Inside My Head

by Jim Carrington

  ‘All right?’ I say.

  He looks at the ground. He mumbles something. I can’t make out whether it’s ‘yeah’ or ‘no’ or ‘hello’.

  ‘I was looking for you earlier,’ I say. ‘After what happened in science.’

  He looks up for a second, like he doesn’t believe me. ‘Really?’

  I nod. ‘Yeah. Didn’t find you, though. Obviously!’

  He doesn’t say anything. He just stands there with his blazer hunched round his shoulders, his hands in his pockets.

  ‘Are you OK?’

  Gary shrugs his shoulders. He doesn’t look all right. He looks like he wants to be anywhere but here. And I don’t know what else to say to him. So we stand there in silence and wait for the coach.

  It arrives a couple of minutes later. One of the teachers comes and leads us over to it. Up ahead, I see Paul Knaggs get on. He’s got a cap on now. And he’s taken his blazer and tie off. His shirt is untucked. He’s got trainers on instead of shoes. Quite nice ones. Expensive ones. He thinks he’s pretty special, you can tell.

  Knaggs goes straight to the back of the bus. I wait for Gary to get on. He sits near the front, even though there are loads of seats further back up the bus. I sit next to him. He looks at me as I sit down.

  ‘Do you mind if I sit here?’

  He looks at me again. He shakes his head. ‘Free country,’ he says. And he turns to look out of the window.

  We sit there in silence as the bus rattles along the tiny roads. There are fields on either side of the road, all the way back. Hardly any houses. And the bus drivers round here are even more psycho than the ones in Morden. They just speed along the country roads at about sixty miles an hour. So I try to look out of the side windows instead of out of the front.

  .

  Mum’s in the lounge, on the sofa, when I get home. She’s sipping a cup of tea and watching telly.

  ‘Hi, love,’ she says. ‘How was it?’

  I drop my bag on the floor by my feet. ‘Not so good,’ I say.

  Mum’s expression changes. She looks disappointed. ‘Oh dear. What happened?’

  I flop down on the sofa next to her. ‘Everything just went really wrong,’ I say. ‘I think I’ve managed to make everybody think I’m a weirdo on my first day.’

  Mum puts her cup of tea down on the floor and then puts her arm round me. ‘Oh, Zo,’ she says. ‘I’m sure they don’t think that really. You’re just being paranoid.’

  I look at her. ‘No, seriously, Mum. They do think I’m weird!’

  ‘Why would they think that?’ Mum asks.

  I sigh. ‘It’s just . . .’ But I don’t know what I’m trying to say. I sigh. ‘They think Gary’s my boyfriend.’

  Mum makes a face, like, ‘he had better not be your boyfriend, young lady’.

  ‘Relax, Mum, he’s not my boyfriend! No way. It’s just they were all picking on him and . . .’

  Mum makes a sorrowful face and pulls me in for a hug. ‘Don’t worry about it, Zoë. They don’t think you’re weird, because you’re not weird.’

  I give Mum a smile.

  ‘Do you want a cup of tea, love?’ she says. ‘It’s only just made – there’s one in the pot.’

  I shake my head. ‘No. I’m gonna go out for a bit. I need to sort my head out.’

  ‘Haven’t you got homework?’ Mum asks.

  I shake my head. ‘They let me off today,’ I say. Which is a lie.

  Mum makes a face, like she’s thinking about it. ‘Well, OK,’ she says. ‘But make sure you change out of your uniform first.’

  ‘Thanks, Mum,’ I say. And I head out of the lounge and then the front door.

  I walk out of the village, towards the farm first of all. The sky’s clearing just as the sun’s starting to go down. And it’s getting cold. I climb over the gate, half walk, half run across the field and into the barn. Gary isn’t there. Just the same collection of farm machinery, empty cider bottles, fag ends and dust.

  I walk over to the farmhouse. It’s too dark to see clearly, but I can’t see Gary in there. Just loads more dust and a table that’s got some empty bottles and a carrier bag on it.

