Storms - 6. Daniel

Julie was not especially tall, but I was no taller than she was, and I wondered briefly if I would be short forever, or if I’d eventually have this growth spurt everyone always talked about. My mum was petite. Perhaps my dad had been short as well.

She sat me down on the toilet in the accessibility bathroom and went to the sink to soak a wad of paper towels in cold water. She knelt in front of me and began to wipe my face.

‘So, what was that about?’ she asked softly after a minute.

I looked away and shrugged one shoulder. ‘Alec and Jason got an official warning from the school today. They think I told on them for hitting me last week. Which doesn’t make any sense, because Aziz was there too, and he didn’t get a warning, it seems.’

Julie frowned. ‘They’ve hit you before?’

I shrugged again. ‘Couple of times. It’s no big deal. I’ve had worse.’

I didn’t want to look at her, didn’t want to see her face. I knew what I’d find there, after all: pity. I hated pity. I didn’t want anyone’s pity. There were people in the world far more deserving of it than I. And still, to the extent that anyone ever felt anything for me other than annoyance or revulsion, they always seemed to pity me. It made me feel even more helpless than I already felt.

‘You shouldn’t let them treat you like that, you know,’ said Julie, and in my surprise I looked right at her after all.

‘Let them—?’ I began, but she cut me off.

‘You know what I mean. You’ve got to defend yourself.’

I laughed incredulously. ‘Julie, have you seen me?’

‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘You kind of stand out. And everything from your posture to your facial expressions say, hey, look at me, I’m vulnerable!’

I opened my mouth to argue, but couldn’t think of anything compelling to say. She was right, of course. I knew it. I just didn’t know how to do anything about it. I might as well be wearing a bullseye on my back, or a note that read, Kick me.

Julie put a hand on my knee and smiled up at me. ‘You’ve got to keep your head held high, Daniel. If you let them know that they can’t hurt you, if you look like you’re comfortable in your own skin . . .’

‘But I’m not comfortable in my own skin,’ I muttered, looking away again. I felt ashamed saying it. ‘Everything about my skin sucks.’

‘Well, you’ve got to fake it ’til you make it.’

‘I could never be like that. I could never be like—’ I hesitated. ‘I hate that you guys saw me like that. Your friends—I mean, that lot are . . . Well, they’re cool and—’

‘You mean Michael,’ she said, clearly seeing straight through my rambling. ‘Yeah, he’s pretty cool. I’m starting to think he has a bit of a hero complex, though. Needs to save everyone. I’d say it’s problematic, but in your case . . . Maybe you should let him.’

I blinked, and once again let my gaze come to rest on her face. She was smiling at me, and that look wasn’t pity. Or at least, pity wasn’t the dominant emotion. It took me a moment to identify what that expression actually meant, and then it hit me. Encouragement. Not something I was used to seeing.

‘Come on,’ she said, standing up and offering her hand. ‘Break’s almost over. We should get to English.’

I let her pull me to my feet, and we left the bathroom. As we headed down the corridor she started talking about normal, boring things. I pretended to listen. Then we turned a corner, and from the opposite direction came Loz. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen him that day, but it was the first time he looked straight at me. I froze, and thought I might piss myself.

‘English is the other way, you know,’ Julie told him helpfully.

‘Well, I need to piss, don’t I?’ he replied, rolling his eyes. ‘What are you looking at, wanker?’ he said to me.

‘Oh, piss off, Loz!’ said Julie.

‘Mind your own business, you slag!’ he shot back.

If I opened my mouth I thought I might be sick, despite the fact that I’d only eaten an apple since breakfast. It felt unfair to leave Julie hanging, though, so I put a hand on her arm and, swallowing, muttered, ‘It’s fine. Let’s just go.’

‘You should listen to your boyfriend, Julie,’ said Loz.

He continued past us, bumping into my shoulder, and Julie started walking again. My feet didn’t want to move. The spot where his arm had touched my shoulder burned, like a hot iron weight lingered there, pushing me into the floor. It hurt worse than the punches and kicks from before, worse than the scrape on my elbow from the asphalt. Julie stopped, turned her head and looked at me.

‘You okay, Dan?’ she asked.

I didn’t realise until then that I’d stopped breathing, and the breath I drew seemed to burn my lungs, oxygen rushing to my brain and making me feel lightheaded. Then I nodded, and started walking, catching up to her.

‘Fine,’ I said, once I was sure I could speak without throwing up.

‘I never know where I’m at with that guy,’ she said. ‘One moment he seems perfectly decent and the next he’s just the biggest dick on the planet. He’s usually pretty quiet regardless, though. Wonder what got him talking . . .’

I just shrugged.

* * *

A heavy, gnarled knot seemed to take root in my stomach, jostling with my guts for space, as I caught Loz looking at me several times over the course of the afternoon. I pretended that I hadn’t seen, pretended that it didn’t bother me to be around him. Part of me wanted to think that yesterday had all been a mistake, an accident. And another part of me asked, What, he tripped and accidentally got you off?

At the end of the school day, I lingered in the classroom, taking my time packing my things until everyone, including Mr. Bhat, had left and I was alone. That turned out to be a mistake. As I exited the classroom, Loz was waiting for me in the corridor.

‘Need to talk to you,’ he said gruffly. He turned and set off down the corridor and, wordlessly, I followed him.

