by M Field
“Beatrice, what conclusion would you like today to end in?”
I blinked and stared back.
I blew out a short breath and muttered quickly, “To feel safe, sir. To walk around school and not fear any form of retribution for being here now.”
He nodded and glanced to Stacey. “Anything to add before I make my decision?”
Stacey grunted and rolled her eyes, and crossing her arms across her chest, she whined, “It wasn’t serious, sir; she just can’t take a joke.”
I braced myself for a mediocre decision and considered transferring to one of the other high schools in town. As I was mentally checking off which ones to consider, I heard a throat clearing to my side. Brit was leaning forward in her chair with her arm half raised, trying to garner some attention.
“Excuse me, Mr Sanders, but I’d like to say something.”
He looked directly at her and used his right hand to gesture for her to continue.
“Um,” she shifted nervously in her chair. “You see, for years Stacey has encouraged us to help her out with picking on other kids and I must admit—” she swallowed, ducking her head so she was looking at her crossed ankles, “—it started off being a bit of fun. But now … it’s gotten worse. Sir, what I’m trying to say is that Stacey had an agenda that day. If we had been in another class, it might’ve been worse. She complained that we didn’t have Art because she wanted to grab a Stanley knife to cut up Trice’s face.”
Both my mother and I gasped at her revelation.
“I really believe that Stacey would have gotten worse, Sir, and unfortunately, we were too blind to pull away.”
I snuck a look at Stacey, who had since turned and sat glaring at Brit mouthing, What the fuck? You bitch, to her. I smiled inside—it felt like the tables were finally turning.
“Well, then,” Mr Sanders began, “Brit, thank you for that admission. You and Kristen, you are not to return to school until Friday, and no more incidents like this are to be repeated. Stacey—” he turned his gaze to her, “—seeing as you have shown no remorse and have encouraged others to participate in the assault of another student, I feel it is in the best interest of the school in both safety and our moral code that you do not return. You are hereby expelled.”
I blinked and quickly glanced back over to her. The colour had drained from her face. Her hand touched her gaping mouth as she stared back at him.
“What?” her mother shouted. “This is ridiculous!”
“I can assure you that it is not,” Mr Sanders countered, “Beatrice, I think it would be best if you took a few days to recoup and came back to us on Wednesday.”
I shook my head and smiled. “Sir, I believe I’ve hidden away enough. I’ll come back today, if that’s okay. Time to start afresh.”
He nodded and rose from his seat, indicating for us to leave through the main entrance. I hitched my school bag over my right shoulder and looked over to Stacey. There was no eye contact, instead in her seat, sat a weak and sad girl, her lips quivering as tears trailed down her face.
I turned and followed my mother and grandmother out of the door. We were barely past the doorframe when I was quickly drawn into mamma’s arms.
“Brava, Beatrice. Sei proprio brava.” Mamma gave me a final squeeze and released me.
I smiled and turned, heading to class. I already felt the clamp of guilt ease from my chest and I welcomed the feeling of justice.
By the end of the day, whispers of Stacey’s expulsion had gone around, and funnily enough, the gossip about my ‘attempted suicide’ was forgotten. That was high school—high on the drama, low on reality. Students were too impatient to stick with the gossip for too long. It was worse than paparazzi.
Hazel, Trin, and Theo were thrilled about the news, so much so that Trin got a detention that night for yelling out, “Take that, whores! Fuck with us and you pay!” right as our History teacher walked past. We burst into laughter and she just shrugged and winked.
Walking around the yard felt surreal. I didn’t have the fear of looking over my shoulder anymore. The winter chill didn’t stop the warmth from filling my chest. I giggled as I walked to class, my steps turning into a light skip. I didn’t care if anyone thought I had gone crazy, I was finally truly happy.
I arrived at the bus stop later that afternoon, my cheeks red with a slight ache from the smile I held all day. Students began piling onto our bus, but I could only see Robbie. Alex was nowhere to be seen. He never missed a day, his results were too important to him. Robbie had been ecstatic about my news on the bus, but my chest ached at not being able to tell Alex. Did I want to tell him?
