The awakening hc-1

by Stuart Meczes

  My only remaining problem had a skinhead and drank too much. I hadn’t bumped into Terry for several days. This meant I was overdue a run in. No doubt TJ would have informed him of my unacceptable behaviour in Science and no doubt Terry was itching to beat an apology out of me. But this time, if he tried, things were going to end differently. I was tired of playing the victim.

  Friday morning, the school had an air of the approaching weekend to it. Everyone seemed to carry a relaxed vibe around with them. They leaned against lockers and chatted away, bright looks filling their faces. First years sat around, wired into iPods and handheld computers, until stern looking teachers came and collected them up. Girls gossiped in small circles, giggling in unison. As I made my way in, people I barely recognised smiled at me. I returned the gestures, submitting to the good atmosphere. I lounged through my History lecture, doodling on my folder as Mrs Carter droned on. I could feel Grace glance at me every now and then. I slipped out my phone and text her a smiley face, just for the hell of it. She sent me one back with a tongue poking out and an x. A landmark — technically the first kiss I’d ever received from anyone other than Mum. I smiled and put the phone back in my pocket.

  A surprise test dumped me into reality. Taking the sheet, I groaned. I hadn’t been listening to a word. But to my surprise, when I flipped over the sheet I found I could answer all the questions without so much as the briefest second to ponder what the answer could be. It was as though my brain had automatically soaked in all the information and could retrieve it as easily as my own name. I left the class with my high spirits still firmly intact. At my locker, as I changed my History textbook for Rebecca, I turned my head to see Richard and Elliot heading in my direction. “Hey Alex!” Richard said, shaking my hand. Elliot clapped me on the arm. “Hey guys, what’s up?” I said, unzipping my bag and dropping the novel inside. “The usual, full day and then footie training,” said Elliot.

  “Kill me now,” groaned Richard as he opened a locker near mine. The inside was adorned with pictures of sporting legends and supermodels. He pulled out a Geography textbook, before turning back to face me. “Anyway, glad we caught you. What are you doing tonight?’

  My social calendar was a shameful block of white.

  “Um, nothing really, was going to chill. How come?” I asked.

  Elliot leaned in close, like he was about to share a secret. “Some of the footie lads are heading to Bakoo tonight. Gonna be sweet mate. Loads of fit birds. What you saying?”

  I paused, processing the invitation. I literally couldn’t remember the last time someone other than Tim had asked me to do something outside of School. Now I was being invited to a social interaction, with the football guys. This was a big deal.

  “Sounds good,” I said.

  “Cool, so we’re meeting at the Pheasant at nine for a couple of pints then heading down after. Make sure you wear shoes and a shirt or you won’t get in yeah?” The bell rang for class and Richard slammed his locker shut and spun the combination. “Can I bring some people?” I asked as they were leaving. “Sure mate, the more the merrier,” said Elliot “See you tonight.” We parted ways and I headed for English with my spirits climbing even higher. I knew exactly who I was going to ask.

  “I can’t, I’m sorry,” Gabriella said as she took her seat next to me in English. “I’ve got a family thing I can’t get out of.” My emotions crashed like the Hindenburg. It was amazing how much of an effect she could have on me. “No worries,” I mumbled, trying to act like it didn’t matter. I flipped open my folder and scribbled the date. “How about Saturday?” she asked. My heart tripped up. “Sorry?”

  “Why don’t we do something together on Saturday instead? Like go into Central London maybe?” She gave a mischievous grin and nudged me. “If you’re not too hung over that is.”

  It took me all of about 3 milliseconds to agree that it sounded like a brilliant idea.

  “Great, I’ll pick you up from yours about twelveish.”

  My hand instinctively pressed against the car keys nestled in my jacket pocket. Maybe this was an opportunity to impress her. “Let me pick you up instead. Where do you live?”

  Gabriella went silent for a second. “I’ve got some errands to run in the morning, so you can grab me from outside that chip shop at twelve. That’s okay right?” She gave me a look that suggested this was as good a compromise as she was willing to make.

