by Dean Mayes
Students, teachers and parents lined the perimeter, a few feet back from the outside lane. The majority of them were watching in earnest, cheering and clapping, while other students mingled in groups a little way off, sitting on the grass and sunning themselves, chatting and laughing, happy to be out of the classroom for the day. They weren’t so much focused on the events on the track as they were on the sun which shone brightly above them. It was a perfect day.
Jeremy, Wayne and a group of boys were roughhousing with each other further back still, content to be kicking a football back and forth. The senior events weren’t scheduled until much later and, aside from Jeremy and a couple of the other boys, the majority of the group weren’t participating at all. None of them were particularly interested in participating—neither in the events themselves nor mixing with the larger student body—that much was clear. Despite repeated efforts by several teachers—including Miss Glasson—to get them to join in with the rest of the school, the boys had thus far resisted and the teachers eventually relented, reasoning that, so long as they weren’t causing trouble, their recreation could be tolerated.
Mr. Baxter was patrolling the perimeter of the track, armed with a clipboard and a whistle, supervising the heats. Occasionally, he would throw a malevolent glare in the boys’ direction—clearly unimpressed with their lack of consideration—but they dismissed him with smart-alec pejoratives that he couldn’t hear.
Jeremy, despite being outwardly dismissive of the athletics trials, was secretly looking forward to the senior 400 metre event in which he was entered. Occasionally, he would take a break from the others to watch the trials before being pulled back into the group. The others invariably engaged in rough play whilst kicking the football and Jeremy did his best to avoid getting into the middle so that he didn’t injure himself. Consequently, the other boys gave him a hard time, laughing at him in a manner that was mostly insincere.
Everything he’d endured since his father and Asher’s violent outburst had weighed heavily on him. The diversion of the athletics trials, strangely, proved welcome in taking his mind off of his circumstance.
That was until he heard a rumble of a familiar car’s engine behind him. Jeremy turned and scanned the boundary of the school’s sports field, until his eyes locked onto the familiar burgundy coupe that had pulled up into a vacant parking space and idled for a moment before its driver killed the engine.
Jeremy felt his stomach plunge.
He had continued to ignore Mickey’s frequent text messages that hit his phone relentlessly at all hours. He’d tried to keep his association with the gang secret from his school mates.
What the hell are they doing here? his mind screamed.
In the coupe itself, Gavin and Mickey merely sat back in their seats and watched the group of boys in silence as they continued to kick the football.
Jeremy continued to study the vehicle discreetly. The occupants made no move to exit which probably meant that they were just going to watch.
Eventually, Jeremy decided that he’d had enough with the boys and he left them to wander over to the track where he sat down on the grass and fished through his school bag for his lunch box.
“You’ve had enough of being paid out, huh?”
Jeremy turned where he sat to see Wayne sauntering towards him.
“They’re being a bunch of dick-heads,” Jeremy mumbled nervously through a mouthful of sandwich.
Wayne sat down beside him and scanned the sports field, shielding his eyes from the sun.
“Maybe you’re the dick-head,” Wayne sneered, digging Jeremy in the ribs causing him to flinch and slap Wayne’s hand away.
“The guys reckon you’re gonna go into Miss Glasson’s retard class. They’ll be calling you worse than dick-head then.”
Jeremy flashed Wayne an angry glower and turned away from him.
“That’s none of their business…” he hissed. “…Or yours, arse-hole, so shut your mouth.”
Wayne held up his hands mock defensively then and clucked noisily.
“Hey—I’m on your side mate. If that’s what you feel you need to do to get by. There’s no shame in admitting you have a problem.”
This time, Jeremy balled his injured hand into a fist and shook it warningly at Wayne.
“You’re really pushing it.”
Wayne chuckled softly and nudged Jeremy again, less aggressively this time. When he spoke, his tone became uncharacteristically sincere.
“I’m just messing with ya. Look, I’d rather be in a class with Miss Glasson than Baxter any day. He’s nothing but an up-himself prick. Has anything more happened since he kicked you out of class?”
