by Will Davis
Mr Fellows isn't in. He's off sick apparently, so instead we get lame-O Dr Dickhead who tells us to read the textbooks and make notes all lesson. I'm kind of glad, even though it's boring, 'cos to be honest I've been totally dreading seeing Fellows again. I feel pretty sorry about what I said to him last time, 'cos he was just trying to help and all, even if he was just doing it to, like, give himself a purpose or something. In fact, to be completely honest, I'm kind of worried about him.
Anyway, what's coming up here is basically totally freaksome, and I was thinking just to skip it and save you the hassle, but since we're here you may as well deal with it. I have to.
So after class I head off home. So far so amazing. Al's not with me though, 'cos she promised her parents she'd do, like, an extra hour in the library every day, which she invited me to join her in, but of course I was like, No. So basically I'm on my own - and don't think somebody hasn't noticed.
I turn the corner into the alley that leads down this side street to my stop and it's like something out of a Western. It's Fuck Face of course, with the Tweedles on either side of him, all stood there with their arms folded like this mutated version of Charlie's Angels. One look at their faces and you know this isn't going to be about kittens. I rapidly debate over whether to turn and bolt for it - I could just run right back down the street and like, throw myself in front of the school doors crying out for sanctuary or something. But I don't run away, even though I could probably make it – don't ask me why. I guess I'm just fed up. It's like, a facing-your-demons moment. A total facing-your-ugly, disease-breathed demons moment.
So I'm like, What the fuck do you want?
Fuck Face like, growls, You've got some explaining to do.
Next to him Tweedle Dum sneers and goes, We just want to have a little word, that's all, and Tweedle Dee's like, We're not in school. There's no one to protect you now!
Then they all take a step forward at the same time, like they've rehearsed it or something. Fuck Face's cheeks have gone this weird shade of deep red, like he's been holding his breath. He looks like he's about to go to war. It's pretty frightening actually.
I'm like, Look, don't you have a detention to be in?
Tweedle Dum is like, Think you can get away with getting old Joe here suspended, did you, faggot? He's not too happy about that, is he? Not too happy at all.
Tweedle Dee's like, He's pretty mad about it in fact.
I'm like, You do know your nicknames are Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum, don't you?
They ignore this. Tweedle Dum's like, There's no freaks around to save you any more, Jarold. Did you actually think you were gonna get away without a beating?
They all take another step. I swear it's like they're part of a line-dancing class. It's too late to turn and run now.
I'm like, You're gonna be in deep shit if you don't just fuck off!
Tweedle Dum's like, Oh I don't think so. Because you're not going to be telling anyone about this little rendezvous of ours. Not after we're finished with you.
Then he goes to Fuck Face, Show him your scar.
Fuck Face obediently turns his head and points. Actually the scar itself really isn't that bad, although it's definitely there. It's just this small line that like, runs an inch along the side of his jaw. I mean it's like, if I were him I'd be much more concerned about the way the rest of my face looked.
That's your fault, goes Tweedle Dum in this voice like the Snake out of The Jungle Book. Then he's like, to Fuck Face, Are you going to let this poof get away with that?
Fuck Face turns his head back and looks down at me. His forehead looms like the Centrepoint tower.
'Course he isn't, goes Tweedle Dum, He's not gonna let some faggot get the better of him, (to Fuck Face) He made a joke of you.
I'm like, Go buy yourself a soul! (Pretty lame, I know, but it's hard to be consistent with so many opportunities.)
You've got some explaining to do, says Fuck Face again in his super-gruff voice. They all take another synchronised step.
To be honest, if I thought there was a chance of actually pulling it off, I'd totally have a go at explaining. The trouble with someone of Fuck Face's mentality is that an explanation of anything would end up as just this total ordeal, not to mention the fact that you'd need to have the right props, like Lego and puppets and stuff. But it's pretty obvious he's not gonna be giving me the time to argue my way out of this. He takes another step forward all on his own, so he's, like, a couple of feet away. The Tweedles put these identical grins on their faces which kind of merge with Fuck Face's fuck face. Then I have this great surge of anger.