  I nodded with a smile just as Mr Hanley wheezed his large frame into the classroom and deposited his gelatinous mass onto the chair. “Okay settle down people. Let’s get this story underway.”

  As if my thoughts of a run in with Terry had tempted fate, he appeared at the end of the school day. Mikey and I were chatting away as we descended the main steps. I’d just finished telling him about my social invitations for the weekend. He congratulated me and confessed that he could now go to a friend’s house party guilt free.

  “Watch out for the neighbours,” I warned with a smile. “If they’re anything like ours, the police will be there within ten minutes.”

  “Bloody curtain twitchers” he said, and we both laughed.

  It was then that I heard my name being bellowed in the fading light. I turned towards the main gates, where the noise came from. Other people milling about stopped to look too.

  I saw a thundering mass of fury marching its way towards me.

  As soon as I realised who it was, I felt the rage bubble in my stomach like someone had turned up the heat. Mikey gripped my arm and stared at me. “Leave it Alex, he’s scum.”

  I shook his hand off, speaking through gritted teeth. “This bastard has been making my life hell for too long.”

  “Oi Eden I want a word wiv you!” Terry growled as he neared. The electric crackle of an impending fight gathered the observers into a crowd.

  “I’ve got your back,” Mikey whispered.

  Warmed for a second by his allegiance, I shook my head regardless and nudged him behind me. “This is a problem I need to deal with by myself.”

  “EDEN-”

  “What do you want Terry?” I said as calmly as I could manage when he finally reached me. The air was invaded with the foul stench of stale cigarettes. Terry was clearly very angry. His eyebrows dipped into a dark V. Lips pulled into a cracked little line. Hands coiled into tight fists. He was working himself up into a rage. Unfortunately for him, I was fuelling a rage of my own.

  He pointed a finger at me, which I had to resist snapping off right then and there. “You tried to act like the big man with TJ…big mistake.” He grinned, exposing his nicotine stained teeth. “You think that having a little pansy makeover and some new friends is gonna stop me from kicking the crap out of you?” There were at least forty people watching now. None dared to move for fear of affecting the outcome of the confrontation. “Oh just do one Terry!” barked Mikey, folding his arms across his chest. “Shut it, or I’ll batter you too!” Mikey moved forward. “Come on then! I’m not scared of you!” I gently pushed him back for the second time.

  Looking at Terry, my hatred overflowed into every pore of my body. My skin bristled with it. In front of me stood the bully who’d made me scared to come to school. The man who’d humiliated me and made it unacceptable to be my friend. For no reason, he had singled me out above all others and made my life a living hell. And to top it off, he had the audacity to threaten Mikey, my half…no my brother.

  Enough was enough.

  But unlike Terry I was reasonable. Trying to control the anger in my voice, I spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. “I think Mikey has a good point. If you walk away, that’s the end of it all. You leave me alone and I’ll leave you alone. Otherwise what happens next is down to you.”

  Terry laughed. A dark, dirty noise, which rumbled from his chest then exploded into the air. He tilted his head back and I watched as his body shook from it. When he finished he wiped a pretend tear from his eye. “I’m sorry but that was too funny”. His eyes narrowed. “You’re going to wish you
were dead mate.”

  I cast one last look at Mikey, who gave a shrug which clearly meant ‘Screw it, kick his head in.’

  And with that Terry exploded a fist towards me. Without thinking, I put my hand out palm first. The two connected with a fleshy slap. His hand jerked to a stop like a dart in a wall. Terry’s eyes bulged as he realised what had happened. He tried to yank his fist back, but I held on — my grip as tight as a lion’s jaw on a gazelle’s neck.

  “This is the hand you like to hit people with, isn’t it?” I said through gritted teeth.

  I stared right into his eyes as I squeezed against his fist as hard as I could. The air was filled with a sound similar to dry twigs snapping, followed by an inhuman scream. Terry’s bones crumbled like old biscuits.

  The crowd gasped.

  He dropped to his knees, frantically clawing at my closed fist in a futile attempt to prise my steel fingers from his shattered hand. I yanked him up and kneed him in the stomach just hard enough to wind him, like he’d done to me so many times before. Grunting, he folded over and I switched my grip from his crushed hand and seized him by the collar, wrapping the other around the base of his jacket.

