Edenham Comprehensive

The first thing they do when they get into school early the next day is put up the posters they printed off of Reuben’s dad’s computer late last night. The notice board is the first to get plastered, but they don’t stop there; by the time the bell shrills for the start of registration, there’s at least one poster on every single wall of the school.

Tyler comes across one as he makes his way to his own form room. He catches sight of it out of the corner of his eye, and something about it makes him halt, turn and squint at it to make out the details. His eyes narrow as they travel further down the sheet of paper, his consternation growing steadily. When he reaches the end, he tears the poster from the blu-tack holding it in place and scrunches it into a paper ball before tossing it over his shoulder, his mouth set in a firm, narrow line.

His effort is fruitless, however, because there’s hundreds like it all over the school, each bearing the same, cheerful message:

Grade 3 Peer Mentoring Meeting at Lunch in Room 5.

The text is enclosed in an innocent speech bubble coming from a crude – yet strikingly accurate – caricature of Tyler, complete with his signature smirk.

He has no idea what’s going on, and he doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like it one bit. There’s one thing he is sure of, though.

Casey and Reuben are behind this.

He just wishes he knew what ‘this’ was.

***

“Do you think he’s seen them yet?” Casey asks Reuben while Mr. Roland’s taking the register, chewing on her bottom lip.

He gives her a look. “Case, they’ve only been up about five minutes. Give it-”

But before he can finish his sentence, there’s a sharp, abrupt knock at the door and Tyler walks in brusquely.

“Excuse me, Mr. Roland,” he says in his talking-to-teachers voice, “I was sent by Miss Cunnings. She wants to see Casey and Reuben.”

“Go on then,” the teacher says, waving a hand dismissively. After all, he thinks, it’s Tyler Westwood, the golden boy. His word is everything.

“Knew it,” Casey hisses to Reuben as they get out of their seats, every eye in the class on them, and hurry towards the waiting Tyler, who gives them a frosty smile as they approach. He shuts the door with as much composure as he can manage and leads them off a few metres so they’re out of earshot of the classroom.

“Good morning, Tyler,” Reuben says pleasantly, his face like an orange split in two.

Tyler completely ignores him; he merely brandishes one of their posters in their faces. “What is this?” he demands.

They look at him. “It’s a poster,” Casey replies matter-of-factly.

Tyler grits his teeth. “Yes, I can see that. What I meant was, what the hell do you think you’re playing at?”

Reuben scratches his head thoughtfully, and turns to look at her. “Not sure, really. We didn’t think we were playing at anything.”

“It’s just a meeting,” she points out. “A meeting to make us better mentors.”

“And the cartoon?” Tyler doesn’t look very impressed.

“Oh that? I drew it,” Reuben says innocently. “I thought it gave it that extra something, you know? I thought it was quite flattering.”

Tyler’s arm drops, a scowl scrawled across his face. “You’re up to something. And I’m going to find out what, just you wait and see.”

Without another word, he storms off, his leather shoes creaking on the polished floorboards. Once his blazer’s disappeared behind a corner, Reuben turns to Casey, chuckling.

“Well,” he smiles, “that went better than expected.”

She smiles back. “Now we just have to survive until lunchtime and pray more than one person turns up to the session.”

A spring in their step, they head back to their form room to face the rest of the day.

***

“Casey, stop pacing, you’re making me nervous.”

She pauses in the middle of the classroom long enough to glance at the clock mounted at the wall before resuming her frenetic movement, grimacing.

“Casey,” Reuben repeats, drawing her name out to make his complaint even more obvious. “Seriously, calm down.”

She halts, turns and glares at him. “Reuben, it’s been twenty minutes and not a single person has turned up.”

“People usually eat first half,” he reasons. “They’ll turn up in the second part of lunch, just you wait and see.”

She doesn’t share his unyielding optimism. However, just to appease him, she pulls out a chair and perches on the end of the cold, hard plastic. She opens her mouth to say something, but at that precise moment, there’s a dull knock on the door. Reuben jumps up instantly, grinning with triumph, and calls for them to come in.

It’s a few Grade 3s, two boys and a girl from their year that they just about recognise. Their eyes are darting around themselves, almost as if they’re expecting Tyler to jump out from behind a cupboard, declare that it was just a trap of some kind and haul them off to their impending doom.

“We’re here for the peer mentoring meeting?” one of them, the girl, says nervously.

“Great,” Reuben beams, giving Casey a pointed look. “Take a seat, go on.”

They do so, still looking like frightened rabbits waiting for the slaughter. Reuben smiles at them, trying to lighten the mood, but they don’t relax. They’ve developed a built-in defence mechanism to protect themselves against the cruel world, and it’s made them distrustful and cynical. He can’t blame them for being suspicious. He would be, in their shoes.

Steadily, more people file in, some alone, some in groups, but they all bear the same mixture of apprehension and anxiety. Most of them have realised that this is not, as it was advertised, a meeting about becoming better mentors.

“Reuben, I think we’ve waited long enough,” Casey murmurs, leaning over to him so the others can’t hear. “No one else is going to turn up.”

He nods, acknowledging her, and gets to his feet. “Well, you probably already know who I am,” he jokes, turning to address them all. “But for those of you who don’t, I’m Reuben, and this is Casey. I just want to go round the circle so you can all tell me your names.”

The girl on Casey’s right jumps, startled. “Uh, Karen.”

Reuben smiles and turns to the next person.

“Michael,” he mutters, and so it goes on.

“Harris.”

“Maya.”

“Gurpreet.”

“Liz.”