After all the stuff that's been happening of late I kind of made this decision that I was going to be like, this total pacifist and make an effort to actually care a bit more and stuff. But quite frankly there are times when things happen too fast for you to tap into being all Yoko. There are times when your body just jumps into action without you even having any say in the matter.
Before Fuck Face can reach out and like, Vulcan-death-grip me, I've done the one move you can pretty much always do and be guaranteed of a satisfactory result, which is to kick him in the gonads. I connect hard. Fuck Face's eyes bulge out Roger-Rabbit style and this sound comes out his mouth like a deflating whoopee cushion. He sinks to his knees. The Tweedles let out harmonious gasps of surprise.
Then I hear myself shouting. I must have gone all depersonalised again because the shouting seems all random and like it has nothing at all to do with me - except that I can hear myself doing it. I'm going, You total cunt! Don't you know Fabian's dead? Are you so fucking clueless you don't know what that means? When someone's dead! You're the one who should be dead! You! You! You fucking waste of space!
It's like, I know. Anyway, then (to everyone's amazement) Fuck Face makes this weird sound like he's snivelling. Like he's actually upset by the stuff I've been shouting. Like somewhere underneath that gorgeous exterior there's like, a sensibility or something. The Tweedles both look seriously disturbed.
Tweedle Dum is like, You're not gonna take that, are you} But he sounds totally unsure of himself, like he kind of expects the answer is going to be Yes, actually. I look at Fuck Face right in the eyes and it's like they're the total meaning of misery or something, and not just because of the pain. Then Tweedle Dee makes a decision - like, all of his own - and rushes me. He gets me in an arm lock before I have time to like, see him coming and repeat my kung-fu bollocks-kicking move.
It's OK, I've got him! he tells Fuck Face, all excited. He bends my arm back till it's like, unbearable, like any second now there's going to be this snapping sound and half my arm'll land on the pavement. I've got to admit at this point tragically I'm doing little more than whimpering like a total pathetic moron.
Go on! Take him out! goes Tweedle Dum.
Let him have it, adds Tweedle Dee just in case Fuck Face was still unsure of what to do. He twists my arm even further. I close my eyes and prepare myself for hospital.
Then Fuck Face lets out this roaring sound, and goes, Get the fuck off him!
I open my eyes. Suddenly Fuck Face is on his feet again. He literally rips Tweedle Dee off me (almost breaking my arm) and tosses him backwards. Tweedle Dee goes flying into Tweedle Dum, like something out of a comedy or something, and they both crash to the ground.
Fuck Face turns to me while they're picking their brains up and goes, I didn't . . . I didn't mean . . . I didn't mean it, in this voice that's wavering all over the place. And he's got tears coming out of his eyes like, For Real. I hear this sound of feet pitter-pattering away and look up to see the Tweedles making an exit.
I look back. He stands there panting over me with his mouth open so you can practically see the heart of all things fungi. It's suddenly totally obvious that this hasn't been about my demons at all. That like, all this time the Tweedles have been these two evil voices in his head, and that this has been a total McFly moment for Fuck Face. Meanwhile I'm like, hardly alive from his death breath, but I figure now's n
ot the best time to say anything.
Do you think it's my fault he went and did himself in? he goes.
I kind of let this long pause go by. I'm totally tempted to say Yes, just to see if I can get him to like, perform some tricks or something out of guilt about it. But of course I don't. He's like misery in human form, so it would be pretty mean, and the peace stuff is kind of coming back to me now. It's funny to think he was feeling guilty about it too.
So I'm like, No, and he gives me this look like he wants to kiss me (the idea of which is gross beyond gross). He like, reaches out with both arms and it's blatant he wants a hug, but I've got no intention of getting any closer to The Source, so I keep him at bay by like, patting him on the shoulder in this totally retarded way.
Then he's like, You know . . . it's not like I haven't ever had . . . thoughts about guys before.
At which point I'm ready to suggest he goes and finds the Tweedles again. But I don't. Instead I have to endure some gush about him being all confused and insecure about himself (it's like, no - really?). Finally, to get away I fake an emergency dental appointment and tell him I'll see him in school. I make like to go.
