Graham - Young Adult

Words 499

   ‘Harding,’ Stinky’s voice oozed sarcasm, ‘perhaps you would favour the rest of the class with your aperçus on the Roman experience in pre-Christian Britain.’

   James tilted his book to obscure his phone. 

   ‘Erm, it wasn’t much fun, Sir.’

   ‘Indeed, now pay attention.’

Stinky was now paying him too much attention so he scribbled the note to Dave, ‘2 – 0 at half time’, and passed it behind his back.

                                                                                                        *

Half an hour later they were laughing with relief.

    ‘Your mum would have killed you,’ Dave said and suddenly stopped, ‘Shit, I’ve left my gym bag in Stinky’s.’

    ‘Go on, I’ll wait.’

    ‘No, Killer’s in there. You know what he did to me last time.’

    Dave had gone pale. Killer Thompson was three years above them and had once beat a small dog to death outside the school gates.

    ‘You wuss, I’ll get it,’ James said turning back to the class.

He was a second year and expected some sort of ragging, but he was quick. Stinky wasn’t there and the next class were still finding their seats. Two girls giggled.

    ‘Oh look, isn’t he cute.’

    ‘I’m going to take him home as a pet.’ 

He had just lifted the bag when a large hand grabbed his hair and twisted. A face of pure evil looked down at him.

    ‘Yeah, a little doggie. What do we do with doggies?’ A group of fifth year thugs surrounded him. Killer’s other hand grasped his little finger and tore the hand from the bag.

    ‘I just want the bag,’ James’s embarrassment had turned to throbbing anger but there was nothing he could do. Killer was now bending the little finger back.

    ‘Say please.’

That was when James made his mistake. 

    ‘Please can I have my bag,’ he said, but in a sing-song parody of someone in fear.

    One of the boys sniggered. Killer shot him a look and jerked James’s finger up. He felt a blunt spasm of pain that grew exponentially as Killer pushed the damaged joint upwards.

    ‘Right, sit down.’ Stinky called from the door. ‘Harding, what are you doing here?’

    ‘Sorry sir, just fetching my bag.’ He hurried out, holding back hot tears.
                                                            
                                                                                               *
They were taking a shortcut through the old goods yard.

    ‘God, it looks like a sausage. He must have broken it.’

    ‘Nah.’ His finger throbbed with pain, but James shook his head, ‘It’ll be all right tomorrow.’

    ‘Wait,’ Dave pulled him back behind a stack of pallets, ‘that’s Stinky’s car.'

    ‘What’s he doing here?’

    There was someone else with him. They watched in silence as a struggle developed in the car and the second head disappeared below the window.

    After what seemed like an age the passenger door opened and they saw a school uniform. The boy turned in their direction his head hung low. Dave looked at James and gasped. It was Killer. He walked towards the exit and pushed something into his pocket. James just stared after him, his jaw set and his eyes blazing.