The 8th

by Matt Shaw

  “Who the fuck are you anyway?”

  “You don’t recognise me? I’m the one who was fucking your mother late last night...Could have sworn I saw you hiding in the cupboard tugging yourself off at the sight of my fine ass and your mum’s pert breasts.”

  The lad stood up and started to walk over to me. I think it’s fair to say we’re never likely to be friends even though most of the other classmates were finding me hysterical.

  “Take your seats!” shouted a female voice from the front of the classroom. I looked around and saw a pretty female teacher. I think it’s fair to say she couldn’t have timed that better if she had tried.

  I turned my back on the lad. He wasn’t going to try anything with the teacher there. Who knows, maybe he’ll have a chance to calm down during this lesson? Don’t really care either way. Bullies like him...They’re all talk. I’ve met his kind before. I shot David a quick look and smiled at him. He wasn’t smiling back. He almost looked apologetic.

  * * * * *

  I recalled seeing that expression on David’s face the first day when I had stood up for him. He looked sorry for thinking he had got me involved in his troubles. I want to tell him this isn’t his fault. I want to tell him that they had brought it upon themselves. I want to tell him but I don’t. I turned back to the rest of the class. They all look worried. No doubt they’re wishing I had called their names out too. Give them a way out. Looking around at the remaining classmates, I didn’t realise there were so many who had wronged me. I can’t help but think it would have been better picking a double lesson to do this. Where to start? Where to start? Given the fact I might not get to everyone...Only one place to start really...

  * * * * *

  As another fist connected to my already bloodied nose, I couldn’t help but think - through the intense pain flowing through my body - day two was already worse than day one.

  I dropped to my knees, on the bathroom floor, and tried to focus my vision. I could hear David screaming from the far side of the room as he was receiving the same treatment. My blurred vision snapped back to the best focus it was able to...Just in time to see Piers, the lad who I had had a run in on day one, spit at me.

  “Not such a smart-arse now are you?”

  I wish I could come back with a witty retort but my brain is telling me I’ve taken enough of a beating for today. Another fist to the face floored me. I didn’t move. I just laid there on the tiled floor, near the puddles of piss by the urinal, wishing for it to end. At least I think that’s what I am thinking about. So many thoughts buzzing through my brain that it’s hard to make sense of many of them. Another fist flew towards my face in a blurred motion. This will hurt...

  By the time I could hear my thoughts clear enough to make sense of them, they were being drowned out by the sound of David’s voice. He was crying. My eyes focused on my surroundings. Still on the toilet floor, the stench of stale urine filling one of my nostrils. My other nostril blocked with blood. Every part of me aches.

  “I’m sorry,” said David again. He helped me to my feet. He looked just as battered as I did although, I think it’s fair to say, I took the brunt of it. Probably deserved after sticking up for him yesterday.

  “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for,” I said. Even my voice sounded broken. “Besides,” I lied, “I quite enjoyed that.” Not sure why I do that, trying to put a brave face on and all that. Not the first time I’ve used that as a defense mechanism for when I’m in agonising pain.

  “If you hadn’t stuck up for me yesterday,” he started to say...

  “I wouldn’t have been much of a friend,” I interrupted. Even had I known the beating I was to endure, I still would have spoken up yesterday. I hate bullies. They’re nothing more than cowards hiding behind their little friends. Normally picking on the weaker people just to try and make themselves feel better about their own miserable lives. Fuck them. We both looked at ourselves in the mirror. “Remember...” I said, “...The first rule of Fight Club is...Don’t talk about Fight Club.” David laughed and suddenly grabbed his jaw as a bolt of pain shot through him.

  Surely Day Three will be easier.

  4.

  I think I’d make a good teacher. I believe I have the voice for it. The right amount of authority in my tone.

  “Piers,” I said, using my teacher’s tone, “step forward.” If time is lacking, for my lesson, I’d best start with the main culprit. The one who has constantly been nasty. Seeing what I do to him...That might just be enough for the others to learn by, if I don’t have the time to get to them. Piers didn’t move from his seat; his usual place in the back of the classroom. Was he really going to make me repeat myself? “I’m sorry,” I continued, “maybe you didn’t hear me all the way back there.” I turned to Mrs Price, “Do you often struggle with students at the back not hearing you properly?” She didn’t answer either. Can’t help but think that’s a little rude. It was a civil enough question, I feel. I’ll come back to her later. I turned my attention back to Piers. Just looking at his face makes me feel sick. Memories of what he’s put me through. I’m sure David must feel the same too. “Piers, don’t make me ask again.”

  “Fuck you,” he spat from the area he foolishly perceived as being ‘safe’ at the back of the room. Little boy obviously doesn’t appreciate how far bullets can fly. The rest of the class, especially those who sat in close proximity, weren’t as foolish as a clear gap appeared between me and Piers. I took the gun up from where it rested, close to me, on the table and pointed it directly at Piers. “You won’t shoot me,” he said. Damn, he’s clever. Shooting him will be too easy.