Then I look back. Fuck Face still looks pretty unhappy, and I get this voice in my head, which is like, reminding me about Fabian and suggesting to me how bad I'm gonna feel if Fuck Face goes and tops himself now too, even though it's like, not even remotely likely. So I go back and kind of pat him on the shoulder some more and tell him to chill out and stuff.
I'm like, It's pretty cool that you're open-minded.
Fuck Face's expression totally morphs at this idea - that it's like, cool to be open-minded. He gives me a big yellow grin and then goes off to wherever losers go looking all pleased with himself. I'm left with the regret that I didn't somehow work in a bit about the importance of brushing your teeth.
So now I'm going to have to like, say Hello to him and stuff in school, which is totally lame. Maybe it's this wonderful thing for him, and now the whole direction of his life is all changed and he's gonna grow up as this caring, lovely Quasimodo type, I don't know. But I'm not sitting next to him in class or anything. That's like, For Sure.
22
The evening after the Fuck-Face incident is pretty grim, since Mum and Dad and even The Nun are still silent-treatmenting me. Dinner is just this parody of existence, since no one says a single word to me the whole time. It's like, hands up who wishes I wasn't born.
Anyway, school the next day is full-on weird. Firstly because when me and Al arrive Fuck Face comes towards us with this big smile on his face. He's all chummy and smiley, like we're suddenly his best friends or something, and when we go I notice he kind of droops a bit, like maybe he was hoping for more from us. I also notice that later on he doesn't sit with the Tweedles either - just on his own at the other side of the classroom 'cos there's no one else who wants to sit next to him. It's pretty sad really, since he's blatantly out of his depth. But that's what happens when you suddenly decide to stop being a bully and grow like, a personality. Who knows how long it'll last anyway.
Still, the main reason school is weird though is 'cos Fellows is back, and by the way there's a total shocker coming up here, so, like, prepare thyself.
Al spies him getting out of someone's car and going inside during morning break. I'm glad he's not at death's door, or gone insane from loneliness or anything, but I'm dreading the afternoon session when we have double geography period. It's destined to be like, majorly uncomfor- table. In this like, effort to halfway appease him I tell Al we should maybe sit apart and she agrees and goes and sits next to Sam. I sit on my own at the front. I decide I'll try and speak to him at the end. I don't really see what I'm going to be able to say, apart from sorry, but I figure I owe him, so what the hell. Feels like all I do these days is say Sorry. Sorry for like, inflicting myself on the world.
Anyway, Fellows comes in right after the bell and straight away apologises for being late, as though anyone actually minds. But he looks all flushed, which is unusual for him, since ordinarily he's this kind of greyish colour. He gives me and Al a quick look but it's hard to read anything from it, and then he kind of stands in front of the whole class and opens out his arms like he wants to give us this massive big collective hug. Then he booms out, Good afternoon, people!
It's like he's on drugs or something. I swear if I didn't think it was like, impossible, I'd have believed the old codger had gone and got himself laid. I swivel round to see if Al has noticed. You can bet your sexuality she has. She's practically falling out of her chair. She obviously wants to whisper about it but she's got a fat chance of interesting old brainiac Sam.
Nobody can say anything wrong to Fellows all lesson. When he asks some wisecracker what the difference is between porous and igneous rock and they say Negligible he actually laughs, which is like, totally wrong. He even hums a bit to himself while we're all reading this chapter from the stupid textbook.
I take a long time putting my books in my bag so I'm the last out after class. When I look up I see that Fellows is waiting and tapping his foot up and down impatiently. I follow him into the corridor and stand behind him while he locks the door like I'm shadowing him or something. Fellows turns and looks at me.
He's like, Is everything all right?
I'm like, totally on the spot. Hey look, I go, I wanted to say sorry about what I said before.
Fellows looks at me for a minute like he's trying to figure out what I'm talking about, and I start to feel like the biggest moron on the planet. Then he seems to remember because he smiles and shrugs.
