.”

  “You can’t do this.”

  “I can and I have this isn’t up for debate. It’s only you and me, and I can’t be around to watch out for you during the day if they come after you,” he said raising his voice and standing up to exert his authority.

  I stormed off up stairs and put some music on to drown him out. Yet again everything came down to what was best for him. However, he couldn’t stop me contacting Giles. I decided to email him, but the computer wouldn’t connect.

  “I have disconnected your internet connection,” Dad shouted up the stairs, “and I am taking your phone.”

  I couldn’t speak with Giles and I had no other friends. I was stuck inside the house for the rest of the week’s holiday. I only left the house once to give my statement at the police station. The rest of the time I played on my computer, listened to music and even studied for something to do. Anything was better than sitting around re-living the car crash in my mind. The memory lingered of Liam bouncing over the bonnet of the car, smashing the windscreen, Patrick lying on the floor next to the car and the smell of sick from when I threw up. I kept worrying about what would happen on returning to school, and at least studying helped immerse myself and distract myself from my pending problems.

  After the weeks holiday, I returned to school. I came into registration late and signed in. As usual the noise the registration class was out of control, people throwing stuff about, and texting and phones ring. Students shouting across the room to each other, while others sat quietly in the corner huddled together keeping out of the way, and having private conversations. Many of the other students were discussing what had happened with Giles and the O’Keefes, and were looking over to the corner of the room at Giles sat by himself, and Patrick and his friend Dave sat behind him. I guessed it was the talk of the school. The teacher, Mr May seemed none the wiser to the situation, even though I was told the school had been told, and would keep an eye out. He did as he normally did, and read his newspaper waiting for the bell for his first lesson. Patrick and Dave were talking to Giles, but I couldn’t hear what they were saying above the noise. I guessed from the contorted features as they spoke it wasn’t nice, and Giles face slumped and his shoulders hunched into try and protect himself from their vicious words. Giles turned around and spotted me at the teacher’s desk signing in and he looked relieved, but his face scrunched up in anger as yet again I walked away, and Patrick began laughing and pointing at me. I withdraw to the door, red faced from the attention and ashamed I had deserted him again.

  The bell rang. I was straight out of the door walking quickly to my first lesson and away from Giles and the extra attention he was getting. I sat in the classroom hoping someone else would sit next to me before Giles arrived. The class filled up quickly and everyone sat at desks around me, but no one next to me. I knew Giles would be here soon and I would have no choice, maybe it was for the best. I decided I would explain everything to him when he arrived. However, the lesson started and he never arrived, nor did Patrick and Dave. I sat there wondering what had happened through the rest of the lesson and darted out as soon as it finished. I tried the chess room first as we sometimes dropped in to arrange games for lunch time and hide away during breaks. I opened the door, but couldn’t see Giles. The rest of the club were in from the years below us. They were the closet people I could call friends after Giles.

  “Giles been in?” I asked hopefully.

  I received a stream of shaking heads. I walked passed the cloakroom area and dived inside the curtain of coats hanging up. The cloakroom was set into an alcove in the wall and we would some times hide behind the coats out of the way. No luck here either. I didn’t have much time left before the next bell and walked quickly on to the Art room. Mrs Fisher would let us come in during breaks to keep out of the way. She would always be in the room preparing lessons or doing her own work.

  “Hi, Jon,” Mrs Fisher said.

  “Giles been in.”

  Again I got a shake of the head, and I slouched off to my first lesson hoping I would find him on the way.

  I wanted to apologise for ignoring him earlier in registration and explain to him why I hadn’t been in touch, and tell him that I would do the right thing in court. I slouched into the room and Giles was sat at the front already. A moment of relief stood me up straight until I realised Patrick and Dave were sat behind him. Giles’s clothes were dishevelled, and his cheeks bruised and face stained with tears. Patrick and Dave stared violently at me as I walked in. I looked away and went quickly to the back of the class, doing as my Dad instructed. Giles face turned to disbelief, as I again ignored him, and walked off leaving him to the bullies. Ashamed and feeling guilty I sat at the back of the classroom hiding from everyone’s gaze, unable to look anyone in the eye. I could sense people glancing around at me and back at Giles, and heard whispering. I couldn’t believe the teachers had let them get away with it during the school hours. Obviously Mr May had done nothing to ensure Giles’s safety, just as he hadn’t at the school gates on the day of the kidnapping.

  Every day there was some new torture for Giles to endure and a new reason to avoid him. The gang subj
ected him to the old fashion head in the toilet, stealing his clothes, general beatings, taking his money, and wrecking his books. During that week, I heard of even worse events that I hoped were not true, but just teenaged kids over exaggerating. Those who hung around him got caught up in the events and either got the same treatment or made to take part. In the end, no one would even sit with him in class or eat lunch with him at dinner times. Giles never walked home anymore. I heard even at home cyber bulling was continuous with text messages and social network sites. I was told through the other kids at school that his older sister was attacked, by the O’Keefe sisters, while on a night out. Giles’s family was hounded day and night by the O’Keefes, with physical attacks, prank phone calls, and the windows of the house and car smashed.

  I dipped out of maths on the Friday of the first week back, to go to the toilet, and stopped enroute by a sobbing in the corner of the cloakroom, behind the rows of coats and bags. On the floor there was a bag with a Matrix sticker on top. I scouted around carefully before approaching.

  “Giles is that you? Are you okay?”

  He shifted out from behind the coats and lifted his head up. The tears were rolling down his freshly bruised face, eyes were red, and nose was dripping wet. He sucked back the tears and wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his blazer. Giles took a moment to focus and then his expression altered rapidly. His eyes narrowed and forehead frowned glowing red with rage. He jumped out of his seat, and charged and shoulder barged me straight in the chest, forcing the wind from my lungs as I hit the hard concrete floor. He punched me in the back as I rolled over, and I quickly twisted around and looked up at him.