Jeremy shook his head and tossed the remaining portion of his sandwich aside.
“Nope. I think Miss Glasson might have said something to get me off the hook. She’s a pain in the arse sometimes but…she’s a bit of alright.”
Both boys paused as the crack of a starter’s pistol sounded nearby and another group of sprinters—girls this time—broke away from the blocks.
Wayne nodded slowly as the boys followed the girls with their eyes as the girls sprinted away.
“Well, I think you should do it. Miss Glasson is pretty good and she tries real hard. I reckon it’s an awesome class to be in.”
Jeremy turned toward Wayne then and studied him curiously.
“What?” Wayne retorted with dramatic indignity. “You think I got to be a smart arse on my own? Shit mate, if I hadn’t done time in her class last year, I would have been in a much worse position than you are now. It’s not only you shady bastards that need a leg up.”
Jeremy smiled wanly for the first time and regarded Wayne with a nod that suggested a sort of respect.
“So…” Wayne began, pointing limply at the dressing on Jeremy’s injured hand. “Anyone called you out on that yet?”
Jeremy’s smile instantly faded and he pulled his hand down out of view.
“No. Why?”
Again, Wayne held his hands up in front of him.
“Hey, I was just aski…”
“Yeah…well don’t ask,” Jeremy hissed. “And don’t be going and mouthing off to anyone about what you think you might know. Because you don’t know anything—alright?”
An uncomfortable tension settled between them and Wayne feared that Jeremy might actually lash out at him. He began to offer Jeremy an apology when, without warning, the group of boys recklessly crashed into both of them from behind, pinning Jeremy and Wayne to the ground underneath a scrum.
Jeremy’s head was slammed into the earth so hard that he saw stars and a wave of nausea fountained up inside him. He cried out in pain. His anger at Wayne forgotten, it had instead blossomed into a fury at the callous act by the group, but he couldn’t move underneath the writhing mass.
Struggling to free himself, Jeremy flailed with one free hand, trying to gain some purchase on one of the individuals on top of him in order to push them away. As soon as the bodies fell away from him, Jeremy’s entire body spasmed and he sprang to his feet like a crazed animal, spitting and swinging his arms. A knifing pain between his temples continued to fuel his anger.
Jeremy singled out the ring leader, a tall and muscular teen named Chad who was laughing sarcastically as the boys began picking themselves up off the ground. Chad had been needling Jeremy all morning and leading the others in doing so.
Jeremy launched at him with his arm outstretched and caught him directly across his wind pipe. Chad’s eyes bulged out of his head as he felt the air being sucked from his lungs. He crashed to the ground, hitting his head in a similar fashion as Jeremy had before. As the stars began swirling before the boy’s eyes, Jeremy scrambled to his feet and prepared to pounce. At the last moment however, Jeremy was grabbed by Wayne and another boy who dragged him backward in attempt to calm him down.
“Man, we was just mucking ’round. It’s alright, man!” the other boy pleaded frantically as the others assisted Chad up off the grass.
/> Jeremy struggled, trying to tear himself from them. He let out a guttural scream as he broke an arm free and swung around, slamming the fist of his injured hand into the cheek of the boy and sending him reeling. Wayne let go and backed away as quickly as he could to avoid getting struck himself.
As Jeremy prepared to hone in on Chad once more, a hand slapped down hard on his shoulder and spun Jeremy like a top. Jeremy looked up into the eyes of Mr. Baxter.
“What the bloody hell is going on here!” Baxter bellowed furiously.
Jeremy was too stunned and breathless to speak.
“S…sir,” Wayne began desperately. “Jeremy wasn’t doi…”
“I don’t wanna hear from you, Robinson!” Baxter barked savagely, his hand still clasped like a vice on Jeremy’s shoulder. “I was talking to Delfey here.”
Baxter shoved Jeremy like a rag doll and stepped toward him. The crowd of students, teachers and parents in their immediate vicinity went silent as they turned their attention toward the evolving confrontation. One of those present was Miss Glasson.