Don't worry about it, Jarold, he goes, I know what it's like to be your age. Your hormones are all over the place. It's quite understandable.
And just like that the whole feeling-sorry thing like, dies a violent death. But Fellows is starting to get into it now. He smiles at me and then goes, I heard about your little sojourn with Alice.
I'm like, Oh right, all icy now.
He's like, Don't worry, I'm not going to lecture you, I'm simply going to repeat what I've always said, which is that if ever you want to talk, I'm there.
Before I have the chance to puke in his face he heads off down the corridor leaving me all dazed by the like, vibes of positivity he's radiating. Al taps me on the shoulder.
Come on! she goes, We have to follow him!
And that's how we end up becoming Fellows' personal stalkers - trying to catch a peep of whoever's blowing him. Al says this other guy who was in the car this morning was the same age as him, and now she's positive this must be his boyfriend. I'm like, Grossness, but she thinks it's the most wonderful thing ever. She's gonna get like, a degree in fag-haggery pretty soon the way she carries on.
At first it's fun playing detective. Fun 'cos you know that at any second you might get caught, and that's pretty scary when you're following your gay teacher. I mean, he could still have turned out to be a serial killer, which wouldn't have surprised me because sometimes it's hard to believe anyone can act so righteous and understanding all the time and not be like, murdering people on the side or something. But the fun of following him doesn't last. Once we get to his house it quickly gets boring. Turns out he lives in Shepherd's Bush too, which is handy, because after a few blocks I'm not in the mood for rushing over town just to see who he's shagging. Al's totally into the whole thing though, and keeps a straight face all through, whereas I'm giggling every few steps, since it must be pretty obvious to anyone else on the street that we're following him.
When he goes inside his house, I'm like, What now?
Al's like, We wait, like this is a stealth operation she's been planning for years.
So we do. We sit outside on a wall and wait. And wait. I'm like, totally over this whole scene, but Al doesn't let go easily, and it turns out to be well worth our sticking around, since an old red Volvo pulls up into his drive and this guy gets out, and that's when things suddenly fit together in my head, like when you guess the ending of a film or something.
I feel like jumping up and shouting, Eureka! but I don't, because I'm not that far gone in the direction of uncool.
It's Higgs. He goes to the door and Fellows opens it before he's even had a chance to knock or anything. They start kissing like a pair of newly-weds, right there and then, which is not a pleasant sight, let me tell you. I mean, one of these guys is my teacher and the other's like, my therapist. It's like, I'm never gonna be shocked by anything in life after seeing this. And what's more, get this: I suddenly realise it was Higgs who I saw at Starlight that night when I was hiding from Jon behind the jukebox.
Al's properly happy about it. She like coos, Isn't it sweet?
I'm like, still dealing with the info influx, at which point (and this is really stupid and is probably gonna make you hate me but I'm not gonna lie) I suddenly have the worst fit of sneezing known to man. It's all that time spent in the freezing cold in Brighton probably. Anyway it literally shakes the street, and every bird, beast and man turns to look. That comprises mostly of Higgs and Fellows. I'm, like, a deeper level of Oh Fuck. They like, simultaneously recognise me and open their mouths. I don't know what else to do, since me and Al being here is totally scuppered, so I end up giving them both a wave.
It's an awkward situation. We end up going in for tea and a chat. I mean, we could have run away, but I'd just die if Higgs brought it up in our next family session, and plus Al's really curious. It's like she's writing a dissertation on it or something.
It's kind of funny too. Inside Mr Fellows' house is just what you'd expect: square. It could only ever belong to either a gay man or an obsessive-compulsive tidiness nerd, or maybe both. We all sit round the kitchen table with these kitsch gold mugs of herbal shit. Fellows and Higgs slide their chairs together so they're like, practically sitting on top of each other and Fellows takes Higgs' hand, but other than that they don't make much of a display of affection, which I'm glad about because, frankly, I've already seen Quite Enough.
Higgs is pretty embarrassed at first but I get the feeling that Fellows is secretly kind of pleased we're here. He goes, Well, I hope you're both satisfied now.
