by Angela Mack
Joshua
“Fuck off and stare at someone else or I’ll rip your fucking head off.”
I watched the skinny, little runt duck his head and run off, desperate to escape my wrath. I looked around and glared at the other students in the corridor, daring them to continue staring. I smirked when I saw them all avert their eyes and scurry away or busy themselves. I knew why they were looking at me. I had a black eye, a busted lip and my eyebrow was split open. I was always getting into fights and to be fair, most of the students and teachers didn’t bat an eyelid anymore. But it was the beginning of a new year and the new students always stared. Until they learned the hard way that I didn’t like being gawked at.
The good thing about now being in sixth form was that I didn’t have to wear that godawful uniform. We were told to dress smart and that was it. For the first time, I wasn’t tugging at my tie and loosening my top button to breathe. I was kind of stretching the definition of ‘smart' though, choosing to wear black jeans, a black polo top and some black trainers. I wasn’t going to waste money buying poncey trousers or shirts. They didn’t fit me properly half the time anyway. The trousers were always too tight in the leg, and the shirts too tight across the chest or arms. I was pretty muscly for a seventeen-year-old, with thick thighs, broad shoulders and decent sized biceps. I worked out a lot. I had to be able to defend myself.
I had fifteen minutes before classes were due to start, so I strolled towards the sixth form common room. It was at the very back of Gilleford Secondary School, in a separate demountable building and away from the younger students. Although Gilleford Sixth Form College was part of the same campus, the sixth formers had their own designated areas. Apparently, we were morphing into adults now, so we were allowed the illusion of superiority; we didn’t have to mingle with the uniform dwellers.
The common room was a large, white, square block of a building. Single storey, with small square windows evenly spread out along all sides. It was nothing particularly inspiring. It was like they wanted to spend as little money as possible, so constructed the most basic building they could. There was a ramp to the left, winding up towards the central double doors, with steps on the right for a more direct route. Not in any hurry, I ambled up the ramp, letting my fingertips trail along the steel railing that ran alongside it. I caught glimpses of students as I passed the windows. They were sitting in groups and gossiping, no doubt exchanging stories about all the thrilling things they had been up to over the summer. Most of them looked happy to be back. Excited even. I couldn’t care less. I was just biding my time until I was eighteen and old enough to be legally considered an adult. Adults could make their own decisions without being judged. Adults didn’t have to answer to anyone.
I pushed open the doors and gave the equally dull and unimpressive interior a once-over. It was one open room with some navy-blue lockers lining the front wall. There were random clusters of furniture spread throughout, with mismatched chairs, sofas and tables. It was like a dumping ground for unwanted furniture. The floor was dark grey carpet, with sporadic thread-bare patches and colourful stains that I didn’t look too closely at. It was dimly lit, as if the person who designed the space knew that they wouldn’t want you scrutinising the room too much.
“Fuck, you look like shit, mate. Who did you piss off this time?” My one and only pal scrunched up his nose as he looked at my face. Ollie Boon was a fucking funny guy. He was quick-witted with a fucked-up sense of humour that always seemed to get him into trouble. He, like me, got into plenty of fights. He was always goading people and winding them up, knowing exactly what to say to get a rise out of them. He loved it and got a kick out of pissing people off. The bigger the reaction they gave him, the bigger he smiled.
Ollie was quite short for a bloke at about five foot eight inches, considerably shorter than my six foot two frame. But he could still hold his own. He was a quick motherfucker with an impressive right-hook. Together we had taken on people older and bigger and still managed to come out on top. He always had my back and I always had his.
“Who don’t I piss off, mate? You know me, I irritate the fuck out of people just by breathing,” I shrugged.
“Big Mike then?” Ollie asked me, giving me a knowing look. Big Mike was the one guy I could never beat in a fight. It wasn’t for lack of trying, trust me. But he wasn’t called Big Mike for nothing. I shrugged again, not wanting to talk about it.