  So I walk back through the village, towards the playing field. And I see that tramp again. The medal man. He looks rough – in a bad way. His face looks really red. Purple almost. And he’s got a cut on his face. It’s bleeding. He’s swaying all over the road, swinging a blue plastic carrier bag.

  I stop in front of him. ‘Are you all right?’ I say.

  The medal man doesn’t look at me. He keeps swaying around. I don’t think he knows I’m here. He’s too out of it.

  ‘Are you OK?’

  This time, he kind of looks up. Stops walking. But he still doesn’t seem to see me. He stays really still for a second, as though he can hear a sound, like he’s listening out for something.

  ‘Do you need any help?’ I ask.

  He makes a confused face. Then an angry face. He mumbles to himself. And he starts walking again, swaying all over the place just like before, swinging the plastic bag.

  I carry on walking as well. I kick a stone as I’m walking, till it hits a bump and flies up into the hedge. As I walk, I start to wonder whether I should go after him, the medal man. Get him to go and see a doctor or something. He looked bad. I turn round and look down the road. But he’s gone. He’ll be OK. I turn back and walk towards the village.

  .

  Gary isn’t at the playing field, either. Hardly anyone is – just me, the man with the yappy dog and Paul Bloody Knaggs. As soon as I see it’s him, I think about turning round and going straight home. But I think too slowly, cos he notices me, jumps off the swings and walks across the playing field towards me.

  ‘You just can’t keep away, can you?’ he says.

  I roll my eyes. And walk straight past him.

  He follows me. ‘Where’s your boyfriend, then? Is he in a mood?’

  I turn and give him a look. ‘Grow up!’ I say.

  He sort of looks at me, like he’s studying my face for clues. ‘Oh, I get it,’ he says. ‘You were looking for lover boy, weren’t you?’

  I don’t say anything. But I feel myself blush.

  Knaggs smirks. ‘I knew it.’

  I quicken my pace to try and leave him behind. But Paul walks just as quickly.

  ‘You know, Zoë, you could do much better than Wood. You’re not all that bad-looking, in a certain light.’

  I narrow my eyes at him and say nothing. I keep on walking, past the social club and out on to the gravel driveway.

  ‘I don’t understand what you see in him,’ Paul says. ‘The guy’s a freak, a loser, a psycho. You saw it for yourself. Why bother with him?’

  I stop walking, turn and look at him. ‘If anyone’s a freak, it’s you!’ I say. ‘You’re the one with the problem as far as I can see. You’re the psycho that’s been trying to make other people’s lives a misery.’

  He looks at me like he doesn’t know what to say. For a second I think, That’s it, I’ve put him in his place. But then he smirks.

  ‘Why are you doing this?’ I say. ‘You must have some serious issues!’

  He just stands there, that annoying smirk on his face. I want to hit him. I want to shake him, make him realise how much of an arse he’s being. But I know that whatever I do, he’s just gonna stand there, smirking like a little kid. So, I turn away and walk off towards the road.

  ‘Slag!’ he shouts after me.

  .

  David

  We’re at the dinner table. Pizza. And some salad out of a packet. Dad and Ollie are both scoffing their faces. Mum’s just sitting there, though, thinking, staring into space.

  ‘I was doing Margaret’s appraisal today, David,’ she says.

  I
nod. The pizza in my mouth is more difficult to chew all of a sudden. I don’t look up, cos I know what she’s gonna say next, what she’s getting at.

  ‘She said Gary went back to school today. She had to go and take him in and speak to Mr Moore.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Did you see him?’ Mum says. She’s looking straight at me, I can tell. I try to meet her eyes for a second. Then I look away, down at my plate, cut some food.

  ‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘Just in science, though.’

  Mum nods. She cuts some pizza and puts it in her mouth. And I think I’ve got away lightly, if that’s all she’s gonna ask me about Wood. But then, when she’s finished her mouthful, she looks at me again. ‘Was he all right?’ she says. ‘Gary, I mean.’

  I take a deep breath. My heart starts thumping. What’s the right answer to this? How can I say that, no, he wasn’t OK, cos my best mate gave him a hard time again? ‘I’m not sure,’ I say. ‘He walked out of science. Not sure why . . .’