“He didn’t come today.”
Breaking out of my thoughts, I muttered, “Who?”
“Alex. I know you were wondering. Trice, he had a really shitty weekend. You might want to lose the whole ‘raving sour bitch’ routine towards him.”
I glared at Robbie and sneered, “He dated the worst bitch in history, Rob. I don’t think I can forget straight away; got it?”
He returned my glare. “Yeah, I do. But you can try. At least freakin’ try.”
I huffed and turned my back to him. Shaking my head, I stared out the window and watched the dry landscape pass by. We sat in silence for the remainder of the trip.
Once home, I threw my bag on the couch and noticed the answering machine light was blinking. Reaching over, I tapped the play button. A clear male voice began speaking.
“Hello? Yes, this is Mr Edgar Stevenson. I would like to inform Beatrice Vera that her place in the senior dance academy has been successful. We look forward to working with her both locally and when she graduates and heads to Melbourne …”
He rattled off enrolment dates, but my brain had frozen on ‘successful.’ Anger towards Robbie soon dissipated as I ran around the house, screaming, “I got in!” over and over. Things were looking up and I couldn’t wait! Senior school would train me for entry to the prestigious academy in Melbourne. Bring it on.
Chapter Ten
“Colors”
Amos Lee
Alex
Sunday couldn’t come soon enough. After spending a week in and out of consciousness, I had woken up with a split knuckle and no recollection of how I got it. After three days of waking up with a splitting headache and furry teeth—I finally got my shit together. I didn’t need something else tying me closer to my father. My self-inflicted pity party wasn’t going to get Bea’s friendship back. A week was a long time to spend not speaking to her. Even on the bus, she sat at the front, turning her head away as I passed.
This morning, frustrated by her freeze out, I knocked on her window and was left standing there. My knuckle still had an angry cut across it, but there was nothing I could do about it. I waited for any sign of movement but—nothing. I curled my fists, about to bang louder on her window, but I knew she’d ignore it. With a sigh, I left and jogged the lonely trail alone.
Our football match was in two hours so I headed home to get cleaned up and ready. The aggression unfurled inside and I needed to let off some steam. We were playing our rivals, The Suns—so many cocky arseholes on that team. I could do with a few fights.
Walking into our house, I quietly raced up to the bathroom to shower. Turning on the faucet, I kept thinking of Trice’s words. “I don’t think we should hang out anymore.” It ran on a loop, over and over in my mind. I turned the cold water tap down to make the shower hotter, burning my back and giving me something to feel besides guilt. As the water ran down, I scolded myself for being such an idiot. Flashbacks of my shitty relationship with Stacey filtered into my mind. Her asking about Beatrice, mentioning she knew her, asking how long I’d known her and Robbie … She never asked about any of my other mates. A big neon sign saying, “Dickhead” should have been posted on my forehead. I had missed all the signs and now lost a life-long friend. Nope, I decided. If I had to camp outside her bedroom window, I would. Come hail or shine.
I arrived at the football oval, excit
ed to play. The boys were all huddled in the field in two separate teams, so I headed towards my guys.
“What’s up, morons?” I greeted.
“Well, don’t you look like Mr Chipper today? Um, except for your hand. What did you do?” Ty ribbed me.
“Nothing, don’t worry about it. Why wouldn’t I be pumped? Time to kick some arse!” I smiled.
“So, it’s not because of the tail you’re chasing at the moment? No guys trying to chase it? Or is it just little ol’ Stace putting a smile on your dial?” Jase quipped.
My eyes narrowed at him. “Do not mention that conniving bitch again. We’re over, and that’s how it should be. I just hurt my hand helping out Dad the other day. End of story. ”
The boys looked at me in shock. I never spoke to them in that tone, ever.
“Chill, bro, we are just teasin’ you. Lips are sealed,” Ty said, motioning his hands across his mouth.
“Appreciate it. Where’s Coach?”