“I tell you what, I am loving the whole ‘no uniform’ thing. Look at Lucy over there, her tits look amazing,” Ollie said. He gestured towards a petite brunette wearing a very tight, low-cut white blouse. She was sitting with around ten other students at the far back right of the common room. I shook my head at him, laughing. Ollie knew not to push me to talk about something I didn’t want to and was always good at changing the subject. More often than not, changing the subject always involved talking about girls.
Lucy clearly heard Ollie’s remark, he hadn’t exactly whispered it, as she turned and gave him the middle finger. Ollie blew her a kiss, causing her to frown, flick her hair over her shoulder and turn back to her conversation. Some other students had obviously overheard their exchange, glancing at us and smirking or rolling their eyes. They were used to Ollie's antics and loud opinions.
Whilst looking our way, I saw a few of them notice my face, their eyes widening. Most turned away pretty quickly, a few others shook their heads in disgust. I was used to being judged. Most people thought I started fights on purpose and that I enjoyed making trouble. And they were right most of the time. Big Mike had been particularly aggressive this last time though and I had a banging headache. Normally he avoided hitting me anywhere that would be visible to other people. Didn't want to get into trouble, I ‘spose. For whatever reason, I had annoyed him enough for him to forgo his usual rule.
I spied an empty wooden bench, the kind that you would usually expect to see outside in a park, and made my way over to it. I dumped my black backpack on top, unzipping it and starting to rifle through it. I always kept a pack of paracetamol in there. Ollie followed me over, sitting on the tabletop and letting his feet rest on the part you would usually sit on.
“What A Levels did you sign up to?” he asked, watching me rifle through my bag.
“P.E., business studies and art,” I replied. I had picked the easiest subjects I could. I wasn't planning on using them for any kind of career. I didn’t kid myself. I knew I wasn’t going to university and I wouldn’t have some highly paid, hotshot job waiting for me afterwards. I wouldn’t have even bothered coming back to sixth form if I didn’t have to, but someone would notice if I wasn't continuing my education in any way at all. I couldn't afford to draw attention to myself like that. I knew Ollie was going to sixth form and if I was going to be stuck in education, might as well be with my mate. Unlike me, Ollie was intelligent and had big plans for going to university and escaping this shithole town.
Back in the early days of secondary school, our teachers had been surprised that Ollie was so clever. It wasn’t typical for a boy from our neighbourhood with a penchant for violence to actually have half a brain. But no matter how many lessons he skipped or how often he ended up in detention, he usually achieved As. Especially maths. He was a whizz kid when it came to numbers. He had signed up for A Levels as soon as possible, whereas I had only applied last week. I had somehow convinced the Head to allow me to come back on short notice and with my mediocre GCSE grades.
“What about you?” I asked, finally locating the pack of painkillers.
“Maths, business studies and…”
“Ah fuck…” I interrupted him. “Fucking packet is empty.” I massaged my forehead, cursing myself for not thinking to put a new pack in my bag after using the last one up. I didn’t think I’d make it through the whole day without some kind of pain relief.
“You got any paracetamol or ibuprofen on you?” I asked Ollie, even though I knew what the answer would be.
“You know I’m not a pussy like yo
u, I never need that crap,” Ollie grinned at me. Cheeky shit. I growled, frustrated with myself. I really did not fancy going to classes with the pain throbbing through my head right now. I contemplated skipping my first class to go to the shop down the road from school. I worked there part-time and Tracy, the assistant manager and Ollie’s mum, would likely give me a couple of boxes for free. I could get there and back in twenty minutes, so I wouldn't miss much.
“Here, I’ve got some.” I heard a chair scrape back as a girl balanced her chair on its back legs. She stretched over towards me, holding out a box of paracetamol. She and her friends were sitting in a selection of random chairs not far from where Ollie and I were sitting. I hadn’t paid them any attention when I walked over and they hadn’t seemed to notice us either. Now though, her friends had both stopped talking, waiting to see how I would react. I didn’t exactly have a reputation for being friendly and often snapped at people for no reason. The girl sitting next to her was shocked, her eyes so wide I thought they might pop out of their sockets.
