by Sarah Bailey
He insisted on coming with when Tamara drove me home. We didn’t talk but he watched me the entire way as if he had a hard time looking away. I didn’t understand this boy at all, but somehow that was beginning not to matter. Somehow, I desperately wanted to believe him when he said I was his friend. And somehow, I wanted him to be my friend too.
Chapter Seven
The first sign when I got in the front door that things were not well was the silence. Usually, my mum had the TV on. I’d made her up a bed on the sofa last night since my dad hadn’t been home and she couldn’t walk upstairs by herself. This morning I’d given her breakfast before I went to school as he hadn’t been up yet. Now I knew he was home. I could feel his presence like a black cloud settling over the house.
He came out of the kitchen with a can of beer in his hand. His eyes roamed over me with disgust.
“Where the fuck have you been?”
I wanted to run back outside and hide. His temper flared between us. I held onto the straps of my backpack as if it could save me.
“A friend’s house,” I told him in a small, shaky voice.
Right now, I could use a friend. I pictured Aaron’s smile and it bolstered me a little.
“When the fuck did you get friends?”
“At school. Didn’t Mum tell you?”
A scowl etched itself on his features.
“Probably. Fuck knows. She’s asleep. You should’ve told me she hurt herself.”
Anything I said in response might result in him taking his anger out on me, so I kept my mouth shut. My dad was a mean drunk. Usually, he didn’t direct his anger at me, but on occasion, he used his fists. Told me it was my fault my mother was disabled now. My fault he had to take care of her. My fault he had to go elsewhere for pussy. I hadn’t understood what he meant the first time he said it. When I asked Mum, it horrified her he’d said such a thing to me. Whilst she explained what it was, she told me not to say it. It was rude to talk about girls in that way. I told her not to worry as I had no interest in girls and their pussies. I had no interest in boys either. I just had no real interest in anyone.
Graham King was a nasty man. I hated him. But what I hated him the most for was the times he told me he wished I’d never been born. I hadn’t told Mum about that. It would only upset her.
“Go to your room, boy.”
I hurried to the stairs and stumbled up them in my effort to get away from him. At least he’d decided not to have a go at me. It hadn’t been my fault Mum fell over. I’d helped her as best I could. You could never tell what type of mood Graham would be in when he was at home. It’s why I only came out of my room when he was out or at dinner time.
I checked in on Mum before I went to my bedroom. He’d obviously carried her upstairs. She was still asleep, so I dashed towards my bedroom and shut my door behind me.
Setting my bag on my bed after flipping the bedside light on, I unzipped it and pulled out the book Aaron insisted I borrow. I stroked my fingers down the cover. Then I set it by my pillow. I changed for bed and brushed my teeth. Mum never gave me a set bedtime but it was seven already. Huddling up in the covers, I started reading, happy to get lost in the pages for a while. I was so lost in the words, I almost didn’t hear shouting, but the loud noises jolted me out of the book.
“What the fuck are you doing letting our boy out so late for?” my dad’s voice rang through the house.
I dropped the book down on the bed and crept towards my bedroom door, cracking it open a little.
“He wasn’t out late, Grey,” came Mum’s muffled voice.
“He should be fucking here with you.”
“He deserves a life and friends. He’s just a child.”
I flinched, hating they were arguing over me again because I knew what would come next.
“That little shit stole your fucking life, Steph. He should be here making sure you’re looked after.”
“Don’t say that! Don’t you dare say that about Rhys! He’s our son. Our son! You should love that boy.”
I heard footsteps stomping around their bedroom. Tears pricked at my eyes, but I held them back. I would not cry over Graham King. I’d never cry over that man’s words ever again.
“How can I love him? He left you fucking crippled. We don’t have a fucking life together anymore.”
“Whose fault is that? Don’t think I don’t see the looks everyone gives me. Poor Steph King, her boy left her unable to do a thing. Poor Steph King, her husband can’t even stay faithful. Poor Steph King, she lives with a deadbeat drunk who puts his hands on her.”
“You fucking bitch.”
I heard a loud thump. A tear fell unbidden. I shut my door, turned out my bedside light and crawled under my covers, burying my face in the pillow to stifle my sobs. I knew what he’d done. He’d hit her again. Just like he always did when they argued. And there was nothing I could do. If I went in there to help her, he’d hit me too. Mum warned me never to get involved. She made me promise and I always kept my promises to her. Always. No matter how much it pained me. No matter how much I wished I could stop him from hurting her.
Mum had been having so many good days recently. She’d not had issues with her speech or her movements. Her falling over and Dad beating her would surely set her back. I dreaded waking up tomorrow knowing she would have more bruises and probably not want to get out of bed. It would make it worse knowing I’d have to go to school since she never let me skip to take care of her.
I had to be a good boy for her. Do what she said so she could be proud of me. My mum was the only person in this world who loved me. No one else could. No one else wanted to. I wasn’t crying over the fact my dad didn’t love me. I didn’t care about him any longer. I might live under his roof, but I’d lost all respect for him when he first hit Mum. He wasn’t a father to me, he was a mean drunk.