Over by the fence of the sports field, Gavin sat forward in his seat and peered through the windshield at the sudden turn of events. He reached out and nudged Mickey, who was dozing beside him. Mickey sat bolt upright and blinked the sleep away as Gavin silently pointed out at the sport field.
“You’ve been screwing around all morning out here,” Baxter continued. “…And now you’re causing fights, disrupting everyone else’s enjoyment through your own selfishness!”
Jeremy stumbled where he stood, shaking his head breathlessly and trying to respond. But the dizziness and the pain in his head prevented him from doing so. The other boys around him were backing away, all of them sensing that things were about to get nasty.
“Sir…” Wayne interjected again, more forcefully this time. He stepped towards Baxter and Jeremy. “Jeremy wasn’t doing anything wrong. He wa—”
Without warning, Baxter lunged toward Wayne and pushed him, causing him to lose his balance and fall to the ground. Jeremy flinched in shock, as did the others.
“I told you to shut up, you little black bastard!” Baxter yelled satanically. A collective gasp rippled through those watching nearby, including Miss Glasson who stepped forward and grabbed onto Baxter’s wrist.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Stephen?!” she whispered angrily, trying to get herself in between Jeremy and Baxter.
“Butt out of this, Louisa,” Baxter hissed in reply, pulling his hand away. He pushed past her and strode up to Jeremy.
Stunned, Miss Glasson turned around angrily.
“Stephen! If you do this, I’ll have no choice but to report it,” she implored.
Baxter paused momentarily, but didn’t look back at her.
“You’ve already crossed the line,” she added, hoping to stop him.
Baxter simply shook his head and glared at Jeremy.
“I’ve had enough of your bullshit, Delfey,” he seethed, grabbing Jeremy’s shirt front and holding it tight. “You are a constant disruption to this school and you have no future here. I’m going to make sure of that.”
Jeremy’s face went rigid. The fear in his expression was suddenly replaced by anger and he steeled himself where he stood.
“I didn’t do anything wrong!” he shouted suddenly. He lunged forward and shoved his elbow into Baxter’s stomach as hard as he could, causing Baxter to double over and clutch at his abdomen. He staggered back, tearing Jeremy’s T-shirt in the process.
Jeremy stood before his teacher, stunned. His heart was racing. He stared in disbelief then looked at everyone around him, all of whom were staring back at him. Miss Glasson stepped forward, her arm outstretched, her expression sympathetic, pleading.
Jeremy stepped back, hesitated, then turned and ran. Tears began streaming from his eyes as his emotions overtook him.
“Jeremy!” Miss Glasson called after him.
Jeremy made it to the perimeter of the ground and leaped over the railing, catching himself on a loose piece of wire which caused him to fall in a heap on the other side. Ignoring the pain, Jeremy got to his feet, spun around and found himself face to face with a compact BMW sports car.
Mr. Baxter’s BMW sports car.
His anger surged once more. He shot a glance behind him to see Baxter striding toward him from the track, yelling and shaking his fist in the air.
Jeremy turned towards the coupe where he saw both Gavin and Mickey looking at him from inside. Their expressions were expectant—encouraging almost.
Jeremy didn’t hesitate.
He struck out, kicking the front passenger side headlight as hard as he could, shattering the glass and crumpling a section of the bonnet immediately above it.
Then he stormed off out of the car park, out of the school, disappearing down the street.
Gavin and Mickey exchanged glances as they watched Jeremy disappear from view. As Mickey kept his attention on the sports car just three spaces across from them, Gavin’s attention had turned toward the arrogant-looking teacher storming toward the fence, followed by a woman and a group of students.
As he tilted his head slightly to one side, a curious smile formed at the edge of his lips and his mind began to work over an idea that had seeded itself there.
Chapter 26
He was vaguely aware of the door to his hospital room opening, but he did not immediately register his awareness of her.