  “Not so fun being on the receiving end is it?” I spat into his ear.

  With a tug, I lifted him right off his feet and spun around. Nearby were rows of bikes padlocked to a low rail. I ran forward and ground to a halt, launching Terry at the bikes. He sailed through the air and clattered against them head first. Bully and bikes collapsed into a pile of spokes and gears. Terry made a whining sound and rolled about on the heap, cupping his broken hand.

  My breath was ragged as I stared unbelieving at the scene in front of me.

  I just beat up Terry.

  All eyes were on me. I breathed out hard and when I spoke, my voice was shaking. “You all saw right? He started this.”

  There were murmurs of agreement from the crowd as people woke up from their roles as observing statues. Someone shouted “he deserved it!” from within the masses. With a shaking finger, I pointed at a young kid with a Mohawk and un-tucked shirt. “You got a mobile phone?” He nodded. “Okay, call an ambulance. I’m going home.”

  9

  That evening, after the hype of my fight with Terry had died down, I was getting myself ready for the night out. My stomach buzzed with excitement. Soulfire pounded from my computer speakers at full volume and several different shirts lay strewn across my bed.

  My phone vibrated on the desk. It was Tim replying to a text I’d sent earlier, inviting him out.

  Well up4 it m8! I’ll b at urs in about an hr.

  Tim arrived armed with a shopping bag full of lager cans. He bounded up to my room and sank down on the desk chair. Mikey came in to say hi and Tim pulled some beers out of the bag. He threw one to me and my brother, then cracked a third open himself. He took a long pull from the beer and set it on the side. I opened mine. The beer was warm but tasted good. “So, any gossip?” he asked, resting his arms over the back of the chair. Mikey and I exchanged a look. “You could say that,” laughed my brother. Tim straightened up. “Serious? like what?” “Rocky here beat Terry to a pulp.” Tim’s jaw dropped. “Shut up, no way!”

  Mikey gestured towards me and I nodded, trying not to smile. Maybe I should have felt more remorse for what I’d done, but I simply didn’t. Terry was a truly vile human being who revelled in my misery. Now he wouldn’t be bothering anyone else in a hurry. There were of course potential backlashes due to his father being who he was, but I’d decided to cross that bridge when I came to it.

  “It’s true,” I smiled.

  Tim took a second to shake the confusion from his head. Then he stood up and gave me a hi-five. “Yes! Alex, you legend! I am so happy right now. That guy is such a dick. I want a full breakdown — spare nothing!”

  So I told him what had happened. He gasped and winced at the right time in his usual theatrical way. Afterwards he held out his can towards me. I tapped mine against it.

  “Here’s to standing up to dickheads all over the world!”

  Downstairs, I put a couple of Pizzas in the oven and slipped thirty pounds out of the emergency money jar, giving Mikey the remaining half.

  “Looks like someone has finally grown a set of balls,” he said with a smile.

  The taxi dropped us all off on the road leading to the house party. I could hear the steady boom of music as soon as I opened the car door. The party was only a few minutes from town, so we said goodbye to Mikey and started walking in the opposite direction. “So, Gabriella out tonight?” asked Tim pulling the collar of his jacket up around his neck. I felt the familiar stab of emotions at the mention of her name. “No, she has some family thing going on.” He made a disapproving noise. “You would have been the centre of attention with her on your arm.” “Tim she wouldn’t have been anywhere near my arm. It’s not like that.” He rolled his eyes. “Sure mate, whatever.”

  Ahead of us, I could see the bustling life of Friday night Chapter Hill. In the evenings, the place shed its casual town vibe and pulled on a seedy big city coat of bright lights and thumping music. Groups of underage teenagers hung out near off licences, drinking from cider bottles wrapped in paper bags and dragging on badly rolled cigarettes. Drunk patrons talked loudly outside pubs and bars, and yelled at women who wobbled past in miniskirts and tall heels.

  We headed for the Pheasant, stopping shy of the old style door. Tim pulled a cigarette out of a pack in his shirt pocket and sparked it up. Thick rolls of smoke climbed into the air. He offered me one, but I raised a hand. He shrugged and took a deep drag before continuing his argument.