It took a long time for me to stop crying, feeling stupid and weak for having emotions. I didn’t like to show them to anyone. Not even Mum. Only when I was alone and I couldn’t take it any longer. The pain wrecked and ruined me. Made me want to disappear. But I wouldn’t. Mum wouldn’t have anyone else if I wasn’t here. I stayed for her. Only for her. She was my only reason for living.
And if you weren’t here, you wouldn’t be able to see his smile any longer.
Thoughts of that boy came without warning. Why was he in my head? I didn’t want to see him tomorrow. He’d probably notice something was wrong with me. More than usual. Aaron seemed to notice everything about me and I didn’t like it. I didn’t like that he could see me. I hated it. It made me feel strange. And I didn’t like feeling at all. Not when it came to people other than Mum.
So thoughts of him could go away. They needed to leave. Except they wouldn’t because deep down, I wanted him to see me. I wanted him to ask me what was wrong. I wanted him to force me into telling him about my mum and dad. To have someone to confide in about how it cut me so deep when they argued over me. How it destroyed me when he hurt her. How it ruined me knowing he hated me as much as she loved me.
I wouldn’t tell him though. Those secrets were mine to keep. No one could know about it. No one could see. If anyone knew how much he hurt her, if they knew he hurt me, then they might try to take me away from my mum. Social Services had taken a baby away from two parents on the estate as they were drug addicts. I had to be here for her. I had to. There was no other choice. So I had to keep my mouth shut. No matter how much it ached. No matter how much I desperately wanted to tell someone so they could share my burden. So they could understand why I was so quiet and withdrawn. So perhaps someone could finally see me.
Alone in bed, surrounded by the dark, I allowed myself to wish for those things I couldn’t have. I allowed myself to imagine what it’d be like to have a real friend. And I let myself believe maybe that friend was Aaron. Maybe he wouldn’t judge me. Maybe he’d hug me and tell me it was going to be okay. He’d be here for me. He’d keep my secrets. He�
�d never tell anyone else the truth.
I wished I could let him be my friend… but I couldn’t. Risking everything for someone I barely knew would only end in more pain. And having had a lifetime of it, I wasn’t sure I could go through more. I was already broken. If I widened the cracks, there’d be nothing left but tiny pieces of myself I’d never be able to put back together.
So I placed my wishes and hopes in a locked vault, steeling myself against the onslaught of tomorrow when I was sure he’d try to break that vault wide open. I had to stay strong. I had to be resolute.
I couldn’t let Aaron in.
I couldn’t.
I just… couldn’t.
Chapter Eight
I dreaded the moment we got out of the car and were alone. Kids walking through the school gates would be surrounding us, but we’d still be without another person watching over us like Tamara was as she drove.
Mum had stayed in bed this morning so I didn’t see how badly my dad had beat her. I didn’t dare go in their room when he was still there. Not after what he said last night. Besides, waking him up after he’d got drunk the night before was never a good idea. Graham King would hit the roof and then I’d be in trouble. Something I didn’t need on top of everything else.
I could feel the weight of Aaron’s stare bearing down on me. It’s as if he’d zoned in on me and I would never escape. A part of me didn’t want to, but I’d pushed that part in the vault. It was going to stay there forever. It belonged there.
We were at school far too soon. I slid out of the car, knowing facing him was coming.
Be strong, Rhys, you can be strong.
Could I? I felt like a weak, worthless piece of dirt most days. One who couldn’t protect the only person he loved.
Aaron waved to Tamara before she pulled away. I started walking towards the gates. He caught up to me within a moment. I almost flinched, waiting for him to say something, but he didn’t. He walked alongside me without making a sound. His silence spoke for him. Like a loud drum banging in my ear. It said it’s okay, I know you’re hurting and I’m here if you need me.
My heart ached. My lungs burnt. All the scenarios I’d played out in my head over and over again paled in comparison to his quiet support. And it made me want to burst into tears all over again. Made me want to reach out and let him hold my hand. I didn’t. If anyone saw, I’d likely get called gay boy again and I didn’t want anyone calling him that either. Kids could be mean as hell when they wanted. When they didn’t understand.
I didn’t care if a boy liked other boys. What difference did it make to me? Mum taught me to be respectful and that everyone was an individual and could love whoever they wanted. I just wished she didn’t love Dad.
Aaron and I sat at our usual desk together. It’d become a routine. Every lesson. Like we were inseparable. We weren’t, even if he rarely left me alone at school. I think he felt like it was his responsibility to protect me from bullies like Valentine who hadn’t come near me since the first day of school. And secretly, I appreciated his presence.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
For some reason, I felt compelled to express my gratitude towards him for not pestering me with questions this morning. His blue-grey eyes were stormy today. Whilst I disliked seeing him sad or frustrated, the colour was so striking. I stared into them as he cocked his head to the side.
“I don’t know what you’re thanking me for but you’re welcome.”
