Picking up the Pieces - 1. Chapter 1

Picking up the Pieces

If I was a real wimp, or the fairy they often call me, I'd be crying my eyes out after what the four of them had just done. Instead I'm sitting here on the edge of the road with a smile on my face and the pieces of my broken skateboard scattered round me. I'd like to get up and try and punch one of them, especially Justin Brooks who's their leader, but I know I'd never get near him. His two chief henchmen, Carl Sinclair and Rory Todd would see to that. Not so sure what the fourth one, Brian Beck would do. He's always with them, making up their little gang of four that terrorise the weaker and loner kids, both at our school and in the neighbourhood. Somehow though he doesn't seem to get the same pleasure from it they do – there's almost a reluctance at times and the others sometimes have to egg him on.

I know they'd like to see me crying. They've achieved that on more than one occasion in the past, but it ain't gonna happen today. And if I'm not going to sit and cry they really would like me to get up and charge at them, fists swinging. Then, as happened a couple of weeks ago, Carl and Rory would grab me and hold my arms so Justin could land some punches where they'd hurt, but the bruises wouldn't be visible until I was undressed. That was one of those times Brian didn't seem to have his heart in it and he actually called on Justin to stop. Mind you, there was someone coming down the lane when he said that, so he could as easily have been looking after their skins as mine.

I really, really ought to be crying about them smashing my skateboard. Why they chose to do it today though is a puzzle as they've seen me out and about on it many times. It might possibly be because I called them 'wankers' after they'd tripped me up in the corridor at school today. There were too many other kids as well as a couple of teachers around though for them to do anything immediately afterwards, but I know they heard. I probably should have called them 'fuckers' since based on the bragging they do at school they've had virtually every girl over the age of fourteen. But they're almost certainly wankers too as, let's face it, every teenage kid is one of those – even me. Or perhaps that should be especially me. No girls are going to look at loser me and to be honest, I don't really want any to. I don't look at girls, but I do look at boys – very carefully and making sure none of them see me looking. They may have their suspicions that I'm a fairy, or a poofter as the four of them sometimes call me, but they haven't got any proof.

So there I was boarding down the road when I see Carl and Rory in front of me, having appeared out of a side road. I stop and decide to turn round and beat a hasty retreat, but on doing so I see Justin and Brian appear from the side road I'd just passed. As I was trapped I decided to wait and see what they were going to do today. I expected a few punches, maybe a Chinese burn or two. At least it was too public here for them to do what they did to me in the park a couple of months ago. Then they'd dragged me into the bushes and stripped me down to my underpants before walking off taking my clothes with them. Those they dumped in a pile a couple of hundred yards away so several people saw me as I walked across the grass to reach them. It was so humiliating, people, including kids, seeing me in just my boxers. Today though Justin picked up my board, walked with it to the kerb, laid it down, wheels upwards, part on the kerb and part in the road, before proceeding to jump on it until it split into pieces. Then the others tossed the pieces towards where I was standing. I didn't try to stop them – there was no point, one against four.

It wasn't much of a board. None of your high quality, high tech stuff. Indeed it wasn't even new when I got it about three years ago. I suspect my mum got it from a charity shop, but that didn't bother me. I'd been saying for months that I wanted one, but I knew we didn't have much money since dad died, so I was both surprised and happy when she gave it to me at Christmas.

Dad had died when I was nine. He was in the Army and was blown up by a landmine while on a tour of duty in Afghanistan. I can remember clear as day the morning he left our house for the last time. He hugged me, kissed me, told me to be good, look after mum and that he'd be back soon. Then he saluted me and I saluted him in return, same as we'd done for previous deployments. This one was different though as he didn't come back. Well, some of him did, supposedly, in a wooden box. But from what I've read recently, I now wonder how much of him was there. I also remember equally well the day a car drew up outside the house we lived in and two officers got out, donned their caps and walked toward our front door. Mum knew as soon as she saw them get out of the car. She hugged me as we'd been sitting together on the settee watching TV before we heard the car draw up. Then she started to cry a little and told me I had to be brave, before she went and opened the front door. That was when my life changed. Of course I also remember his funeral, buried with full military honours they called it, but I try not to think of that too often.

