I Liked it Better When They Were Young

Tre’s P.O.V

I stood there, hands in my pockets, as my fate was sealed. Billie walked up to me shyly, not in keeping with his confident stride. Like he had some sand or a small stone in his New Rocks.

“Right that settles it, then!” Mrs Mowatt was really enjoying torturing him. Although I can’t say I wouldn’t have been the same if I was in her shoes. “Billie, you can go with Frank.”

“His name’s not Frank…” Billie muttered, as she went away to check everyone had a partner they didn’t want to be with.

“Oh, well everyone, that is, all the teachers, they know me as Frank Edwin Wright III.” I explained. Billie looked at me, irritated in some way by this harmless statement.

“I wasn’t talking to you.” He snapped. “In fact, for the duration of this trip, just don’t talk to me…” I sighed. Even when I tried my best, I still couldn’t get on with him. I don’t know why I bothered, I had never liked him.

”Works for me...” I said, bitterly. We stood in a stony silence and listened to Mrs Mowatt, who was giving a rousing speech to the class.

”Right everyone; here’s what we’re going to do!” She said, giddy with excitement. It was a gold day for her. It wasn’t often that she caught out Billie. He was usually too wily for the likes of her. But today she had succeeded. She glanced over at him, eyes flashing with pride. Billie pursed his lips together, sucking in air through his nose.

“In your pairs, have a good browse around the gallery until you find a piece of artwork you both like. I would then like you to write a short essay, saying who it’s by, when it was painted or sculpted, why you chose it, and why you liked it. Communication and teamwork is vital.”

Billie and I glanced over at each other, as we caught a sickening glimpse into the rest of the field trip. The words echoed through our heads; “Communication and teamwork is vital.”

“Right, shall we all crack on? You all have till three fifteen.”

I looked up at the ornate wooden clock, given pride of place on the wall. One hour. One hour, plus fifteen minutes. We had an hour and fifteen minutes to find a piece of art we both agreed on. I sighed deeply. Mrs Mowatt was right about one thing. We had better get started.

“Right Billie, I know you don’t want to be paired with me, and, to be honest, the feeling’s mutual, but there’s nothing we can do about it, so I say we start at the bottom of the gallery and work our way up. There’s bound to be something we both like here, and I’ll do the writing for our piece. Billie? Billie?”
I realized I was talking to myself. Billie was sitting in one of the spongy looking chairs, pale as a ghost, head in his hands.

“How did this happen to me how did this happen to me?” He moaned self pityingly. I rolled my eyes and walked up to him, kneeling by his side. “What did I do to deserve this?” He glanced down at me. “Are you about to propose to me? Because I think we both know what the answer would be…”

“Oh would you get a grip!” I snapped, pulling him to his feet. “We have an hour and ten minutes now, thanks to your griping! Now come on!” Billie stopped moaning and relaxed his body, allowing me to drag him down to the ground floor.

The ground floor was all photography, beautiful photography. Some were of nature. Some were of people. Some were of places and some of objects. Billie and I instantly separated unconsciously, as two very different pieces caught our eyes. Mine was by Andy Goldsworthy. It was of a small pool in a fresh water steam, with sandstone inside it. The stone was being worn away by the gentle water, which made it look like it was bleeding. I thought Billie might have liked it, a bleeding stone. Quite a strong visual. But he hadn’t even given it a glance. He was looking at a copy of an old James Dean photo, where he was walking down a side street in New York.

“Boulevard of Broken Dreams…” Billie murmured as he studied it. He reached out, ready to touch the glossy surface.

”Don’t!” I yelled. Some people turned around and stared, including Billie himself, who was one inch away from touching the photo.

“What?” He asked innocently. I rolled my eyes and jabbed at the sign, which said, “Please do not touch any of the photographs.” Billie looked a little sheepish, even perhaps a little sorry.

“I didn’t see that.” He muttered, his pale skin going a little pink.

“I know you didn’t.” I sighed, not at all surprised like he seemed to be. “Come and look at this.” I dragged him over to the photograph. Billie gave it a little scoff.

“Great. We’re presenting a puddle.” He said, rolling his green eyes. I grinded my teeth,

“It’s not a puddle; it’s art and nature rolled into one.” I heard myself say the words all over again and realized how gay they sounded. Why could I never be cool? I didn’t deserve a name like Tre Cool. I wasn’t cool and I never had been. But I wasn’t going to be Frank Edwin Wright III either. I was nobody.

