The Day I Was Erased

by Lisa Thompson

  “You’d better be careful, Maxwell. You don’t want to miss Jed and Baz and the chance to get on the TV,” whispered Charlie.

  I snorted.

  “I won’t. And anyway, they won’t stop me going to the ball after everything I’ve done for the school.”

  The school owed me big time for a competition I’d won back in Year Seven. I crossed my arms and Charlie pulled a face.

  He didn’t look so sure.

  The bell rang and Charlie and I got up and made our way to our first lesson, which was PE. It was my favourite subject and Charlie’s worst. I’d missed a lot of sports lessons this term for mucking about, but in the last couple of weeks I’d been allowed back in the class again. Mrs Allen, the teacher, had started teaching us how to play tennis and we all stood around her on the multi-surface pitch with our rackets ready. I kept spinning mine on its head but she gave me a stern look, so I stopped.

  “Remember what we learnt last week, 8A: the key to holding your racket correctly is to feel like you are shaking someone’s hand,” said Mrs Allen. “Now get into pairs, hold the racket out for your partner and let them find the correct grip.”

  I could see Charlie making his way towards me. We always stuck together in PE because, basically, no one else wanted to be with either of us. I messed around too much and Charlie was just useless. He couldn’t even catch a ball. He grinned at me and held a racket out for me to “shake”. I was getting fed up being stuck with him all the time; he was such a doughnut. I snatched the racket off him.

  “Oww. No need to be so rough, Maxwell,” he said, rubbing his hand. “Now hold out yours.”

  I huffed and pointed the racket handle towards him, but every time he went to take it I moved it away. His reflexes were so slow, there was no way he was going to get hold of it.

  “Oh, now … come on, Maxwell,” he said, laughing. I kept moving the racket so it was just out of his reach. He frowned and tried to second-guess which way I was going to go but he was wrong every single time.

  “Are you trying to work out a scientific calculation, Charlie?” I said, as I darted the racket left and right. “Come on, there must be some formula or something that you can compute in that big brain of yours.”

  Charlie wasn’t laughing any more and his face was running with sweat. He was snorting through his nose, his eyes fixed on the racket handle.

  “That’s enough, Maxwell,” shouted Mrs Allen from across the court. I paused for a moment but started again as soon as she’d turned around.

  “Come on, Charlie. You can do it!” said a girl called Amy Branford. A few others saw something was going on and wandered over. I kept darting the racket from side to side, up and down, and Charlie failed to grab it every time.

  “Concentrate!” said Marcus Grundy. “Try and work out which way he’s going to go.”

  Charlie stopped for a moment and looked at him. Marcus Grundy was giving him advice? I couldn’t believe it either.

  “Well, go on then!” said Marcus, chewing on the side of his thumb.

  Charlie went to grab the racket and I quickly moved it again.

  “Ooooh, you nearly got it!” squealed Tabitha Wright.

  Everyone was watching. Mrs Allen was busy moving a basket of balls over to the opposite end of the courts. Someone began a slow handclap and the others joined in.

  “Char-lie! Char-lie! Char-lie!”

  I could see Mrs Allen turn and start making her way over with her hands on her hips.

  “Come on, you can do it!”

  “Just grab it, Charlie!”

  “Don’t let him beat you!”

  I couldn’t believe it – they were all on his side!

  “What is going on here?” boomed Mrs Allen, and the chanting fizzled out.

  I turned around and Charlie reached for the racket and yanked it out of my hand. The crowd went crazy, cheering and clapping.

  “But … but I’d stopped!” I shouted. “He didn’t get it fairly – he just grabbed it when I stopped!”

  “Face it, Maxwell. You’re a loser,” said Marcus, inches from my face.

  “Yeah, he won it fair and square,” said Sanjeev Howe.

  A few other kids were doing the L-on-the-forehead thing at me.

  Charlie was grinning, clutching his racket to his chest as everyone applauded and patted him on the back.

  “That didn’t count!” I yelled again.

  I went to take the racket off him but he was hugging it like it was his precious teddy bear.

  “Let go, Charlie, and we can have another go, yeah? Best of three?” I said.