When they reach the end, Reuben nods, smiling slightly. “Good, good. Now we’re all acquainted, how about we get down to business?”

Amelia, a chubby girl with frizzy brown hair, raises her hand nervously.

“Oh, you don’t have to put your hand up,” he assures her. “If you have something to say, say it.”

“I, uh, I thought you didn’t like Tyler,” she says quickly, as if the words are burning her mouth and she can’t get them out fast enough.

“I don’t,” Reuben replies bluntly. “I don’t exactly make a secret of it either.”

“And you don’t like the way he, uh, runs the place, either,” she continues.

He smiles. “Not one bit.”

“So what’s the meeting for?” she asks. “Because I’m guessing it’s not about how to become better mentors.”

“Well guessed,” he nods. “Look, what we’re about to say… some of you won’t like it. Some of you will want to leave. Some of you might think we’re stark raving bonkers. And maybe we are. But all I ask is you hear us out. Then you can leave. Sound reasonable?”

Heads nod; faint murmurs of ‘yes’ can be heard. Reuben smiles, sits down and nods at Casey. She gets up, clearing her throat, searching her brain for the speech she’s all but learnt by heart.

“You’re Grade 3s. We all are. And that single number is the bane of our existence. We’re just not pretty enough or popular enough or normal enough. We’re the outcasts. The losers. The very bottom of the food chain. And why? Because Tyler says so. He treats us like shit. He makes our lives miserable. He takes advantage of people’s dislike of us to hold humiliation shows to line his own pockets. He charges us obscene amounts of money to buy the same stuff as everyone else. It’s not fair. I’m sure you’ve all thought that at some point, but you’ve been too scared to say it aloud because of what might happen to you. Am I right?”

They’re muttering, shifting uncomfortably in their seats. Casey’s speech has riled a few people, shocked most of them.

“I’m living proof of what happens to you if you have an opinion when it comes to Tyler’s regime,” she continues, undeterred. “I’ve seen both sides of it and trust me, it’s no prettier at the top end. We’re all pawns in Tyler’s game of chance, and he’s free to do whatever he likes with us. Tell me you like the way things are. Look me in the eye, all of you, and tell me you wouldn’t give anything for things to be different.”

“But there’s nothing we can do,” the boy named Gurpreet pipes up. “Tyler’s too powerful. He’s got the whole bloody school on his side.”

“Exactly,” Casey says, shaking her head. “If people just stopped listening to him, did what they liked and not what he wanted, then where would he be? If everyone brought in their own lunch instead of buying from the tuck shop, what could he do? If everyone, every single person, boycotted the humiliation shows, what could he actually do to us? Our strength is our numbers. He’s one person. There are one and half thousand other people in this school. If we all rallied together against him, he wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“But that isn’t going to happen, is it?” Maya says softly. “The Grade 1s, even the Grade 2s… it’s okay for them. They’re not going to want to change things. They’re happy the way things are.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” Casey replies firmly. “Trust me. There are plenty of Grade 1s who despise Tyler and everything he is. Everything he stands for. We just need people to stand together. We need unity. Tyler’s divided us, and that’s why he’s so powerful. By splitting us into separate groups, he’s turned us against each other, made us hate each other and blame each other for the way things are. But he’s the problem. And if we make people see that, if we make people see him for what he truly is, there won’t be a soul in this school willing to stand by him any more.”

She swallows hard, and glances quickly at Reuben. He flashes her a supportive smile, and mouths a ‘well done’. She smiles and turns back to them, her confidence renewed.

“So what are you proposing we do, exactly?” Harris asks, frowning.

“Nothing,” she replies. “Nothing whatsoever. Except talk. Tyler’s got us scared of saying what we think. He’s restricted our freedom of speech, our freedom of thought, even. Don’t let him. Say what you want. Talk. Think. Because once you let someone take those basic rights away from you, there’s nothing they can’t do to you.”

She sits down, exhausted, and Reuben rubs her shoulder comfortingly.

“You were amazing,” he whispers, grinning at her.

“Thanks,” she whispers back, blushing. “Your turn.”

“I think Casey put it pretty well,” he says, smiling. “But I have a few things to add. We’re not going to force you to take part in this. If you don’t want in, leave now. I’m not going to lie to you. Things are going to get serious. People could get hurt. But things aren’t going to change any other way. So if you don’t want to be a part of this, leave now.”

No one gets up. Reuben can’t keep himself from smiling.

“Good. What I want you to do now is spread the word. Tell anyone who’ll listen exactly what you think about Tyler. But be sensible. Don’t go up to the man himself and start having it out with him. Start small. And if he does find out, if he does threaten you, come to us. It’s our problem. If he wants to hurt one of you, we have to know. We got you into this, we’ll get you out of it.”

People are nodding, murmuring amongst themselves. This doesn’t sound too bad, they’re thinking. We might actually be able to do it.

“Oh and, one more thing,” he announces. “We’re having a meeting tomorrow, and it’s open to everyone. Bring anyone you want. Except Tyler, obviously.” They laugh at that, though it’s not particularly funny. “Pick up a card on the way out. And don’t forget: talk. Think. Don’t let him take your free will away from you. Oh, and, have a great half term.”

As if a switch has been flipped, people start getting up, gathering their stuff. Within seconds, the room has been emptied. Letting out a breath through her teeth, Casey sags back on the chair.

“That went quite well,” Reuben comments. He glances at her. “What do you think, Case?”

Her lips curve upwards hesitantly. “I think this might actually work.”

They share something more than a smile in those few solitary seconds, staring at each other. Then the bell rings, rupturing the moment, and they get up to leave.