Smile For Him

The further Harry walked, the bigger the houses became, the neater their gardens were and the more pretentious they began to look. An audible sigh escaped from Harry’s mouth as he stopped outside the iron black gates he was so use to seeing. Peeking up through his curly hair he could see his house in all its fine glory. Fantastical brickwork, with a neat garden of red roses either side of the grey stone path leading to his house. From the prettiness of the house you would never expect such a hideous family to live inside, who were so cold and cruel. His shoulders slumped as he entered the four digit code to allow the iron gates to open, and stepped back as they began to move. A single creak was heard as they smoothly parted.

"Welcome home, Mr. Styles.” His gardener, Greg spoke as Harry walked past him. “Afternoon, Greg.” Harry replied in a tired manner. He was sick of people calling him ‘Mr. Styles.’ he wasn’t an adult yet, nor was he that superior to allow people to call him that. He was simply Harry. Although, he’d given up trying to tell the staff this, they never listened. Harry continued the short distance to his front door, where he went to reach his hand out open it, but the door swung inwards before him. “Welcome back, Mr. Styles. I hope your day went well.” Tobias said, holding the door open for the seventeen year old to walk inside. “I can use to door handle perfectly well, Tobias, you don’t need to open it for me.” Harry muttered as he removed his blazer. He went to place it on a nearby armchair, but a maid scurried by and snatched it away, running up the stairs to no doubt hang it in his wardrobe.

“How was your day then, Mr. Styles?” Tobias asked, following Harry into the kitchen with his white gloved hands behind his back in a professional manner. “It was fine.” Harry lied. He always lied. Why would he tell Tobias of his problems? Tobias probably had more important things to do, such as deliver the Master of the house his tea and biscuits, or pick up after his messy older sister. Harry nodded at the large and flustered chef who was already preparing tonight’s dinner before making his way to a cupboard. “I would advise you not to take the chocolate cookies; they’re your fathers favourite.” Tobias said with a sophisticated yet monotonous voice. Harry snorted, “He’s not my father.” Before deliberately taking one chocolate cookie, and walking away.

Harry ran up the large staircase, his bag clunking against his thigh. He made it past his step-dads office without being seen, and opened his bedroom door with such enthusiasm that he stumbled into the room. Quickly he shut the wooden door behind him and slumped against it, sighing at the familiar sight. His room was neat. Surprisingly neat for a boy of his age. His double bed was made to perfection, his white pillows plumped up to make them look inviting. On one wall sat his bookshelf where many tattered and dog-eared books were stuffed tightly into the shelves. Most he had not even read, but were simply books he’d found in the library downstairs which had held his interest. His widescreen television sat proudly on his wall, with a multitude of DVDs neatly lined up below it. Not that he tended to watch them much. In the corner sat his desk with several academic books piled up with various bits of paper littering it. It was here where Harry dumped his school bag, allowing a pen from the desk to roll off and drop to the floor. He removed his brown shoes and placed them side by side before padding his way towards his window. His window was most probably his favourite thing about his bedroom, if not even the whole house. It over-looked his large garden, with the pools water rippling in the wind, as well as the tennis court just to the side.

But, behind his garden sat an open field, with a forest just visible past it which was what was really of Harry’s interest. In this field sat an abandoned barn, its red paint worn out and faded away. Harry never had the guts to go there, although one day he planned to. On Friday nights he sits on his window seat, wrapped in a blanket to just watch the world go by. Sometimes he could see bonfires from the barn, meaning his classmates were probably throwing some form of party there, sipping gin and port which they’d stolen from their parent’s cabinet. While other times, there was rave music playing so loud Harry could feel the bass thump in his chest. Those were the other teenagers. The ones not rich enough to go to the public school, and instead had to go to the comprehensive which was down the hill, and on the other side of town. Harry was intrigued by them. To Harry they were almost like wild animals. Where guys with shaved heads and tracksuit bottoms would control the music to which girls in short skirts would dance provocatively while drinking WKD straight from the bottle. The others at school disliked these people a lot. They called them scum, and worthless. Although Harry couldn’t really see what was so bad about them. It was not their fault they were not born into a rich family. Harry wanted to meet them. He wanted to see how they lived, although he never dared venture that far into town. As soon as he saw signs of graffiti he would turn around and walk in the opposite direction.

On his window seat was where Harry sat now, his chin resting on his knees watching the trees dance in the wind. He thought he should probably do some homework, but he wasn’t in the mood for maths if he was quite honest. Checking the time he saw it was only ten past four. He ran a hand through his curls and tilted his head back, letting it rest on the wall behind him. “I am a loser.” Harry muttered to himself, his eyes closed, “I am a complete loser.” He opened his eyes and yawned, turning his face back to the window where his eyes widened in interest. In the field he could see four people walking through the ankle high grass. Four boys to be exact. He couldn’t really see their faces, but he could tell that they were laughing, one pushing the other so he fell into the grass. Another pointing at the barn to which one nodded in agreement. They didn’t go to his school, he was sure of that, although to be honest they didn’t look young enough to be at school. Perhaps nineteen or twenty. There was one boy who caught Harry’s eye, however. His hands rammed firmly in his coat pocket, walking a few paces behind the others with his head down. He didn’t need to see his face to tell he was deep in thought, as Harry often walked in the same way. Head down, not paying attention to anything around him. His friends must have said something to him, because he looked up and took his hands out of his pockets. A blonde boy made a motion with his hand as if to say, ‘hurry up!’, causing the boy to run up to them as they continued to walk through the field. Harry watched them the whole while, fixated on their behaviour and their happiness. He watched them until they had disappeared into the woods, and carried on watching for a while later in case they appeared again, but by then it was starting to get dark, 6:00p.m, by his watch.

