The Long Way Home

by Phillip Overton

  Chapter 13

  April 1984

  Simon made his way quietly towards the bus lines at the far end of the schoolyard. Mrs Grimstone had kept him back after class again, making sure he was the last student to leave the classroom after the bell had rung. ‘Why did he have to get her as a teacher?’ He asked himself, thinking he had seen the last of her when he had moved up to the senior side of school. As it turned out, she was there waiting as his grade three teacher, and she hadn’t forgotten Simon’s face from three years on junior playground duty. He’d always disliked her from his first year in kindergarten even though he had never had her as his teacher, up until now.

  He could see his bus line ahead, the schoolbags were lined up roughly in a row while some of the children sat amongst them talking, others were playing handball off to the side while they waited for the bus to arrive. Like Max Abbott and his older brother Christopher. They glared at him as he dropped his bag down at the end of the line.

  “Hey stupid, last again are you?” Max called out, raising a laugh from the group that were playing handball.

  Simon ignored him, he simply hated Max. He was bad enough in the junior primary, now that he was on the same side of the school as his older brother Christopher it was even worse. Chris was in grade five and together they made a game out of taunting Simon almost every recess and lunch break. It had cost him his friends. He would still get to play with Brian, Cameron and Craig if there was a group of other kids playing cricket in the playground, but when it came to the four of them hanging out together, they simply didn’t. The three others were scared of being picked on for simply being with him. To make matters worse, Max was in Mrs Grimstone’s class and sat directly behind Simon.

  “Simon!” A voice called from the front of the line, it was Brian. “I’ll see if I can save you a seat okay.”

  Simon gave him the thumbs up like he’d watched Fonzie do on Happy Days a million times and smiled. At least he had Brian as his best friend, the two of them still walked to and from the bus stop everyday and would hang out together every afternoon while they waited for Simon’s mum to come home from work.

  Thump! Suddenly Simon was knocked flat to the ground where he had been sitting, the impact sending him sprawling across the row of schoolbags until his face grazed hard against the asphalt playground. He looked up to see Max Abbott’s smirking face standing over him.

  “Hey! Watch where you’re sitting dork!” He barked at Simon who was still trying to get to his feet.

  Simon could see that Christopher and the rest of the group that had been playing handball had stopped playing and were hunched over from laughing that hard. Max had turned his back to Simon and was taking a bow before his audience. It had been a deliberate set up! He had meant solely to knock Simon over in front of everyone while pretending to dive for a loose ball.

  Simon looked over to where the teachers all stood some 20 metres away with their backs turned to what had just happened, eyes scanning up the street waiting for the next bus to approach. He saw his chance.

  Quickly getting to his feet he clenched his fist and belted Max hard in the back of his neck sending him crashing to his hands and knees! Without giving him any time to get up Simon set upon Max, pummeling his fists into any part of Max’s body he could. Smack! His fist connected hard with the side of Max’s face. Thump! Again he connected, this time into the side of his ribs followed by a hard punch into his guts knocking the wind clean out of him. Max tried to get up and fight back but simply couldn’t. Simon showed no mercy as he set loose with a volley of punches. Smack! Again he landed a clean punch, this time straight on his nose and immediately blood dribbled down the front of his shirt.

  “Fight, fight, fight, fight….” The chant went up from the large crowd of kids that now circled the two of them as they rumbled around on the asphalt. From all corners of the playground kids came running to see what was happening causing the teachers to erupt in a panic as they tried in vain to identify the trouble makers through the crowd.

  The next thing Simon remembered was being pulled to his feet by his hair. He whirled around just in time to see Christopher’s fist bearing down on his face. Whump! One direct hit was all it took to send Simon floundering backwards to the asphalt. He landed hard, his body rocking to and fro as he clutched his face reeling from the pain. Chris stepped back into the crowd momentarily as two teachers burst into the middle of the circle of kids that now swarmed Simon and Max.

  “What’s going on here?” Mr Nugget demanded as he stood over Simon and Max. He was a short, stocky man with balding hair and a beard but despite his size he spoke with a gruff, menacing voice.