  “You’re right,” I lowered the gun.

  “You’re a fucking pussy,” Piers hissed. His voice so full of venom towards me. How did someone so young get so much hatred inside of them? I blame the parents. I stood up and walked down the aisle of wooden desks and chairs to where Piers sat.

  “I forgot,” I said, “you’re the big man aren’t you? You’re the one people should be afraid of. You’re the one who calls the shots and controls the classrooms and corridors...Those who don’t like you, or follow you, you set about destroying...You and your little gang. You think you’re something special...You really do, don’t you?” He leaned back on his chair so that he was resting on the back two legs of the chair only; the front legs completely clear of the floor. A defiant expression on his face. I smiled at him. I have to say, had the situation been reversed...Had he been the one with the gun pointed at me. I’d have been trembling. I’d have done anything he asked to save myself from getting shot. Is he brave or mentally retarded? “Well, I guess we can come back to you...You know...When you’re ready to come forward,” I said.

  “Long wait,” he muttered. A cocky glance to his surrounding friends. Little show-off.

  “Well - long enough for you to start feeling better,” I said. His defiant expression turned to one of confusion. I flashed him a smile and then hit him in the face with the butt of the handgun. His nose cracked and split open as blood immediately gushed over the table he sat at. One of his friends, a dark haired jock to the left of me, made a move as though to take me on; a move which stopped when he came face to face with the barrel of the gun. “Be smart,” I whispered. I backed away from them...Back towards the front of the class...Back to where I could see everyone.

  “Please stop!” Mrs Price begged.

  I shook my head. “These people...They made my life miserable...They didn’t stop. I asked them. David asked them. They never stopped. Even when we asked you for help...You turned us away. Remember that?”

  “Had I known...”

  “We tried telling you. You didn’t listen!”

  “I would have stopped it.”

  “Hindsight is a wonderful thing, isn’t it?”

  Thinking about hindsight I wonder whether I made things worse, for David and I, when I initially spoke up. Would things have turned out differently had I stayed quiet like Craig? David never said the general level o
f abuse had gotten worse because of me but he was the sort of person to keep that sort of thing to himself. Maybe it wasn’t as frequent before I came? Could ask him. Doubt he’ll answer.

  “This isn’t the way to put things right,” Mrs Price continued. You’d think she’d shut up but obviously it’s against her nature. “They can get suspended...Expelled even...”

  “You really think they care whether they’re in school or not?

  * * * * *

  The third, fourth and fifth days were easier. They were even quite pleasant. Mainly because the back row of our class was empty as Piers and his friends didn’t show up. I’m not sure where they went and I don’t really care. Their absence, probably due to the beating they gave David and I. No doubt they were scared to come in, expecting a one to one with the Headmaster; not that David and I told anyone what had happened. Sure, we were asked but...We figured...It’s done. It’s over. Move on. Hopefully Piers, and all, will move on too.

  By the end of the third day, I was comfortable enough to make my own way around the school without needing David showing me everything but I still hung around with him. Definitely one of the good ones. Who knows, when I leave this school - as, no doubt, I will as soon as dad says we’re moving away - maybe, just maybe, this is a friendship that will stick. Be nice. Normally, when I move on, friendships are quick to disappear. That’s always disappointing.

  * * * * *

  “I’m sure they’ll care,” said Mrs Price as she still tried to convince me that grassing the bullies up was still the right thing to do.

  I shook my head again. “Do you know what they say about you?”

  “I don’t care...”

  “You should. Half of them want to fuck you...Disrespectful to both you and your husband...The other half...They think you have a cock...”

  “Playground stuff...”

  “Not denying it...”

  “What?”

  “Show us.”

  “Don’t be so ridiculous.”

  “I said show us...Prove they’re lying,” I pointed the gun at her.

  “What have I ever done to you?”

  My mind drifted back to the numerous occasions she made me, or one of my classmates, feel stupid in front of everyone else. We’d stand there, after she told us to stand, and not be able to do a damned thing to stop her from tearing us apart over the slightest thing. Talking in class, no homework, poor homework, not paying attention, not getting the required pass mark on one of her many surprise tests...Anything could set her off. Sometimes it was justified but most of the time the dressing down we received was over the top and probably against the school’s policies. I wonder if the school actually has any policies, thinking about it.

  “Come on,” I said. “We’re waiting.”

  “What do you want?”

  “What do I want? I want to make you feel as little as you make us feel...”

  “I make you feel little?”

  “You know you do and, more to the point, you know when you’re doing it. You always have the same wry smile upon your face.”