  I didn’t want to be humiliated, especially by him.

  “That’s enough now,” said Mrs Allen, but I kept wrestling. “I said that’s enough! Everyone get back into your pairs!”

  Charlie’s hands were gripped tightly around the racket and I tried to prise his fingers off, one by one.

  “Get off me!” he said.

  “Maxwell Beckett, if you don’t leave Charlie alone this very minute, you’ll be getting the biggest negative point you can possibly imagine!”

  I looked round at Mrs Allen. Her eyes were bulging and her nostrils were flared. Everyone was silent, waiting to see what I’d do next. I could hear Charlie sniffling behind me. Mrs Allen walked over to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

  “Come on, Charlie. Let’s get you paired up with someone else, shall we?”

  I couldn’t believe it. I’d even lost Charlie as a partner. Everyone was looking at me with disgust in their eyes. Mrs Allen put Charlie with Kelly Matterson and Tabitha Wright. Kelly put her arm around him and whispered something which made him laugh. I tried to look casual about it but there was clearly no one left to pair up with me. As they all started shaking hands with their rackets again, I walked towards the basket on long legs and gave it a great big kick. The basket came crashing down and hundreds of yellow tennis balls cascaded out and bounced around the court.

  “Maxwell Beckett! Pick those all up, right now!” screamed Mrs Allen.

  I huffed and slowly walked towards the balls that were rolling around. At least it gave me something to do now that I didn’t have a partner.

  “OK, everyone,” said Mrs Allen. “I want you to grab a ball and practise bouncing it up and down on your racket, like so…” Mrs Allen demonstrated and then everyone rushed over and grabbed a ball from the floor.

  I looked over at Charlie and watched him. He couldn’t even keep the ball on the flat racket, let alone hit it up and down. If he’d been partnered with me I’d have got frustrated and shouted at him to do it properly. Now he was surrounded by the rest of the class, who suddenly thought he was brilliant, he looked like he was having a great time.

  “Maxwell, come on. Those balls aren’t going to put themselves in the basket,” yelled Mrs Allen as I stood there watching everyone.

  Charlie dropped his ball again and lumbered after it, laughing as he went.

  I turned away. A ball rolled towards my foot so I bent down and CRACK. My head smashed against something soft. I looked up and saw Charlie’s face. Or rather, Charlie’s hands covering his face.

  “Owwwww!!!” he cried. “My nose! My nose!”

  I put my hand on his shoulder.

  “Sorry! I didn’t see you. I was just getting the ball!” I said.

  Charlie’s eyes peering over the top of his hands. A gush of blood was pouring down his arm.

  “Miss! Miss!” shouted Kelly. “Maxwell headbutted Charlie!”

  Mrs Allen rushed over.

  “I didn’t! I didn’t mean to!” I shouted. “We just went for the ball at the same time!”

  I looked back at Charlie who was peeking over his hands at me.

  “Charlie! Tell them it was an accident. Tell them!”

  He took his hands away from his face, his arms now crimson with blood, and then his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he fell to the floor with a great THUD.

  I think I’m definitely right when I say that a nosebleed c
an look a whole lot worse than it actually is. But that didn’t stop everyone in my class from freaking out.

  Mrs Allen told Adel Barnes to go to the office for help. Adel nodded, rolled up his sleeves, then sprinted off like he was some kind of superhero going to save the world. Charlie was out cold on the ground, his chin rosy-red like he’d just been stuffing his face with a massive bowl of juicy cherries. Mrs Allen put him into the recovery position which I think was a bit over the top, to be honest. Someone started crying at that point and then Marcus piped up: “Is he dead, Miss?”

  Mrs Allen stood up.

  “No, Marcus. Don’t be ridiculous. He’s just fainted, that’s all. Now, everyone move back. Give him some air… He’s going to be fine…”

  Sanjeev started retching and Kelly rubbed his back.

  “I didn’t do anything wrong, Miss. Honestly,” I pleaded.

  Mrs Allen was about to say something when Charlie began to groan. She bent down and helped him into a sitting position.

  “It’s OK, Charlie. You’ve just knocked your nose and passed out for a minute or two. You’re going to be fine.”