With that, we went back to normal. Guys are good like that.
Before long, the whistle blew and the match got underway. Luckily for me, playing the forward position meant that I could let off some steam. Unlucky for the opposition, it also meant that they would suffer a few ‘boo boos’. Running to my position, I shook out my legs and stretched my arms while keeping an eye on the ball. Cory, my opponent, had been a dick to Robbie and me at a party recently, so this was going to be fun. I was channelling some pretty fierce adrenaline, and I kept on my player the best that I could.
As the opposition ran towards me to attempt to clear the ball, I dashed forward as Cory tried for a mark. With a jump and a knee to his back, he dropped the ball and went down like a sack of shit. I quickly rescued the ball and kicked it to Ty, who sent it back. Strike one.
“Fuck!” Cory whined. “Man, that was bullshit, and you know it.”
“What’s that, Princess?” I shouted, with my hand to my ear. “Did that boo boo hurt?” Sniggering, I jogged to the side awaiting the next point of contact.
Several tackles later, I was beginning to feel rejuvenated. I had tackled a few idiots and gotten in a few punches. Life was looking good. Jogging up to the coach at three-quarter time, our team was kicking arse. We were up eight goals and looking to get even more.
“What is with you today, Reynolds?” Coach pestered me.
“What do you mean?” I replied, with a wedge of orange between my lips.
“You’re meant to be playing, not annihilating the opposition. Cut that shit out!” He flicked me behind the ear as I leaned forward and grabbed another wedge.
Flinching, I muttered. “Fine, Coach,” and retrieved my water bottle from the bench. I supposed I could relax a bit on the head kicking. It was only fair.
The siren rang, and we ran back to our positions. If we kept up this momentum, the match would be ours.
Not long into the final quarter, I could hear shouting coming from Robbie’s side. Looking
over, I saw him clenching Gary, his opponent’s, jersey with his face only an inch away. This was not good. I knew I had my aggression issues, but Robbie was a time bomb. I gave up on caring about the ball position and quickly jogged over to him. He continued to clench Gary’s top while Gary held a hand over it, clenching his teeth back. Whatever Gary was saying, it obviously wasn’t good. After a few pushes and shoves, they both let go and stood a metre apart, glaring at each other.
“Say it again, you prick. C’mon! I fucking dare you!” Robbie yelled.
Gary grinned and wiped his mouth. “Which bit? That your sister got cut or that it’s a shame she’s gone loopy as she looks so fuckable?” He laughed.
Say what? All of a sudden, the air rushed out of my lungs as the wind soared between my ears. I could no longer see who was around me. My eyes had a new target, and nothing else was going to step into my way. I jogged closer, clenching my fists, ready to explode. Gary looked over and spotted me, and his grin got wider.
“Oh lookie here, here comes her fuck buddy anyway. Or her non fuck—”
Nothing else was said as I threw my fist in and crunched him in the jaw. Once I had a taste of hitting him, my adrenaline climbed rapidly.
“You better shut your hole right now, Gary. I’m in the mood to do some damage.”
He wiped his jaw and scowled at me. He puffed out his chest and clenched his fists. This was too easy. I advanced and before he even had his fist up, I had clocked him again in the jaw.
“You’re a pussy, Alex. From what I heard, Trice’s snatch is pretty tight. Looking forward to hitting that at the next party.” His words echoed in the tunnel of my mind. Over and over, coupled with Trice saying that she didn’t want to hang out anymore, I saw red. Before he had a chance to stand, I bent forward and began to punch and crunch bones. My already split knuckles relished the feeling of turning his face into mince. Each blow curved into the next and I no longer saw his face.
Thoughts continued to cascade through my mind and the guilt attached itself to me. I could have protected her, I fucked the enemy, I slit her flesh … I grunted and roared as I pummelled into Gary. As my arms continued to fly, several hands grasped me under my shoulders to draw me back.
“No!” I roared. “I need to protect her!”
The firm grips on my arms threw me until my back was on the grass and held there by Robbie and Ty. I thrashed around, struggling to gain a hold and get up.