  “Max are you alright?” Christopher stepped forward looking concerned for his brothers’ condition.

  Mr Nugget who was none the wiser as to what had actually happened turned to him and asked, “And just who might you be?”

  “I’m his brother, it was him who started it.” Chris said pointing directly at Simon. “I was looking for a teacher to get him to stop. He was picking on my brother for playing handball and then he just started fighting him, my brother was trying to get away and then…”

  “I’ve heard enough.” Mr Nugget said as he grabbed Simon by the arm and pulled him to his feet. “To the principal’s office, now!”

  “But my bus is here,” Simon protested as he saw his school bus pull up outside the school gates.

  “You don’t honestly think I’m going to let a little menace like you on the bus with innocent children do you? You can wait in the principal’s office until your parents come and collect you.” He said gruffly.

  “Everyone back into your bus lines please.” One of the other teachers yelled as they moved quickly to restore order.

  Over his shoulder he could see Christopher laughing at him as he gave Simon the finger before heading for where he had left his school bag. One of the female teachers was helping to wipe the blood off Max’s face with some tissues she had with her in her handbag while the other children slowly began to turn their backs on Simon and return to their bus lines.

  “Let’s go.” Mr Nugget started to drag Simon by the arm towards the two story main school building that watched silently over the playground. “I’m sure your parents are going to be thrilled to have to speak with the principal.”

  “Let me go!” Simon demanded as he tried to wriggle free from Mr Nugget’s grip. “It was his fault, I didn’t do anything.”

  “That’s not what it looked like to me young man.”

  “You weren’t even there.” Simon tried in vain to convince him. The thought of his mother getting mad at him for having to come to the principal’s office again was fast becoming a reality as they neared the red bricked building. A moment of panic seized Simon as he stopped dead in his tracks leaving Mr Nugget to struggle with his dead weight as he tried to tug him towards the office.

  “Keep it moving!” Mr Nugget barked at him.

  As Simon struggled, the teacher tried to get a better grip on him with his other hand. Sensing that any thought of escape was quickly disappearing, Simon stomped down hard on the teachers’ foot. With a grunt of protest, he wriggled free and was halfway across the playground before the teacher could take off in pursuit.

  “Hey quick, have a look at this!” Some of the children who had watched Simon being led away began excitedly trying to rouse the others interest once more as Simon raced towards them with a balding Mr Nugget chasing after him.

  “Stop right there, stop that boy!” The teacher yelled at no one in particular as he gained on Simon.

  Simon neared his school bag which still sat on the asphalt at the end of the bus line with Mr Nugget only about 10 metres behind him. His bus group was in the process of getting to their feet to begin filing their way out through the school gate and on to their waiting bus when a smiling Christopher sensing what was happening stepped forward. He stood ready to stop Simon if he tried to get on the bus leaving Simon no choice if he was going to escape. In one c
lean sweep, Simon reached down for his school bag and grabbing it by the handles swung it upward with all his might, directly into Chris’s face. It connected with full force, sending him flying over the top of the children sitting in the line beside him. The bag which was reasonably heavy from his homework and library books that were stuffed inside continued its outward swing. Just as Mr Nugget reached out to grab Simon by the shoulder, the bag appeared from nowhere and struck him fair across the side of the face.

  A collective gasp went up from the remaining kids in the playground. They watched in amazement as Mr Nugget lost his balance and swayed sideways before tripping on his own feet and crashing to the ground in front of them. It seemed the world stopped turning as everyone looked on in shocked silence. Even Christopher sat dumbfounded propped up on the asphalt while he watched the teacher topple over, brought to the ground by an 8 year old.

  “Run.” Someone whispered loudly to him from in the crowd.