His head whipped around as someone knocked on the door. “Mr. Styles? Dinner is ready.” Tobias said, as he opened the door. He took in Harry’s position on the window seat and cracked a genuinely warm smile that lit his eyes, like a Granddad looking at his Grandson. “How did I guess you would be up there?” he said in a voice that made Harry confused. It was humour and happiness. He rarely heard the butler talk in such a human way. Harry blinked in confusion, sliding off of the window seat and following his butler into the hallway. “You don’t tell Mum I sit there, do you?” Harry asked, for some reason concerned about his mother’s reaction. “Of course not, Mr. Styles.” Tobias said from in front of him, meaning Harry couldn’t see the butlers smile.

Harry stopped just before the dining room. He raked a hand through his hair and tucked his white school shirt in. He glanced at Tobias worriedly before entering the room. The other three were already at the table. His Mother and Step-Father each at one end of the long table, while his sister sat in the middle. Harry walked with his head low to sit opposite his sister, fully aware of Robin’s eyes on him. Once he’d sat down the room remained in silence. Despite the warmth of the open fire, the room felt cold. “How was your day, Harry?” Anne asked, not seeming entirely bothered by his answer, but at least making an effort. “It was fine.” Harry lied again, keeping his eyes on the silver cutlery in front of him. Robin sniffed as he looked at Harry, as if he was disgusted at his very presence. It was quiet for another moment before Harry’s sister, Gemma spoke, “I got an A* on my Government and Politics essay.” Her voice was full of pride as her face smirked, looked at Harry straight in the eye. Anne beamed, “Well done, Gemma! That’s fantastic. Isn’t that fantastic, Robin?”

“Yes, Gemma. You’re working hard. Unlike your brother.” Harry’s face flushed as the family looked at him. Robin made no attempt to hide his dislike for him. “I do try hard-” Harry began in a quiet voice before jumping as Robin slammed his fist on the table, making the knives and forks jump out of position. “You’re not trying hard enough!” he bellowed, teeth gritted as Harry shrunk back in his seat, swallowing down the lump in his throat. He looked up through his eyelashes at his mum to see if she was going to offer him support. Their eyes connected for a split second before Anne looked away guiltily. The room fell back into silence, Gemma still with a smug look on her face. Moments later the silence was broken as Tobias and their maid, Chelsea came bustling through the door, “Dinner is served!”

Harry poked at his mashed potato as his family gossiped about next door, and spoke about political matters which didn’t make any sense to him. He watched as Robins tie dangled dangerously near his gravy as he complained about the Labour Party. Harry stabbed a carrot and chewed it with disinterested, waiting until it was complete mush in his mouth. Looking at his sister’s plate he saw she only had a few forkfuls left, in comparison to his half eaten meal. “Harry, are you ill?” his mother asked, noticing his plate. Harry panicked, scooping a great deal of potato onto his fork and shoving it in his mouth, “No.” He said through his mouthful. “He better not be, he’s skinny enough as it is. He’s an embarrassment. The Anderson’s boy goes to the gym five times a week! And what does your boy do, Anne? Nothing.” Harry swallowed his mash potato, ignoring Robin’s words. He heard them all too many times before. He was always compared to the other kids. He knew Robin would much rather have another child than him. Robin most probably would prefer to have the kid that ate dirt, rather than him, because at least that kid got good results in biology.

Harry managed to eat a few more big mouthfuls before putting down his cutlery. He stared at the peas swimming in gravy until Chelsea picked it up and took it back to the kitchen. “Ungrateful bastard.” He heard Robin mutter under his breath. Once the table was clear Harry made a move to get up. “No.” Robin instructed, “You will sit back down and join us for dessert.” Harry hovered a moment longer before sitting back down. Under the table his sister kicked his shin, making him wince and grunt quietly. A chocolate cake was placed in front of him, the icing glistening under the lights. Harry almost grimaced at the food, but managed to stop himself once he realised Robin was still looking at him. He picked up his spoon and inspected the pudding, gently slicing off a small portion and placing it in his mouth, disliking the sickly sweet treat. “Oh, and Harry,” Robin began, taking a large chunk out of his own cake, “I hope you haven’t forgotten about the dinner party tomorrow night at Bert Brooks house.” Harry’s heart sunk. How could he have forgotten? He’d been dreading it for months. A posh dinner of caviar and bowties, with a bartender making cocktails with too much alcohol. Where waiters interrupted you to offer you another mini tartlet. And, of course, the fact that all of his classmates would be there, as well as their even more annoying parents. “Shit.” Harry cursed to himself.