“Get the hell off me!”
Robbie then used all his force to pin my right shoulder down while putting his knee in my gut, effectively winding me.
“Calm down, mate. You need to calm the hell down. Trice is safe. She’s safe!”
The veins in my neck popped as I struggled to get up. Staring into his dark eyes, his brow creased as he watched me thrash around.
“You got him… But you went too far.”
I panted my frustration, shaking my body to get rid of Robbie while tipping my head up to look at Gary. He lay motionless on the field while the coaches and medic team looked him over. Oh fuck … Have I killed him? Then I heard a gurgled cough from his chest and his arm went up to touch his face.
“Now, if I get up, do you promise to not charge him? I think you broke his face.”
My chest heaves subsided and I nodded. I let Robbie lead me away, and while looking down at the ground, before I could get too far, I muttered a weak, “I’m sorry, Gary,” and turned and left.
Looked like my football season was over for the year.
I arrived home late that afternoon. No doubt by tomorrow, school would know and students would stare at me expecting me to lose my shit again. I had spent hours after the match driving to secluded spots around the river in hope of clearing my head and easing the guilt that I felt about the fact of almost putting Gary in hospital.
Walking into my house, I immediately felt a charge in the air.
“I’ll ask you one more fucking time, Meg. Where is it?” My father stood over my mother who was against the fridge, her right hand across her cheek.
Oh shit. He’s looking for the bourbon...I still have the bottle under my bed.
“I..I..I..ppput it up here. I ss..swear.” Her lips were swollen as tears soaked her red cheeks.
“All I ask is to have my fucking drink here. I just wanted a nightcap.” He pushed into her, knocking the bills that were attached against the door. His head turned as he glared at me.
“Where the fuck you been, Alex? Your mother cooked dinner and was waiting for you. We not good enough to eat with?” my father roared. I braced myself by the door that I had barely managed to swing open.
“I’m sorry; I just had a bad day. I’ll call next time,” I replied.
Looking directly at my father, I saw the telltale signs of booze and rage that had surfaced to his cheekbones, leaving a red blush on both sides. He looked like a rabid animal about to strike. I knew that today was another gambling day, and from the looks of it he must have lost on the greyhounds. Now, I had made it worst by taking his
bottle. There was no way I would admit it.
Dad usually started by having a few drinks at the pub after work. Then his mates, who knew what a spend-a-holic he was would load him up on bourbon and coax him into putting bets down for them. He would follow this up with more drinking and gambling. To top it off, he’d drive home drunk. Did the cops stop him? Of course not. Small town; small minds. Plus, a few off-duty mates would be part of the group who encouraged him to throw his wage away. I hoped one of these days he would be caught before he unintentionally ran someone over. The dirty cops loved Dad, though. Money bought you the right to do whatever in the hell you wanted. Even if that included smacking around your family.
“What’s this shit about you bashing Geoff’s son Gary?” he drunkenly sneered. Baring his teeth, he leaned forward. “You trying to fuckin’ kill someone, you useless piece of shit?”
I cringed, knowing from the tone of his voice he was on a rampage. “You worthless piece of shit. Why are you even in this house if you can’t respect others?”
He swung his fist and crushed it into the side of my face, pain ripping through my jawline.
“I oughta teach you a lesson.”
Facing my father, I barely felt the need to protect myself. The shame of hurting Bea and the guilt of hurting Gary felt like indestructible forces that I couldn’t intercede with.
Still dazed from his punch, he used my weakened stage to let his rage take control. His fists punched, his nails clawed at me, leaving trails of blood that tasted metallic on my lips. My mother wrapped herself in her dressing gown and slipped quietly from the living room, ashamed to look at what my father was doing, not even to help. My cry for him to stop went unheard, and as I fell, he drove his boots into my side.
The one thought ricocheting through my mind was get to Bea. With that, I pulled myself up when he took a step back, out of breath. Looking him in the eye was a struggle as one of my eyes was closed over and the other blurry.