  Charlie blinked a few times as he sat up. The blood was easing off now, and little red crusts were forming around his nostrils.

  “You all right, Charlie?” I asked, but he just looked back at me in a dazed way.

  Mrs Lloyd came storming across the playground with Adel skipping behind her. When she arrived, everyone fell silent. Even Sanjeev stopped retching. She looked around at the crowd of kids staring at her and then her finger pointed towards me.

  “Maxwell Beckett. My office. NOW.”

  I sat outside Mrs Lloyd’s door while Mum and Dad talked to her on their own. Normally when I got in trouble they’d come in after school, so being called in during the day must have meant things were really bad. However, once I got the chance to explain that it wasn’t actually my fault I was sure everything would be OK.

  I could see what was going on in reception from where I was sitting. Charlie had a great big blue flannel on his nose. He took it off to inspect it and I couldn’t see any more blood. I think he was probably making a bigger fuss about it than he needed too.

  “Charlie! Oi! Charlie!” I called across to him. “You’ve got to tell them it was an accident.”

  Charlie looked over, his face all confused. The receptionist told me to be quiet and then Charlie’s mum burst through the big glass doors. She went straight to her son and put her hands on his shoulders, holding him still as she inspected his face. She tutted and then tried to smooth his hair down.

  “Hey, Charlie! Charlie! At least you get the rest of the day off, eh?” I shouted, giving him a double thumbs-up.

  Charlie’s mum glared at me and put her arm around him as they stood up.

  “I don’t want you anywhere near my son ever again, Maxwell Beckett.”

  I opened my mouth but nothing came out.

  “You keep away from him, do you hear me?” she added.

  I was stunned.

  “B-but we’re mates. Aren’t we, Charlie? Who’s he going to hang around with if he can’t be friends with me?”

  Charlie looked at me and then back at his mum. He went to say something but his mum was twisting him this way and that, trying to put his coat on him like he was a five-year-old.

  “Tell her then, Charlie! Tell her we’re still mates!” I shouted. His mum pulled the zip up on the front of his coat and then he turned to me and shook his head.

  “Sorry, Maxwell,” he said.

  I couldn’t believe it.

  “FINE!” I bellowed. “I NEVER EVEN LIKED YOU ANYWAY! YOU’RE JUST A NERDY … IDIOT!”

  I slumped back into the chair just as Mrs Lloyd’s office door opened.

  “WHAT ON EARTH IS GOING ON OUT HERE?!” she demanded.

  I scuffed my feet against the carpet.

  “As if you’re not already in enough trouble, eh, Maxwell? Come on in then, let’s get this over with,” she said. I got up really, really slowly and followed her into her office.

  There were three chairs in front of her desk. Mum and Dad were sitting apart so I sat on the one in the middle.

  Mrs Lloyd rolled up the sleeves on her cardigan and leaned her elbows on the desk. It was her “this is serious” pose. I’d seen it many times before.

  “So, Maxwell. You obviously know why you’re here. I’ve had a good chat with your parents and we’re all in agreement that your behaviour warrants punishment…”

  More detentions. Great. I slumped down in the seat as far as I could while Mrs Lloyd continued.

  “…therefore, I’m very disappointed and actually quite sad to have to tell you that you will not be welcome at the Centenary Ball tomorrow evening.”

  “What?!” I yelled, sitting bolt upright. I couldn’t believe it! I felt a great lump forming in my throat and I swallowed it away. “B-but Jed and Baz are going to be there! We’re going to be on TV!”

  She waved her hand at me.

  “And that brings me on to the next thing. I understand from Mr Howard that in form this morning you took it upon yourself to ruin the news of our surprise guests at tomorrow’s event. Why would you do that, Maxwell? Why would you want to spoil it for all the others?”

  I opened my mouth but I wasn’t sure what to say.

  “I … I just thought … I … I…” I stuttered. “Anyway, what happened to Charlie was a complete accident. Honestly!”

  I looked at Mum and Dad but they were both staring down at the horrible beige carpet. Mrs Lloyd carried on.