“Well, do you want some?” the girl said, shaking the box at me when I didn’t respond straight away. I looked at her and she gave me a small smile. Isabel Johnson. Her name flicked into my brain. We had been at the same school for years, but I had never been in any classes with her. I’m pretty sure this was the first time she’d ever spoken to me, even though I knew she worked in the florist next door to the shop I worked in. I’d seen her enter the florist early every Saturday morning as I walked to work. She had never once made any effort to even look at me, let alone say hello. She seemed rather stuck up, if I’m honest. I had no interest in talking to her. We had absolutely zero in common and I knew she came from a well-off part of town. That didn’t mean I couldn’t admire her from a distance though.
She had long reddish-brown hair that was dead straight, falling to the middle of her back. She was slim but not skinny. Her tits were probably a B or C cup. She peered up at me now, her bright green eyes staring at me expectantly. She was pretty stunning really. But it fucked me off that she had always acted as if I was invisible and now all of a sudden, she wanted to chat? Yeah, alright. She could do one.
The bell rang, signifying five minutes until classes started. Everyone around us started standing up and grabbing their things, including Isabel’s friends. I still hadn’t given her an answer and her friends called her name, turning towards the door to go. She let her chair fall back down flat on the ground with a thump and stood up. Woah, she’s tall for a girl. I hadn’t noticed before, but she was only a few inches shorter than me. I could appreciate her figure even more now up close too. Her long legs were squeezed into black skinny jeans and she wore a plain black, long-sleeved t-shirt. Her outfit was nothing special, but on her, it looked great. Effortless. She clearly wasn't particularly bothered about dressing smartly either.
Isabel opened the box of painkillers, took a packet out and slid it across the bench to me.
“You look like you need these more than me,” she smiled again, bending down to pick up her belongings. I scowled at her and her smile slipped a little. She placed the now half-empty box back in her black leather handbag and slung it over her shoulder. I watched as she walked out the doors of the common room, joining her friends that were hovering outside.
“Why the fuck didn’t you say something to her, you arsehole? Someone was actually being nice to you for a change and you looked at her as if she was a piece of shit.” Ollie punched me in the shoulder, shaking his head at me. I shrugged again.
“Just playing the part, dickhead. Can’t have people thinking I’m suddenly a nice guy,” I replied. I snatched the paracetamol Isabel left behind, popping three in my mouth. I swallowed them down dry, grateful that I didn’t have to walk to the shop after all.
“You’re a knob. Come on, I don’t want to be late for my first maths lesson.” Ollie jumped off the table, making the nearby windows shudder as he thumped down. This ‘building’ really was a cheap pile of shit.
“And you’re such a nerd. I don’t want to be late for maths,” I mimicked in a high-pitched voice. Ollie grinned at me as he skipped towards the exit. He was an oddball. I smiled to myself as I followed him. Despite having a shitty summer and an even shittier weekend, I found my mood improving. Besides, it was better being here than being stuck at home.
Chapter 3
Isabel
I don’t know what I was thinking. Why, oh why, did I think it was a good idea to try and talk to Joshua Bugg? I didn’t really know him, but I knew of his reputation. He certainly wasn’t someone to mess with.
“Izzy, have you gone completely mad? What the fuck was that?” Jess asked me as we hurried down the common room steps towards one of the main buildings. I didn’t know how to respond. I guess I got caught up in playing my new 'character.' When I'd overheard someone complaining about not having any paracetamol, instead of ignoring them and trying to stay invisible, I thought sod it and reached for my own supply. I always kept some on me, having frequently suffered with migraines and headaches. My doctor said they were stress related.
When I stretched back to offer the box, I had no idea it was Joshua that had been talking. I had kind of frozen, smiling a little awkwardly to try and break the tension. Predictably, he had given me a thunderous look. But then again, anyone that had taken that kind of beating would likely be super cranky too. His left eye was almost swollen shut and there was some dried blood in his eyebrow above it. I bet it hurt like a bitch. His lip looked terrible too. It was as if someone had given him a huge dose of Botox.