I didn't know too much of what was happening after that, or why. Mum told me some things then and some others later. I'm sure she was trying to spare me the details and keep my life normal, but despite her efforts it was never going to be the same as it had been. I found out later that Dad had taken out a life insurance policy, but it wasn't for a large sum. Thus, when we had to move out of the house where we were living, because it belonged to the army, mum couldn't afford to buy another. We didn't have any close relatives with whom we could live because both my parents, like me, were single children. Consequently she had to rent and we moved into a small two bedroom flat in a different town. Mum told me later that she needed to make a clean break as there were too many reminders had we stayed. I wasn't happy about it as it meant I lost all my friends and had to start in a new school where I knew nobody. The other big change was that mum had to get a full time job, whereas before she'd only worked part time and was usually finished by the time I got home from school.

Why mum moved us where she did I never knew, but I stood out immediately at school because I didn't speak with a Birmingham accent. That, plus me not having the right branded trainers, jeans, backpack and so on, quickly marked me out as being different. Add to that I wasn't very sporty and I definitely fell outside of the mainstream. But I survived and mum and I had each other which was the important thing.

My life did get better in some ways after she bought me the skateboard. It was the Christmas after I'd moved to the senior school which was when the bullying had increased. At least with my board, once I'd learned how to master it, I could roam the streets or go to the skate park. There I found a few friends, most of whom seemed to be similar outcasts. We became a close knit group and life started to look up.

The good days didn't last for long though. I'd noticed for a little while that mum didn't appear to be her usual happy and cheerful self. But I had no idea she was ill until one evening when she sat me down and told me we needed to have a serious conversation. It must have been very hard for her to tell me she had cancer; almost as hard as it was for me to hear her say that word. She told me she had kidney cancer and that it was rare for people under fifty to get that. She was only in her forties though, so it just wasn't fair that she should get it. I had no idea of what to expect, but she deteriorated quickly. She wanted to stay at home for as long as possible to avoid me having to go into a home. We were lucky in having a very kind neighbour who cooked meals for me as well as doing shopping and spending time with mum. But eventually the point arrived at which she could no longer stay at home and had to go into a hospice.

That was the point at which I had to go into a home while they tried to find a foster family for me as there were no relatives who I could go and live with. I hadn't been there long when two things happened. Firstly, mum died and rather amazingly, according to my social worker, a family offered to foster me. I'd been told that it wasn't easy to find foster parents for kids of my age. Kids going through puberty and hormones taking effect caused problems, so I was told. Thus I'd been prepared to have to stay in the home for perhaps years – maybe until I was too old to stay there any longer. But I was lucky and this family came forward, Mr & Mrs Burton. Adrian and Marie were their names and they had two kids, actually twins. Their names were Peter and Paul and they were seven years old. They were nice enough kids and over time I did get to think of them as being little brothers. At first I did wonder if the Burton's had agreed to foster me as I'd provide a built in baby sitter for the twins when they wanted to go out in the evenings, but although that happened a bit, it wasn't too often.

So I slowly settled into a new life. Unsurprisingly it wasn't one I was really happy with. I'd lost both my parents and the natural love that came from them and although the Burtons cared, it wasn't the same. After dad died I'd started to become a loner and that got even worse now, especially with the bullying I was getting at school. Being without any real friends I was an easy target for them. I guess no other kid wanted to help me for fear of becoming a target themselves. After all, if they were picking on me they couldn't be picking on anyone else.

I was really getting very down and today just happened to be the anniversary of when dad had been killed. Thus I'd not been feeling bright all day and now to cap it all they destroy the board mum had bought me. I let them have their laugh looking at me surrounded by the bits of my board, although I'm sure they can't work out why I'm laughing. Not surprising they can't since I don't know why myself. After a couple of minutes they walk off down the street. I watch them go, give them a V sign – fat lot of point in that as its to their backs – before standing up, collecting the bits of my board and walking home.

I dump the bits of the board in the wheelie bin outside the side door, not wanting anyone to see and having to explain what happened. I say 'hello' to Marie and tell her I'm going up to my room to get on with some homework. Part of that's true as I do go to my room, but I just lie down on the bed and start to cry into my pillow. The crying goes on for ages, but I guess must have stopped at some point and I hear one of the twins knocking on my bedroom door to say dinner is ready. I consider telling him I'm not hungry, but if I do that it'll only bring Marie upstairs wanting to know what's wrong. Normally I like my food and she is a good cook, even if not as good as my mum was, so I decide to get up and go downstairs. I'm quiet during dinner, only speaking when someone asks me a question. Once we've finished I help clear the table and with the washing up, before saying that I'm going back to my room. The twins are disappointed when I say that as we often have a little game of football in the back garden, but tonight I'm not in the mood.