Billie sneered at me.

“It’s art and nature rolled into one?” He repeated, putting a cruel spin on the words, mimicking my voice. It was over acted but the spirit was spot on. I felt myself boiling over with hatred and embarrassment.

“Fuck off…” I whispered.

“You fuck off!” Billie said back, much louder than me. A couple of our class turned around. Most had gotten used to Billie’s swearing but for a couple, it still came as a shock. Billie gave them a cheery wave, and then turned back to me. I shook my head at him.

“Why don’t you care?” I asked. Billie frowned and folded his arms.

“What do you mean?”

“Why don’t you care... what people think of you?” Billie shrugged.

“I do care what people think of me…. Just not them. They’re nothing on me. And I’m sure they feel exactly the same way.” He glanced around the gallery at each individual student. Not one of them was left unturned.
“You think I don’t know what they all say about me, what they all think of me?” His eyes traveled back to me. “What you think you me?” I stared at the ground, unable to meet his gaze. Billie smiled to himself, looking back at them all.
“Look at them. They love it. Everyone loves a good scandal when it comes along. They love seeing me be put in my place. Even if it’s by someone they detest. All I am to all of them is the school rebel. And that’s all I’ll ever be.”

I folded my arms. Billie had his insecurities too. He hid them well, under leather jackets and eyeliner, and a voice with a sarcastic edge. But he was also paranoid. Maybe he was just as paranoid as me…

Billie shook his hair out of his eyes and sighed deeply.
“I know what I am. I know my weaknesses and I know my strengths. I know why I do things and I don’t need to be told otherwise by strangers who judge me by my clothes, my opinions or my actions. So fuck them. Fuck them all.” He adjusted a badge on the sleeve of his jacket and started to walk away. But he wasn’t getting the last word again. Not this time. I scoffed at him.
“You think that rousing load of crap will make me like you more? Make me feel sorry for you, or look up to you? You’re wrong. I know exactly who you are, and I knew it long before you told me. I have my reasons for disliking people like you.” I must have rubbed him up the wrong way there, as he came crashing back to me in his New Rocks.

“People like me?” He snarled, “What do you mean people like me?” I sighed,
“It doesn’t matter…”

“It matters to me! And do you really think I’d make up that big a load of crap just to get you on board? I don’t need anything from you!”

“I don’t need anything from you either!” I spat, starting to lose my rag, “I see right through you…”

“You see right through me? You barely know me! It’s how I feel, Tre. I have my problems too, and they go beyond high school and all the crap that goes with it. I don’t expect you to think I’m any different from the punks that always bully the shit out of you. I know I’m not like that. I know what it’s like to be an outsider, although you may not believe it…”

”I certainly don’t believe it!” I snapped, “You’re basically a popular outsider. You have your circle of tattooed, drug dealing friends, so stay out of mine…”

“You don’t have a circle, you have Soph!”

“Right everyone, that’s half your time gone, you should all have chosen a piece by now and be using this time to write your essay, as you’ll all be going through them with Mr Waltham tomorrow morning in your double period of Art.”

I heard Mrs Mowatt speaking but I didn’t look up. Billie and I continued to stare at each other, neither one of us prepared to back down. I didn’t know what to say to his last comment. What do you say to the truth when it comes up behind you and slaps you across the face?

Mrs Mowatt obviously sensed the tension, which she should have. After all, it was the reason she had paired us together in the first place.

“Now, now, now, what’s all this about?” She purred, plodding over to us.”

“Nothing.” Billie and I said together, so much in unison that she should have been suspicious and persisted. But she didn’t. She nodded slightly and waddled away. Billie watched her go and then shrugged.

“Look, it’ll take us two minutes to write this. We’re both bright. And we both know how to kiss ass when we want to. So let’s take time out for a while and meet back here when we’re done.”

“Ok, fine.” I agreed, “Sounds like the best idea when we’re both like this.” Billie nodded.

“I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah. See you later.” Billie gave me a small smile and walked up the stairs to the first floor. I saw him make a beeline for Mike. I sighed and decided to stay on the ground floor. I went over to the James Dean photograph that Billie had been looking at earlier. It actually wasn’t that bad.