I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, something new I was also trying out this year, and give him half of the paracetamol anyway. I then scurried away as quickly as possible, my earlier bravery completely dissipating after he didn’t even say thank you.
“I didn’t realise it was him. I was trying to be helpful,” I said sheepishly.
“I know you’re trying to come out of your shell more this year but jeez, talking to Joshua is an easy way to attract trouble." Jess' high heels clacked on the polished wooden floor as we entered the humanities building. She wanted to study fashion at university and definitely looked the part today. She was wearing a tight black skirt, white frilly blouse and very high, black shiny shoes. Being so tall, I never wore heels. Ever. I had noticed that quite a few of the boys had caught up to my five foot eleven inches over the summer (some even over-taking me, to my great delight). Unsurprisingly, most of the girls were still way off and I knew it would stay that way. I often felt like a giant next to Jess and Sophie and loved it when Jess wore heels. She was still only up to my shoulders wearing them, but it made me feel a little better.
“Well, I think it was nice of her. I’d have definitely been too scared to do it myself, but his face looked awful. No wonder he needed some pain relief,' Sophie said, smiling reassuringly at me.
“Woah, woah, woah, hang on. His face did not look awful. If anything, the bruising just added to the whole ‘bad boy’ image he’s got going on. He still looked gorgeous,” Jess said, as Sophie and I rolled our eyes at each other. Jess loved boys. She was a big flirt and with her looks, she got a lot of attention.
Not that I disagreed with her. Joshua was definitely hot. He was taller than me, which was a big plus in my book, and had an incredible body. You could tell he lived in the gym; I don’t think there was an ounce of fat on him. His hair was so dark it was almost black. It was short on the sides and back but longer and mussed on top, as if he was forever running his fingers through it. He had a very chiselled jawline and I hadn't noticed before today, but he had coffee brown eyes. If he wasn't carrying such a chip on his shoulder and he wasn’t always scowling, he would be even better looking.
“I don’t know what all the fuss is about. He doesn’t look like anything special to me." A boy fell into step next to Jess, bumping her shoulder fondly.
"Hi Ed," she smiled up at him. I was pretty sure Sophie had mentioned a guy in their classes last year called Ed
, who had a big crush on Jess. Although he was trying to appear playful, you could still see the jealous glint in his eye.
I was the only one that had a class in the humanities building, but you could get to almost every other building by cutting through it. This building was a lot older than the rest of the school, being the first one erected when it opened in the 1950s. It had large arched windows, high ceilings and ornate brickwork. The library was in the very heart of the building and was my favourite place to be when at school. I had spent many lunch times alone in there, seeking safety and isolation. This building felt comforting to me. The other buildings had been added as the number of pupils expanded over time. The campus now consisted of five different buildings, but the others were all square and boxy. Nothing as architecturally interesting as this one.
“See you at break?” Sophie said as I arrived outside of my history class. I had chosen mostly the same A Levels as Sophie, so I knew I’d have at least one friend in the majority of my classes. She had chosen biology, chemistry and maths. She regularly helped out on her family's farm and was dead set on becoming a vet. I, on the other hand, had no idea what I wanted to do for a career. It had been hard enough thinking about enduring the rest of school, let alone what to do after it. I enjoyed science so I felt comfortable choosing biology and chemistry too. However, I hated maths with a passion, so my third choice was history. I was anxious about not knowing who else was in the class, but I was feeling cautiously optimistic. I was just grateful that they had let me in the Sixth Form in the first place; I had barely made the minimum entry requirements. And even then, I think they would have happily booted me out if they hadn’t been so under-subscribed. Luckily for me, they needed as many students as possible to maximise their government funding.
“Sure thing,” I smiled as my friends walked off towards their classes, Ed following like a lost puppy. Watching them leave, I felt like pinching myself. I actually had friends again.