His expression told me he was waiting for me to elaborate, but I couldn’t explain it to him. That just by being here, he made me feel less… alone. I didn’t know how else to show him I needed him even when I pushed him away. How had this boy I’d known such a short time become so important to me? If he wasn’t here, wasn’t pestering me, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.
The vault cracked under the intensity of my feelings and his gaze. It cracked. How could my locked vault crack?
“I’m not going to be a very good friend to you but thank you for seeing me as one anyway.”
Where did that come from? Why have you suddenly got word vomit?
Those eyes I kept needing to stare at softened. They turned into pools of pure happiness. The sight blew me away. I don’t know why but it just did. He did. And then the moment was lost as the teacher started talking. I jerked my gaze towards the whiteboard, aware staring at him was probably unwise.
I felt the slight brush of fingers against mine under the table. Glancing at Aaron under my lashes, I found him smiling to himself. He kept winning every single time. Every silent battle we had. And I let him.
Another crack appeared in my vault. This one bigger and more pronounced. Aaron hadn’t moved his fingers from mine. Hadn’t stopped touching me. They felt like an anchor keeping me afloat. Keeping me breathing whilst everything around me tried to take me under so I’d drown. That’s what kept happening to me. I kept drowning. Every time I fought to get back to the surface. Every time I took a little gasp of air as my head broke through the surface of the water, the tendrils would catch hold of my feet, wrapping around my ankles and tugging. I could never stay afloat. Never.
Until him.
Until this.
Until us.
I did something so out of character it was as if watching myself from above. Like my body moved without my say so, acting on instinct rather than command.
I caught hold of his hand, tugging it onto my leg and slid my fingers into his. I saw him let out a sharp breath, his lungs expanding in his chest. And when he inhaled again, I watched him. It rendered me completely unable to look away from the blonde-haired boy who I couldn’t deny I wanted to be friends with any longer.
The vault shattered. Every thought, every feeling came flooding out. I clenched my jaw shut tight, worried it’d all spill out into the open then I’d be in trouble with the teacher for talking in lesson.
Aaron hadn’t done anything. He’d barely said a word and yet I was helpless against the vortex sucking me into his sphere. Of all the ways in which I’d envisioned this happening, nothing could prepare me for the way my heart raced as he squeezed my fingers, his eyes flicking to mine and the small, secret smile he gave me.
I might not be able to confess my secrets to Aaron, but I could try to be his friend.
Couldn’t I?
Chapter Nine
“You haven’t told me how the book is yet.”
The weekend had come and gone. I’d spent it looking after Mum so hadn’t done much reading except before bed. My dad had left food in the fridge and had gone to Maggie’s. I was glad he hadn’t been at home. Mum spent the entire time in bed as she wasn’t doing well. Her speech had become impaired again, which upset me, but I tried not to show it. She had horrible bruises on her stomach from where Dad had hit her. Seeing her like that had me crying into my pillow when I tried to go to sleep. Wishing so much I had someone to share this burden with.
Aaron and I sat in the canteen, cloistered away in a corner together with our lunches.
“I’m only halfway.”
“And?”
“I like it.”
He nudged my hand.
“Just like?”
“What’s not to like about a boy with magical powers?”
He grinned. Whilst we hadn’t talked much since the day I’d held his hand in class, there seemed to be a newfound understanding between us. I didn’t mind his insistence on getting to know me any longer. And it made him happy. At least, I thought it had.
“Can I ask you something?”
“I guess so.”
I dug into my cottage pie, waiting for him to speak again.
“Your mum looks young.”
“She’s twenty-six.”
Mum told me what happened to her during her pregnancy was rare. They got married when she was eighteen and she fell pregnant with me not long afterwards. Dad had been ten years older than her when they met. She told me he was good to her back then, but
things had changed as I got older and he became her carer.
“Mine are in their thirties. They had me late, according to my mum.”
“Are they coming back soon?”
He shrugged, fiddling with his fork.
“Tamara says yes, but they’re always away for work. I don’t see them much.”
“What do they do?”
I knew they had a lot of money, but he hadn’t volunteered any further information about them. It’s almost as if Aaron wasn’t keen on talking about his parents. I didn’t know why, but I never pressed him on the subject.
“Dad owns a publishing house and a production studio he bought for Mum as she’s a director. My grandparents come from money. I don’t like going around their house. I’m afraid I’ll break Grandma’s Ming vases she collects.”
I couldn’t begin to work out exactly how much money his family must have, only it had to be a lot.
“Are they millionaires?”
Aaron laughed.
“Probably.”
“And you’re hanging out with me?”
He gave me an odd look.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
Your parents are rich and mine are poor.
“You don’t care that I live somewhere you might get stabbed if you look at someone wrong?”
He shook his head and nudged my hand again.
“No, Rhys, I don’t care. I like you. The rest doesn’t matter. Wait, does that actually happen? People getting stabbed?”
I nodded. A little part of me jumped for joy hearing him say he liked me. I didn’t understand why when he barely knew me but trying to figure Aaron out was difficult at times.
“Mum says there are gangs in our estate. The police are always around. My street is okay though, mostly families.”