He led me into an accessibility toilet and, locking the door behind us, turned to me. ‘Did you tell anyone?’

I swallowed. ‘About what?’ I asked, though I knew perfectly well what he was talking about.

‘You know about what!’ he snapped. ‘Did you tell anyone?’

I shook my head. ‘No. No, of course not.’

He nodded. ‘Good. Cause if you do I’ll fucking kill you.’ He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. ‘Also, I might show people this.’ He showed me the screen. On it was a photo of me, naked, in the shower. It was taken from behind, but my head was turned to the side, eyes closed, and you could clearly tell who it was.

‘I won’t tell anyone,’ I said in a small voice. ‘I swear.’

He nodded again.

For a few moments we just stood there, facing each other. He said nothing, but he didn’t leave either, and he stood between me and the door. His brown eyes bored into me, and I felt almost like he was looking through me. I couldn’t meet his eyes, kept my gaze fixed on his broad chest. I could tell, even through his school sweatshirt, how powerfully built he was.

I could have handled violence, I thought. I was used to that, used to being bullied, being pushed around, being hurt. But Loz was just staring at me, and I couldn’t gauge from that stare what he wanted, or even how I could ask him.

Finally, I cleared my throat and looked at his face again. ‘I . . . I don’t know what you—’

All at once, he was on me. He had me pushed up against the wall, kissing me, his tongue invading my mouth. I didn’t want to kiss him. I didn’t like Loz.

It felt . . . I don’t know how it felt. It was as though I shut down when he covered my body with his and pressed his lips against mine. I didn’t want to feel it, any of it. I just wanted it to stop. I don’t think I responded in any way, but he didn’t seem to care.

After that, I remember clothes being removed, and his body, too big and strong for me to fight. He took my hand. Made me do what I had run away from the previous day.

When it was over he pulled his trousers back on, gave me this look of anger and disgust, like I had made him make me do it, and said, ‘Monday after PE.’ Then he left without another word.

* * *

I walked home in a daze, unable or unwilling to think. Once again, it was like the events of the afternoon had happened to someone else, and I had watched from somewhere outside my body. Why should I dwell on something that hadn’t even happened to me?

I let myself inside the flat, and was surprised to find Mum dressed and on the sofa in the living room with a cup of tea, watching telly. She looked up when I entered. She had put on big golden hoop earrings, and straightened her hair, tying it back into a stylish bun. I hadn’t seen her this presentable since before the move.

‘Hey, there you are, Danny!’ she said, smiling. ‘Didn’t school let out an hour ago?’

I blinked. I had never known her to be able to tell. ‘Er, yeah,’ I said slowly. ‘Sorry I’m late . . . I should have texted.’

‘No, no, it’s okay!’ she said, and her smile looked a bit sad, like she knew what a crap mum she had been lately. ‘Everything all right?’

‘Yeah.’ I put down my bag and went over to the sofa. ‘Long day, is all. Just tired.’

She patted the seat next to her, and I sat. She kissed my cheek. ‘What did you do in school today?’

I shrugged. ‘You know. History, English Lit, Maths, RE . . .’ I hesitated. I had no idea what she was going for. ‘We’re doing nineteenth century literature in English right now. Dickens. Bleak House.’

Mum giggled. ‘As if life isn’t bleak enough when you’re a teenager, right?’ She ruffled my hair, and for a moment it was like I wanted to cry. It had been so long since she’d even talked to me properly, let alone touched me. ‘Hey,’ she went on. ‘I was thinking we could order a pizza tonight. Maybe watch a movie?’

It hit me, then. Today was benefits day. She had probably been shopping, cheered herself up. Those hoop earrings were new. Not that I begrudged her that. I just hoped she had remembered to fill up the biscuit tin in the kitchen with cash so I could afford to buy food for the rest of the month.

I smiled, in spite of everything, happy that she wanted to spend this one good day with her son. It could be so much worse. She could take her unemployment benefits and go get drunk or high. Instead she wanted to get a pizza and watch a movie with me. ‘Sure, Mum. That sounds like a great idea.’

We ordered double pepperoni and pineapple, and watched some rom com or another. Mum loved it, and for a moment it was like she looked her age; young and happy and beautiful. I knew that tomorrow it might all be over, so I snuggled up next to her, making myself small even though I was technically half an inch taller than her now, and let her put her arm around me and stroke my hair. It was nice to feel like a kid again.

I ate some pizza, and might have even been able to keep it all down. But when the movie was over, Mum went out into the kitchen to make some tea, and I was left alone with a car insurance advert. Suddenly the day came flooding back, every second of it in fast forward motion. It was like the room pressed in on me, constricting my lungs so I couldn’t breathe, and I ran to the bathroom and threw up.

‘Danny! Are you all right, baby?’ Mum came in and stroked my back. ‘Hope you haven’t caught a stomach bug!’

She put me to bed with a bucket next to me, kissed my forehead and stroked my hair, and I cried because for once I had a real mum.

I was sick one more time during the night. I woke from a nightmare and nearly missed the bucket. The next morning, Mum called the school and told them I was ill, and we spent Wednesday in our pyjamas on the sofa, watching crap telly and eating crisps and chocolate.

Thursday morning, she was gone again, a quiet, unresponsive shell unable to get out of bed, and I went back to school, my brief reprieve from life at an end.