Instead I start to read a book, but my heart isn't in it, so after a while I put it back on the bedside table and just lay there in the dark thinking. I guess I must have dropped off to sleep as when I come to it is totally dark in the room and the house is quiet. I switch the bedside light on and look at my little alarm clock that stands on top of it. No wonder it is all quiet as the time is almost half past one. Suddenly though my mind is clear and the doubts and confusion I had when I came upstairs are gone. I know what I have to do, the only questions are how and where.

I've got nothing left to live for. No mother, no father, no brothers or sisters, not even any close friends. Them breaking my skateboard this afternoon was the final straw. I just can't take any more of the tricks and insults I get every day. What's the point?

I start to consider the possibilities. I suppose I might be able to find some of Marie's tablets, or maybe cut my wrists. Not sure I could find enough tablets to be certain though and cutting my wrists would make a hell of a mess, even if I could do it. Anyway, I wouldn't want her or Adrian to find my body, let alone one of the twins. That would traumatise them for life I reckon and they don't deserve that. So that also rules out hanging myself in the house.

It's going to have to be done outside, but how? No point trying to run in front of a car or a lorry - no guarantee it would kill me and I don't fancy the idea of being maimed for the rest of my life. Also, it would be unfair on the driver who hit me as they'd have that on their conscience for the rest of their life. Same thing applies to going and lying on the railway line. I could jump off the bridge over the river, but there's a couple of problems with that idea. I can swim quite well and the water is fairly deep, so I might survive the fall and then automatically start swimming. Also someone could see me on the parapet and try to save me – what if I struggled and somehow pulled them with me?

No, it has to be just me. I lie there thinking for a while and finally the answer comes to me. There's an old quarry about a mile away. It's about fifty or sixty foot deep I reckon, mainly filled with water, but there are rocks and boulders around the edges. Also I wouldn't have too long to regret my decision on the way down unlike if I jumped off a tower block.

With that decided I get off the bed and pull on my trainers. I'm still wearing the same blue jeans and the red and blue sweatshirt I had on this afternoon. Marie bought it for me at a jumble sale. It's got some funny foreign word boldly printed on the front of it. I've no idea what the word means, but it's nice and warm, which'll be good tonight as I think it's quite chilly out. Wouldn't do to catch my death, would it? I have a little chuckle at my own joke as I quietly close the bedroom door behind me before creeping down the stairs – being careful to avoid the one that squeaks. I suppose I should leave Adrian and Marie a note to say thanks for looking after me and it's nothing to do with them, but I think if I stop to write that it might give me time to change my mind. Instead I go out the front door, down the path and turn left in the direction of where the quarry lies on the far side of a small wood.

I hadn't gone far before I realised I hadn't thought this through very well. I'd not brought a torch with me and although there are streetlights on the roads, the woods would be in darkness. Fortunately however, it was full moon and there didn't appear to be any clouds in the sky, so hopefully it would stay that way as I couldn't risk going back to the house to find a torch. I was in luck as I saw nobody else while walking there, apart from one old drunk slumped on a bench.

Now the time was getting close as I entered the woods. I managed to find my way through them fairly easily as there was a path that led to the quarry. It was fenced off, but I knew from having been there before that there were some holes that I could crawl through. I was just about to kneel down to wriggle through one when I hear this loud voice behind me,

“Private Ryan, Halt! About turn!”

I knew that voice anywhere. It was my father's, but he'd died years ago, so that wasn't possible. And yet nobody else had ever called me Private Ryan. My actual name was Ryan James Stephenson, but dad had made a joke when I started marching round the house pretending to be a soldier, of calling me that. It wasn't until some years after he died when I saw the film on TV and realised the significance of the name.

Automatically I obeyed the order. I halted, turned about and stood to attention. There in front of me and not ten yards away, stood my father. He was dressed in his full military uniform just as I'd last seen him when he walked out of the house on his last posting. My mouth gaped open as I couldn't believe what my eyes were apparently seeing. My brain slowly started to get over the shock of what my eyes were telling it.

“Daaad...is that you?” I finally managed to say in not much more than a whisper.

“Yes, and no, Ryan. I'm not really me as in solid flesh and bones, but nor am I a figment of your imagination.”

I struggled to take that in, but decided to ask another question instead.

“But why are you here now?”

“Ryan, what were you intending to do?”

I dropped my head and looked at the ground. I couldn't bear to look him in the face.

“You've had a very rough deal in life son, what with me being killed and then your mum dying. You've had nobody to truly love you for some years now. You've been picked on and bullied at school. And yet you're still a good kid. You've not gone off the rails like many do.”