  Looking frantically around him Simon couldn’t see any other alternative, so just as Mr Nugget started to look like he was going to get to his feet, that is exactly what he did. He ran! He ran past the rows of stunned children, still sitting silently with their mouths agape. Out of the schoolyard and down the road, past the playing fields next to the school until he reached the busy road that separated the school grounds from the water on the others side. Crossing quickly in between breaks in the traffic, he reached the park beside The Broadwater and hid behind one of the giant canary palms while he regained his breath. Looking back across the road, he couldn’t see a single person on the huge playing fields that now separated him from the school. Satisfied that he hadn’t been followed, he tried to think of what to do next. He stepped out from behind the giant palm tree and saw his school bus make a right hand turn into Dane Drive, faces pressed hard up against the window trying to see where he had gone, so he hid back behind the tree while it passed.

  “Stupid Max,” he said out loud. “It’s all his fault.” He turned and looked at the football stadium through the row of trees he now hid behind. ‘Maybe I should hide behind there while I think what to do next.’

  He followed the row of canary palms between The Broadwater and Graham Park football ground until he reached the rear of the grandstand. There was no one around so he sat down against the concrete wall.

  ‘I’m not going back to school, that would only make it worse.’ He thought. ‘I could walk home. It’s not very far, just the other side of that big hill across the railway tracks. Maybe the school has lost our phone number and Mum would never find out. Maybe I could go home and answer the phone myself if they ring and pretend to be my Dad, yeah that’d work.’

  Then the thought crossed his mind, there was no way they were not going to find out. His mother had given him the strap the last time she had to pick him up from school, even after the principal had already given him the cane across his hand. This time he had managed to get himself into a lot more trouble than the time he had placed an egg on Mrs Grimstone’s chair when she left the room and waited until she had returned and sat on it before making a noise like a chicken. He could still remember how red with rage she turned before she marched him by the ear to the principal’s office. Now he found himself in even more trouble. Even if they didn’t phone his mother tonight, tomorrow if he went back to school the principal and Mr Nugget would be waiting for him and he would get in trouble all over again.

  A short horn blast sounded, in front of him an electric train slowly made its way through the railway yard behind Graham Park before accelerating towards The Broadwater. A few moments later Simon could hear a roar like distant thunder as the train crossed the steel girder bridge that crossed the middle of The Broadwater and headed towards Sydney. He looked across at the row of brightly painted wooden passenger carriages on one of the tracks in the yard and the thought hit him. He would do what any 8 year old boy in his position would do, he would run away.

  Simon walked through the long grass that separated the rear of the football stadium from the railway yard and crossed the train tracks until he reached the row of passenger carriages sitting silently in the siding. The new paintwork disguised the fact that most of the carriages were actually older than his Dad. Mostly red with orange, yellow and white striping on the side they looked inviting on a late autumn afternoon. Simon swung his schoolbag over his shoulder and grabbed the handrails to help pull him up the steps. From ground height the carriage looked much bigger than he remembered them being on the platform when he used to go with his Dad to pick up his grandfather from the station. His feet found the steps beneath him as he climbed up to the height of the door. Once there he opened the door with ease and stepped inside. He checked first to see if anyone had seen him and satisfied that there was no one within sight of the railway yard he closed the door behind him.

  Walking through the small compartment where he had just entered, he slid the wood and glass door open and proceeded into the main sitting area of the carriage. He walked up the middle of the carriage passing row after row of dark green vinyl chairs until he reached the sliding door at the other end of the carriage. He passed through another small compartment and opened a door leading into the next carriage. This one was different to the first one. There was a corridor along one side of the windows, with a series of doors leading into individual compartments. Inside there were two bench seats facing each other and a luggage rack overhead. Simon walked to the compartment at the far end of the carriage and threw his schoolbag onto the floor.

  ‘Perfect,’ he thought to himself. ‘Now all I have to do is wait for the train to take me away from here. Somewhere I can find someone else to live with, somewhere exciting and I’ll never have to go to school again.’

  He slouched down into the seat in the cool of the afternoon. Outside, shadows were already beginning to fall across the highway out of town that paralleled this section of the railway line. Only a short distance away was the bus stop where he would get off for the long walk up the hill to his house. He lay back on the seat and gingerly felt the lump under his eye and found himself thinking of home, and of weekends with his Dad, Poppy and Uncle Barry. Before he could give a second thought as to whether or not he should go home, he fell asleep.