Have We Gone Too Far?

Maths isn't what you’d call a fun lesson and it’s even worse when you have a boring teacher like Mr. Markham. He hates me, I'm sure of it. In class he just sits there while we supposedly work out of the text books, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Unfortunately, he’s really strict with seating plans though, which makes it a lot harder to have a good conversation with someone, but not impossible. The thing that makes it impossible is that he very kindly put me next to Liza, you know, the one who’s having this party tonight. She’s not a bad person or anything but she annoys the hell out of me. For starters, she never shuts up and then there’s the fact that she has a massive creepy crush on me.

Right now she’s blabbering on about how amazing her party’s going to be and how happy she is that I'm coming. I'm trying to act interested but to be honest I’d rather listen to Mr. Markham.

After a good two minutes of trying to work out what he was on about I gave up and got my phone out, he’s not very likely to notice. I groaned when I remembered the battery died earlier today.

“What’s up?” Liza asked me.

“Battery’s dead,” I mumbled.

I sat quietly for a bit and just stared into space, but then I heard someone behind mention my name.

“Mr. Baker was yelling at him and he went bright red; I thought he was going to pee himself!”A group of male voices said then started laughing quietly.

They know nothing. I was red before Mr. Baker started talking to me and come on, ‘pee myself’ how immature.

“Apparently he thinks he’s too good to even change with everyone else anymore.”

“I know. He’s such a spoiled brat.”

So now people think I'm spoiled, that’s rich. It’s not like I even have anyone to spoil me. It’s not like I even have someone who cares about me! I tried to block out their voices but I couldn’t.

“It was so funny in PE, little Sam kept tackling him.”

Why won’t they just shut up? I ran my hand through my light blond hair a few times, then sighed when I realized it was still a bit wet from the awful shower I had earlier.

“Zachery! For the final time, what’s the answer?”Mr. Markham shouted at me. A few people sniggered but I didn’t get why, it’s no secret that I'm bottom of the class and have a very short attention span.

“I don’t know!” I shouted as I stood up and put my bag over my shoulders.

“Where are you going, Zachery?” he shouted as I headed towards the door.

“Away from this hell hole!” I shouted back at him.

That felt good, really good. I felt like I was letting off loads of steam right now, but I wasn't calm enough to go back in and face the sniggering idiots I call classmates. The whispering and gossiping is driving me crazy, if I stayed in there I seriously would have reached my breaking point.

I walked over to the bike sheds and sat down leaning against the wall. I pulled out a death stick as my mum likes to call it, lit it and started puffing away. It was soothing, but right now I needed a lot more than that.

I knew I had some beer in my bag. Well, quite a lot of beer actually. I thought about leaving it there but it was far too tempting. Before I knew it I’d pulled out one of the cans that I had stashed. I knew I’d end up regretting this but right now I am so desperate.

I opened the can and let the liquid drip down my throat, it felt so good. I savoured the taste even though I wasn't too sure how long I’d have before someone catches me. I did this over and over until I’d gone through most of the cans.

I then stopped and thought for a moment. I didn’t understand why everyone had to talk crap about me, what have I ever done to them? They all think I can take all of the rubbish that goes round about me, but I can’t. It’s driving me crazy! And then I have to go home to my mum and dad. I’ll walk in then mum always says something like: ‘do enough to keep him quiet all night’ and then my dad starts attacking me. And he doesn’t go easy because I'm his son, either. He dragged me down the stairs a few weeks ago, after that my ribs were killing me. I was pretty bruised but nothing was broken, at the time I thought they were but it doesn’t hurt anymore so they mustn’t have been.

I realized I had tears dripping down my face, out from my burning eyes. Why am I so weak all of a sudden? I looked down at my hands and saw they were shaking, and then suddenly images of my dad’s fist powerfully smashing against my face over and over again started flashing in front of my eyes. I wanted to scream, I needed to scream, but I couldn’t.

I started wiping my damp face, trying to make the images go away, but they wouldn’t. The tears were streaming down my face now and I was so scared. I tried pinching myself to snap out of it but that didn’t help either. All I could see was his fist hitting me over and over again.