  “We have plenty of witnesses that say you deliberately headbutted Charlie after you’d been teasing him with a tennis racket. I’m afraid it’s your word against theirs, and considering your aptitude for getting into trouble, I would say it’s quite obvious who is telling the truth here. Wouldn’t you?”

  I’d sort of lost the thread of what she was saying, but I got the idea. I was in a heap of trouble and I wasn’t going to the ball to see Jed and Baz. I wasn’t welcome. The teachers didn’t want me there, the kids didn’t want me there, the parents of the kids didn’t want me there. Everybody hated me.

  My heart pounded. I was running out of time. I had to do something to change her mind.

  “But … but … what about the competition I won? If it wasn’t for me … for my drawing … the school wouldn’t have had all the building work done. It’s down to me that it all happened!”

  Mrs Lloyd sighed and put her hands together on the desk.

  “We will always be incredibly grateful for your competition win, Maxwell. But that was over a year ago now. And frankly, ever since then, you’ve been getting into more and more trouble. I can’t let this go just because you once won a prize. I’m sorry, but there will be no Centenary Ball for you.”

  I bit my bottom lip and clenched my fists. I couldn’t believe it.

  “Your parents are taking you home for the rest of the day,” she said, moving some pieces of paper around her desk. “Over the weekend, Maxwell, I want you to think long and hard about your future here at Green Mills High School. OK? Have a think about the person you have become and whether you’d want to be friends with him.”

  I wasn’t sure what she meant by that so I just stared down at my feet and pushed my big toe up against the inside of my shoe. It made a little bump. I kept staring at the little bump until she realized I wasn’t going to say anything.

  Dad cleared his throat.

  “Don’t worry, Mrs Lloyd. We’ll have a good chat about this at home and Maxwell will think about all the problems he’s caused today. Won’t you, Maxwell?”

  Mum added her bit:

  “And we’re very grateful that you aren’t suspending him. Aren’t we, Maxwell?” she said. I ignored them both. They stood up and all shook hands.

  And then we left.

  When we got home I went straight through to the kitchen. Monster climbed out of his bed when he saw me, his tail wagging and his tongue dangling out the side of his mouth. I ga
ve him a bone-shaped biscuit from a plastic tub and then I went back into the hallway. Mum and Dad were in the lounge with the door shut. I stood outside and listened.

  “He’s clearly unhappy, Eddie. Can’t you see it?”

  “Of course I see it, Amanda. But what on earth do you expect me to do about it?”

  “Try talking to him, perhaps? He needs his dad.”

  “He needs us both! If you weren’t always having a go at me then maybe—”

  “Me? Having a go at you? Oh, that’s just ridiculous…”

  I couldn’t face being the house with them arguing again.

  “I’m going to see Reg!” I yelled, and I slammed the front door before they could answer.

  Reg lived in a bungalow next door to Mrs Banks’s house. I’d been going to see him more and more lately. There was no shouting at Reg’s and definitely no arguing. It was just Reg and his tin of biscuits and his endless cups of tea.

  When I walked past Mrs Banks’s garden she was standing on her front lawn next to the headless flamingo. I stuck my hands in my pockets and looked down.

  “Are you responsible for this?” she shouted as I walked past. “The trouble with your sort is that there isn’t any discipline at home. You’re allowed to do exactly what you want, aren’t you? Boundaries. That’s what you need. Boundaries! Do you hear me?”

  I hurried up Reg’s path. Normally I’d shout back but I didn’t want to. Not today. I went around the side of the bungalow to the kitchen door, knocked then went in. It was always unlocked.

  Reg was standing by the sink doing some washing-up. He had his back to me.

  “Hello, Reg. Do you fancy a cup of tea?” I said, walking to the cupboard and getting out two mugs.

  Reg turned around, his eyes wide and his soapy hands dripping on to the floor.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Do I know you?” he said, his face confused.

  I sighed.

  “Yes, Reg. I’m Maxwell. Maxwell Beckett. Remember? I come and see you nearly every single day.”

  He frowned as he dried his hands on a tea towel.

  “Maxwell, you say … Maxwell … hmmm,” he murmured.