  “If I’ve ever made you feel stupid, I’m sorry...” She looks as though she’s about to cry but I don’t care. She deserves this. I aimed the gun directly at her eye so she could see straight down the barrel. “Please don’t make me do this...” I pulled the hammer back once more, having carefully released it earlier. She started to cry. I, on the other hand, started to get excited. The feeling of power I’m wielding, I could get used to this. “Okay...” she said. She stood up, with her legs shaking, and unzipped the back of her tight black skirt. She paused, perhaps hoping I was going to tell her I was joking and she didn’t have to remove it. I’ll be doing no such thing. I could feel myself harden. Is it wrong to ask Rebecca to come back over? Maybe I should test out Mrs Price? Well, that is if she doesn’t have a cock. Don’t think I fancy a blow job from a woman with a prick.

  “What are you waiting for?” I asked; a wry smile on my face. Her face reddens as she drops her skirt. I can’t help but feel a little disappointed to note she isn’t wearing stockings but rather tights instead. On the plus side, they’re over the top of a white cotton thong. Not quite the PVC or latex we were expecting to see. Perhaps she saves that for the weekends and days where she works the detention hall? A further plus to the situation reveals no penis. Just a nice mound where her pubic bone is. I’d love to fuck her. I bet she fucks like a good ‘un.

  “Happy?” she asked, fighting back her tears.

  “What do you think class?” a quick scan of my fellow classmates, of which I thought the lads would be grateful for this, revealed no one was looking at Mrs Price. They were all looking directly at me. “Look at her!” I ordered and they did. I looked back at Mrs Price, “Turn around...Let them see you...” Following instructions like a good little student, she turned on the spot. She looked at them...A look in her eyes suggesting she was hoping one of them would come and help her, perhaps give her a jacket or something to wrap herself in. “Bend over I ordered.”

  “Surely this is enough,” she said.

  I shook my head. “Not yet. Bend over.” She wept as she bent over, facing me. “Now turn around,” I said. She did as she was told until her sweet arse was facing me directly. I can see the outline of her pussy lips through the material of both the tights and the thong. It makes me wonder what it would taste like. Perhaps a step too far? I’ll have a bet I’m not the only one thinking along those lines, though. Even Piers, through his bloodied face, must be fancying a taste too. I should have made him turn around. I didn’t mean to give him such a delightful treat. I licked my lips at the thought of what her juices would taste like and shifted in my chair. I’ve heard people say it tastes of fish but I don’t believe it. I hope it doesn’t. I’m not a fan of fish. I’m hoping it tastes like chicken like one of my other friends described. Maybe I’ll be in this school long enough to make a relationship with a girl. That’d be nice. But then...Maybe I could just pull Mrs Price towards me now...Pull her towards me, rip her tights...Pull her knickers to one side and give her a lick. My mouth is watering. I’m tempted but I won’t. Not because I don’t really want to and not because she isn’t attractive. It’s just...She is older than me. Maybe too old? Maybe she is past her sell by date and her creamy juices are off? Perhaps that is when they taste of fish. All this picturing what it tastes like...Rebecca...I’m ready for round two...

  5.

  “She is fit, though,” I said to David. He didn’t answer. He just smiled as he tucked into his lunchtime sandwich. “I mean, how are we supposed to concentrate when faced with that every day? I definitely would...”

  “I wouldn’t,” said David. He swallowed his mouthful and took a sip of his carton of orange.

  “What?”

  “I said I wouldn’t.”

  “You wouldn’t want to sleep with Mrs Price?” I asked with a surprised tone of voice. David shook his head. “You’re kidding me, right? I think you’re the only person who doesn’t want to sleep with her...I mean, as long as the rumours aren’t true and she doesn’t have a manhood growing down there.”

  “Not my cup of tea,” said David. I looked at him again. It was hard to tell whether he was having a laugh or not.

  “Not your cup of tea?”

  “No...Well...Not unless the rumours are true...” he continued.

  “Wait...What? You want to sleep with her if she does have a cock?”

  He smiled.

  “What? Are you gay?”

  David looked me straight in the eye as he swallowed his next mouthful of cucumber sandwich, “Yes...”

  “Oh...”

  “Is that a problem?”

  I shook my head, “No, not at all...Just...You know...When Piers and his friends were calling you gay...I just thought...Well, you know...I thought they were name calling. I didn’t realise they were stating actual fact. Not really any of my business...” There was an awkward pause, “I’m not, by the way...”

  David laughed,
“It’s okay, I’m not about to pounce on you. I kind of guessed you weren’t going by conversations we’ve been having! But...I mean...How do you know if you’ve never tried it?” I looked at him with a worried look on my face. He gave me a wink and suddenly responded by bursting out with laughter, “I’m messing...Jesus, should have seen your face.”

  “Yeah, good one...Okay...You got me...” I started to laugh; a delayed reaction.

  I didn’t care whether David was straight or gay. His sexual preferences were of no concern to me. Just because he was homosexual, it didn’t mean I couldn’t have him as a good friend and, sitting here with him in my first week, I felt lucky to consider him a buddy.

  “The story about you and Mr Fitzpatrick?” I asked when he had stopped laughing long enough for me to get a word in edgeways.