  “Regardless of what you say, I think Gabriella has a soft spot for you.”

  The idea made me smile, even if it was one that I didn’t truly believe. I got the impression it was more of a wounded puppy scenario; she felt that I needed looking after. Still it was an amazing thought. Just thinking about the possibility made my stomach do somersaults.

  “Maybe,” I shrugged in an effort to appease him.

  After Tim had smoked his cigarette, he dropped it to the ground and crushed it under his boot heel. As we headed inside, I noticed with a sigh of relief that there were no bouncers to deny me entry.

  The interior looked like any other English pub. A long wooden bar lined one side, manned by bar staff in black shirts. The opposite was home to tables and chairs as well cracked leather sofas. Gambling machines stood huddled in the far corner, winking and whistling like shady con artists hoping to dazzle patrons into giving away their money. The pub had no music, instead dozens of voices mixed together, producing a hum of friendly sound. Richard, Elliot and a good chunk of the football team were already drinking at the bar. Richard saw us enter and walked over. He draped his beer-arm around my shoulders. “Lads, can I have your attention please!” he shouted. The rest of the crowd turned to face us. Confused I turned to Tim, who shrugged. “Let’s hear it for Alex Eden. Chapter Hill’s very own Chuck Norris!”

  There was a roar of cheering from the football guys and beers were held skyward. I felt my face flush. Guess they heard then.

  Richard ushered me towards the bar. “Two of your finest lagers please mate,” he said to the barman, who rolled his eyes in response and poured two Fosters.

  The conversation flowed as freely as the alcohol. Word had spread like an epidemic about my fight with Terry. Everyone wanted the inside scoop. The guys crowded around as I recounted the story, making sure to downplay the part where I had crushed his hand with mine. They made approving noises and cheered at each key point. It appeared that no one actually liked Terry. Instead it seemed most people had been too scared to stand up to him. My actions had burst the fear bubble.

  My encounter was a cue for others to recount stories of idiotic things Terry and his gang had done. I laughed so hard, I had to grip the bar to stop myself falling over. The beers kept pouring and the good atmosphere carried on.

  On my way to the toilet, I noticed the one person not enjo
ying himself. Andrew Pearson glowered at me from a table near the back corner. His girlfriend, Leila Riches was busy talking to him, but he didn’t alter his focus. When I emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, he still hadn’t changed position. He simply rolled his half-empty pint on its axis and glared.

  Looks like he heard about Terry, I thought as I made my way back to the group. I couldn’t have cared less.

  After four more beers and a couple of shots, none of which I paid for, we left the Pheasant and headed for Bakoo. Richard suggested we stagger our arrival. Apparently bouncers often turned away large groups of guys. I had no clue about nightclub etiquette.

  Tim and I joined the back of the queue first. I leaned against the wall. My head was starting to feel woolly. All my thoughts had to wade through water.

  A group of girls tottered past us. One of them leaned towards me. “Wake up darlin’ I’ll be expecting a snog later!” Her words were followed by a cackle of drunken laughter as the group moved on.

  “You okay?” asked Tim, inspecting me with a squinted eye as he drained another cigarette.

  I sighed. “Yeah I’m fine. I’m a bit of a lightweight if I’m honest.”

  Understatement of the decade.

  I’d only ever been drunk once before in my life. At a barbeque Mum and John had hosted in Birmingham. I’d sat in a corner of the garden alone all night, nursing my contemporary woes with several bottles of cider. Nowadays the very smell of the stuff made me want to chuck.

  “Total lightweight,” laughed Tim. “Well you better suck it up or we won’t be getting in.”

  I waved a heavy hand. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

  We moved up the steps to the front of the queue and I scanned the doormen. One, a stocky black guy looked like he won UFC championships in his spare time. The other, a fat bald man, had a bright orange beard and a metal rod speared through the middle of his nose. To top off the look, he had the word hate tattooed across both knuckles. If these were the guys Tim’s friends Baz and Kel had picked a fight with, then they were two very stupid people indeed.