I stood and listened. I thought I could feel the love coming from him as it used to. The tears started to roll down my cheeks.

“Don't cry, Ryan. You're actually a very lucky young man.”

'Young man', nobody had ever called me that before! It sounded good somehow.

“Because of what's happened so far in your life, I've been allowed to come here and give you a glimpse into the future – and what might be your future. Of course, after I've shown you that you may still decide to walk on and jump into the quarry. But, that would be an awful waste and I know you're not really a quitter.”

I thought about that last word. I thought back to learning to ride a bike, learning how to skate and then progress to all the tricks I could do now. Used to be able to do would be more appropriate I said to myself seeing I no longer had a board, which was the basic reason I was here now.

I had nothing to lose by seeing what he wanted me to see. “Okay, show me.”

“There will be two short films, Ryan. Watch them carefully and don't say anything until both have finished.”

Some sort of screen appeared in front of the fence around the quarry and then I saw a dark blue BMW saloon and people about to get into it. I saw getting into the driver's seat was Justin Brooks's older brother, Terry. Justin got into the front passenger seat while Carl and Rory climbed into the back. Brian appeared on screen and looked to be getting in to sit beside Rory. The picture faded but quickly changed to one of a smoking wreck of a car that looked like a BMW which had evidently gone off the road and crashed into a couple of very large trees. The picture faded but was replaced by the front page of the local paper with a headline 'Teenagers killed in car crash.' I noticed the date – it was a few weeks ahead.

That film faded but another started. This was taken indoors but somewhere I didn't recognise. It was evidently a bedroom with a double bed with a grey patterned duvet cover and matching pillows. The camera panned round the room, three walls were painted in a dark blue and the other a sort of plum colour. On that wall was a large screen TV. Beneath it was a computer desk on which was sitting a small Christmas tree with little lights. Definitely not my room! The camera moved to show one part of the room not previously seen. Standing there were two naked teens, kissing and hugging each other. Why was my dad showing me a porn film I wondered, even as I started to get hard at what I was watching. I'd never seen a porn film, but I'd often wondered what it would be like to be doing what those two were.

I couldn't see the face of the boy at whom the camera was pointing, but he had his hands on the back of the other. His hands moved down from the shoulders and now I could see a birthmark on the back of the left shoulder. Brian Beck had one of those! The hands of the other boy moved lower down his back until they were cupping his arse. Brian leaned back disengaging from the kiss and now I could see the other boy. It was me!

At that point the film faded. I felt weird. My head was spinning trying to take in what I'd seen. I thought I might faint. From somewhere I found my voice,

“What was that I just saw?” I asked my father.

“You've been shown two things that might happen in the future, Ryan. The second one very much depends on what exactly happens in the first.”

I sort of nodded and mumbled something in reply.

“Now, I've got to go.”

“Will I see you again?”

“Not for a long while, unless you are stupid enough to go through that fence. Just live by that word on your sweatshirt.”

I'd always wondered what that word 'PIRKOIA' meant. I'd thought, perhaps even hoped, that it might be a rude word in Czech or Polish - something like 'Get Stuffed' or even 'Fuck Off' would be great.

“So what does it mean?”

He laughed as if he was reading my mind. “It's not what you thought, Ryan. It's a Maori word and means 'Be Happy'”.

And then just as suddenly as he'd appeared he was gone. Had he even been there I asked myself? Had I imagined everything? I walked slowly towards where he had been standing. Something glittered in the moonlight. I bent down and there on the ground was an old sixpence. I had a collection of those in the drawer of my bedside table. He'd always given me one each time he came home from a mission. This must have been the one he'd taken to give me when he returned from the last deployment!

Slowly I gathered my thoughts. The idea of killing myself was now gone from my mind. I had a puzzle, or maybe two, to solve – if I wanted to. The idea of Brian Beck and me being boyfriends was almost too much to take in. He'd never given me any indication that he might be gay and while I was happy to admit to myself that I very probably was, it was a fact I'd always kept hidden. They might taunt me as being one, but they had no proof other than I didn't have a girlfriend, although not many of the boys of my age did. But if they found out I was... it didn't bear thinking about. On the other hand, what I'd seen in that clip did have a lot of appeal – although maybe with another boy. Yet the clip was of me with Brian. But that could only happen if he wasn't in the car with the rest of them when it crashed...

I had some thinking to do and despite the hour my brain was in a whirl as I walked home.

                                                                                                               ===========