A mighty bandage covered one side of Rex’s face, obscuring his right eye and cheek bone which, so he had been told, had been fractured as a result of the assault wrought upon him by his daughter. His nasal passages were filled with wadding and covered with additional plaster to hold it in place, making it nearly impossible to breath.
My own daughter has done this.
Even now, days later, Rex could hardly believe it.
Slowly, he blinked his good eye and winced at the sharp pain from his injured one. In his misery, he had a flash of irony that he probably looked just like his mother had when her own eye had been damaged. He focused on Belle momentarily as she shut the door behind her, then he turned away as she stood at a distance from his bed.
He could see in his peripheral vision that her expression was stony; her eyes, though glassy and red rimmed from lack of sleep, still bored into his like a drill with an intensity that was immediately unsettling.
In that instance, he turned his head further away from her, unable to meet her gaze.
When she spoke, Belle’s voice was ice cold.
“Do you have any idea what you did the other night?” she began.
Rex just shook his head slowly, wearily, immediately wishing she would leave the room.
“You’ve nearly destroyed Asher—not to mention what you’ve done to Ruby. The girls—they won’t eat, they can’t sleep. Asher is wetting her bed – she’s twelve years old for Christ’s sake! Jeremy won’t talk to me. I’m scared we’ve lost him.”
Belle immediately plucked a tissue from her hand bag. She never thought that she would shed so many tears as she had over the past four days. The enormity of what she faced both here in the hospital room and at home was overwhelming. It was crushing her. She had spent hours—days even—preparing for this confrontation with her husband. Now she was here, Belle could feel her resolve collapsing already.
“What do you expect me to do about it?” he rasped, before holding his hands out toward her.
“Nothing,” Belle responded bitterly. “There is absolutely bugger all you can do about it, Rex. I just wanted you to know just how much damage you’ve caused. I wanted to make sure that you understand how you’ve crushed those children.”
Belle paused, steeling herself to deliver the ultimatum she had built herself up to deliver.
“When they release you from here, don’t you even think about coming home. Do you hear me? Do you understand me?”
Rex remained silent, brooding. The air in the room became thick with tension and Belle’s emotion
s see-sawed between grief and fury the longer he said nothing.
“You’ve got nothing to say to me?” she interrogated incredulously.
Rex squeezed his good eye shut, feeling needles of pain pepper his injured eye once more as a result of his action.
“You’ve said your piece,” Rex whispered shakily. “Now go away – leave me alone.”
Without warning, Belle pounced at the bed and grabbed her husband’s face in her hands, pulling his head roughly in her direction.
“I haven’t nearly said my piece, you miserable bastard!” she growled with an intensity that caught him off guard. “Ever since Mum and Ruby came to live with us, you’ve been so angry and so destructive, wiping yourself out night after night and taking it out on all of us. Why do you do that, Rex? Why do you hate us all so much that you’re willing to tear us all apart?”
For the first time, Belle saw something in her husband’s face that she hadn’t seen in a very long time—if, in fact, she had ever seen it.
It was fear.
“What is it, Rex?” she pressed, harder this time, subconsciously capitalising on his faltering demeanour. “Tell me. I know you’re keeping something from me and I want to know what it is. What’s this hatred that drives you? Is it me? Is it the children? Is it your mum?”
His cheeks flushed then and his lip began to quiver.
“I-I don’t hate you,” he stammered impotently, retreating into his pillow as much as her grip would allow.
“Who do you hate then—and why!?” Belle yelled grabbing the neck of his T-shirt in her hands, her knuckles turning white. “Is it Ruby!? Damn you, Rex. Tell me!”
Rex began to shake and, without warning, he let out an anguished cry that caused Belle to stagger back in shock.
Rex dropped his head and his arms fell to his sides as he began to cry and sob uncontrollably.
Collecting herself, Belle stared across at her husband, caught completely by surprise.
“Stop!” he pleaded, choking back tears that fell over his uninjured cheek and stained red the bandage covering his right eye.
“Every time I see that child…in our house…” Rex managed through choking sobs. “All I can s-see…is her—all I can see is Aggy!”