I lifted my knees up and wrapped my arms around them, then closed my eyes tightly. Everything went dark and I started crying even harder than I was doing before. When I re-opened my eyes the images were gone and I started to feel safe again, even though I was struggling to turn the shaking and the crying off still.

I looked up and noticed someone was coming.

“Crap,” I thought out loud.

I quickly stuffed the cans into my bag and tried to wipe the tears from my face, I didn’t need anyone’s sympathy and I couldn’t deal with anyone trying to find out what’s going on.

I sighed with relief when I saw it was Mr. Baker. I didn’t want him to see me like this but I had to admit I’d rather it be him than anyone else.

“What’s happened?” he asked as he knelt down in front of me and tried to lock eye contact.

“Nothing,” I sniffed.

“It doesn’t look like nothing,” he observed. “You stink of beer. Does that have anything to do with this?” he asked concernedly.

I nodded weakly at him.

“How much have you had?” he asked me.

I shrugged my shoulders. I know it wasn't too much, I’d feel a lot worse than I do now if it was.

“A couple of cans,” I said quietly, worried about how he’d react.

“Right, well I’ll take you to my office so you have a chance to sober up. Then I want you to tell me what’s been going on, and then I’ll probably end up shouting at you for how stupid you’ve been, okay?”

I nodded at him. As I stood up I felt a bit wobbly and ended up throwing up on the grass. Mr. Baker will probably blame that on the drink but I think it’s more because of the beating my dad was mentally giving me before.

Sir put my arm around his shoulders for support as he helped me walk into his office. I was glad everyone else was still in lessons, if anyone else had to see me like this, I’d be too ashamed to even turn up again.

I looked up at Mr. Baker.

“You have a pretty beard,” I said, well the drink said it actually, as I stroked his big bald head.

I felt him push my hand away from his head but I don’t think he said anything else to me.

“Did you know that my fish has a beard just like yours?”

I had no idea where any of this was coming from. I don’t even have a fish!

“It looks better on you, though,” I slurred.

“You definitely need time to sober up,” he mumbled.

“I met a drugged up unicorn once, she needed time to sober up,” I ended up slurring the last few words together. “I called her Bill because I like apples.”

What the hell am I saying? Bill? Apples? Bloody unicorns?

Mr. Baker was looking at me like I was a mad man, which I suppose I am right now. I started thinking that a might have had more than a couple of cans. I never act this bad when I’m drunk, never!

***

I woke up and looked at the clock on the wall. Four o’clock. I should be home by now. I tried to sit up but my head was killing me, so I decided to stay where I was.

I looked around the dark room and realized I was in Mr. Baker’s office. I’ve only been in here a few times before but I doubted any other teacher would have world cup posters and sports achievements hung up all over their walls.

I could hear a lot of shouting coming from the changing room. There must be an after school club on or something.

“Can I have some quiet please!” I heard Mr. Baker shout, making the room go silent.

I guessed it was only the lower school people here because there’s no way that would have worked with my year group.

I noticed the door handle move and then light poured through into the room, making me groan and rub my squinting eyes to try and adjust to the light. Mr. Baker quickly shut the door and knelt down so he was near me.

“I'm sorry about the noise,” he whispered.

“Thanks for shutting them up,” I mumbled. Who knew it could hurt so much to speak?

“How are you feeling?” he asked gently.

“My head’s killing me,” I groaned. I then noticed the blanket that was on top of me. “Thanks for this, Sir.”

“No problem,” he sighed then got up and took something out of one of his draws. “Take this.” I looked at the pills he was holding oddly. “They’re only pain killers. They’ll ease your headache,” he explained.

I took them off him and swallowed them down. I felt absolutely awful. I tried sitting up again but I fell back down pretty much as soon as I tried.

“I’m sorry,” I told him, expecting him to hate me like everyone else after this.

“You should be,” he whispered. “You’re parents and I have decided not to take this any further than them, so you don’t need to worry about expulsion or anything like that.”

My eyes widened. He’s told my mum and dad. They’re going to kill me. I tried to get up again, I needed to get home!

“Try and sleep some more, Zack, you’ll feel a lot better.”

How can I feel better knowing that my mum and dad know about this? They’re going to kill me. The visions of my dad when he gets angry returned. I’m petrified right now and the only advice I have is to get some rest. This can’t be happening.