  Mum puts her knife and fork down with a clunk on the table. ‘Really?’ she says, like she’s shocked. ‘Oh no. Why?’

  I shake my head. ‘I dunno,’ I lie. ‘Think he got upset about something.’

  ‘Oh no,’ Mum says. ‘That’s awful. Margaret’ll be beside herself. She’s really worried about him.’

  It’s quiet for a while. Mum picks up her knife and fork again. I try to eat some more of my pizza and salad.

  ‘Good day today, Ollie?’ Dad says, after a while.

  Ollie shrugs. ‘All right.’

  ‘Right,’ Dad says, and takes a sip of his tea. ‘You know, Ollie, maybe it’s time to think about getting a proper job.’

  There’s the noise of knives and forks scraping plates and people chewing their food.

  But Ollie has stopped eating. ‘I have a proper job,’ he says.

  Dad stops eating and looks across the table at Ollie. ‘OK,’ he says. ‘Fair point. But maybe you should start thinking about a career. Not a supermarket job. You could come and work for me. You’d have to start at the bottom, but a bright spark like you’d soon get promoted.’ Dad smiles.

  Ollie stares at Dad. ‘I want to work in a supermarket, though. I like it. I don’t want to sell chicken feeders to farmers, like you.’

  ‘Not for the rest of your life, Ollie,’ Dad says.

  Ollie shrugs. ‘Why not?’

  Dad doesn’t answer. He picks up his Norwich City mug and takes a gulp. He shakes his head, like he doesn’t understand. ‘You are joking?’ he says.

  Ollie bends over his plate again. He doesn’t answer.

  ‘Maybe you should think about going back to college, then,’ Dad says.

  Ollie sighs really loudly. He picks up his pizza in his hands and ignores Dad.

  ‘No?’ Dad says.

  Ollie shrugs. He chews his pizza.

  ‘Maybe we should have this conversation another time,’ Mum says.

  Dad shakes his head again and attacks the lettuce leaves on his plate with his fork.

  There’s silence. No one wants to say anything. There’s an atmosphere. I look out of the kitchen window while I’m eating, so I don’t have to look at anyone.

  Mum breaks the silence. ‘Could you keep an eye on Gary for me?’

  I stop in mid-chew. I’m not sure what to say. I can’t say no, I suppose. But I don’t want to say yes.

  ‘Please,’ she says. ‘You always used to play together when you were babies. Just keep an eye on him, that’s all.’

  I look at Mum. ‘S’pose,’ I say.

  ‘It would mean a lot to me, David. Margaret’s at the end of her tether over all this. She’s not sure what to do . . .’

  I nod. ‘OK.’ And then I look back at my plate, spear a bit of lettuce and eat it.

  .

  Zoë

  I did something weird tonight – a bit stalkery. After I got back from the playing field. I got the phone book out and looked ‘Wood’ up in it. Wasn’t hard to find his number. There were thousands of ‘Woods’ listed in Norfolk. But only one ‘Wood’. In Wallingham. Wood, R. It has to be his number.

  I thought about ringing. I even got as far as picking up my phone. But then I realised I didn’t know what I’d say. And besides, like I said, it would look like I was stalking him. I saved the number in my mobile, though, and I wrote the address down. Just in case.

  .

  Gary

  I used to help Dad on the farm a lot. Sometimes we’d move the cows from field to field. Henry’s farm was so spread out – he had fields all round Wallingham – that sometimes we’d shift the cows quite a long way and we’d have to walk them along the roads. Dad would get me to hold the gates open for him. Don’t sound like a very responsible job, but it was. See, if you don’t hold the gate properly, so it closes off one part of the road, the cows’ll end up going the wrong way and causing havoc on the roads. That happened once, when I was holding the gate – I left a little gap and a young Friesian squeezed past and ran off the wrong way down the road. It took them hours to get her back. But they did.

  I must’ve only been about seven or eight, but Henry got really angry with me – started yelling and swearing his head off. Dad stood up for me when Henry started yelling. He got right in Henry’s face and told him that if he wanted his bloody cows looking after, he should shut his stupid gob. Told him to stick his crappy job up his lazy arse. I was scared. I thought they were gonna have a fight. I thought Dad was gonna lose his job. And it would all have been my fault. But Henry just walked away.

  And after a while Dad calmed down too. Mum made him go back into work the next day and say sorry. I think Henry grumbled a bit, but he let Dad come back all the same. Probably cos otherwise he’d have had to get off his lazy arse and do some work for himself.

  .

  Tuesday

  Zoë

  ‘Come on, Zoë, get up,’ Mum says. She opens my bedroom door and walks in. ‘Time to get up for school.’

  I sigh and roll over. I pull the pillow over my head. I just want to block the day out. I want to go to sleep and wake up somewhere else, so I don’t have to get up and go to Wendham High School.

  ‘Come on,’ Mum says. She puts her hand on my shoulder and gives me a gentle shake.

  I sigh again.

  Mum gently lifts the pillow off my head. I look up at her. ‘Oh, you are in there,’ she says, smiling.

  I don’t smile back.

  ‘Time to get up, love. Otherwise you’ll be late for school.’

  I sit up in bed. ‘I’m not feeling well,’ I say. ‘I can’t go to school today. I’ve got a stomach ache.’

  ‘Really?’

  I nod my head.

  ‘Let me feel your temperature,’ Mum says. And she puts her cold hand on my forehead. ‘You don’t feel hot.’

  I look up at Mum. I used to be able to do this really well, when I didn’t want to go into school. She’d always believe me. But I can tell from her face that she’s not taken in this time.

  She smiles. ‘Why don’t you come and have some breakfast?’ she says. ‘Might make you feel better. You’ve probably just got second-day nerves, Zoë.’

  Mum goes back out of my bedroom and down the stairs. I sit on my bed. I reach over to my bedside table and grab my white T-shirt. I took it into school last Tuesday, my last day at Morden High. I took a marker pen as well. All my friends signed it and wrote messages. I start reading them again. It’s weird. It seems like a year ago now, since I was there. It seems like a different lifetime. Seems like a different Zoë.

  .

  David

  PE. The changing rooms. It’s mental in here sometimes. Mainly cos Mr Lawson never comes in and checks that we’re behaving ourselves – he just leaves us on our own. To do our own t
hing. Anyone who’s got any sense gets changed as quick as they can and then goes straight into the gym, so they stay out of the mickey-taking and stuff. That’s what all the pebbleheads like Gary Wood do. Cos they know that otherwise they’ll end up getting the piss taken out of them.

  I’m nearly changed myself. I’ve got my T-shirt and shorts on. I just need to put my trainers on. Next to me, Knaggs is still in his school uniform, though. He’s only taken his tie off so far. He’s spent the rest of the time taking the mick out of people, prowling around the changing rooms. It always makes me feel nervous being in here, in case someone starts taking the mick out of me. Although with Knaggs around I guess they won’t.

  ‘Hey, Davey,’ Knaggs says. ‘Watch this.’ He walks over to the corner of the changing rooms – the corner reserved for pebbleheads.

  ‘What you doing?’ I say.

  Knaggs grins at me. He takes a bag off the bench and holds it out for me to see. ‘This is Wood’s bag, isn’t it?’

  I look at it. It’s a skanky old black rucksack with holes in it. ‘Think so. Yeah. Why?’

  Knaggs grins again. He opens the drawstring at the top of the bag and looks inside. After a few seconds he pulls out a lunch box. ‘Well, lookee here,’ he says. ‘Farmer Boy’s got ham sandwiches for his lunch!’ He takes a sandwich out of the lunch box and takes a bite. Then he makes a face. ‘Oh, yuck,’ he says. ‘That’s disgusting.’ He stops chewing and lets the half-chewed sandwich fall out of his mouth.

  I’m not the only person watching. There are about five or six of us left in the changing rooms. We’re all looking at Knaggs and laughing kind of nervously.