The Reluctant Friend

Printer-friendly version

The Reluctant Friend.

By Angharad.

“How was school?” Mary Phillips asked her thirteen year old daughter.

“S’okay, I guess.”

“No one said anything?”

“Not yet, haven’t worked it out yet, give ’em time.”

“Meet anyone interesting?”

“They were all a bit curious, didn’t tell ’em anythin’.”

“Find out who you can trust first, eh?”

“If it’s anything like last time, I don’t think I’ll trust anyone ever again.”

Mary smiled at her daughter but she understood, Fern was old enough to work out who was and wasn’t trustworthy with the family secrets, not something you can do after first meeting.

They had dinner and during it, Fern remarked that the class loser appeared to be a boy who most of the rest of the class seemed to laugh at. He looked a bit of a geek with glasses and longer hair than most of the boys, who spent much of the time playing with his smart phone. No one spoke to him except in a derisory way and that annoyed Fern, but it didn’t seem to affect the boy whose name was Paul Rogers, she discovered that much. Judging by the names the boys called him, the skinny geek was presumed to be gay.

The following week, they ended up sitting together for an art lesson. It was the first time Fern had actually tried to speak to him. They had to do a still life object which was a vase of flowers. Drawing or painting were not Fern’s forte and she glanced at Paul’s effort and was astonished, in minutes he’d sketched the vase and its contents.

Fern gasped, “How d’ya do that so quickly?”

Paul shrugged. He was already drawing the other people in the class around the edge of his still life.

“Could you show me—how to do it, I mean?”

He shrugged again.

“Please.”

“If they see you talking to me, you’ll be contaminated.”

“To be able to draw like that, it would be worth it.”

“You haven’t seen them in action yet.”

“What d’you mean?”

“When they get tired of slagging me off they get physical.”

“What—they hit you?”

“This is the third pair of glasses I’ve had this year.”

“Doesn’t the school have a policy on bullying?”

“In theory.”

“Get your dad to threaten them with a law suit.”

“That costs money, besides my dad left us when I was a baby.”

Fern was about to say, ‘Well get your mum to...’ when she realised money was probably an issue for the young man’s family. Instead she said, “I won’t let them.”

“I don’t see how you’ll be able to stop them, no one has so far.”

Fern was as good as her word and standing before two boys who were going to hit Paul, she dared them to hit her first because she wasn’t moving. They eventually tired of the stand-off and left. Paul and she were becoming friends but the rest of the class were now treating her to pariah status as well, but she was firm in her decision to stand by him, though she didn’t know if he was grateful or not.

“I’ve kept my part of the bargain, now it’s time for you to keep yours,” she said to him at the end of an English lesson. It was her strong subject along with History and Geography.

“What bargain?”

“To teach me to draw like you do.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t, okay.” He got a bit grumpy and walked away. She didn’t speak to him for the rest of the day, unsure of who was avoiding who but the next morning he arrived with his glasses stuck together with tape and bruising on his face.

“What happened?” she asked him.

“I fell, all right?”

“Helped by someone’s fist, no doubt.”

“What’s it to you? Who said you had to be my defender—I don’t need it so, just go away, before they get you too.” The last part was almost a whisper.

“What d’you mean?”

“Nothing.”

“Okay, who hit you?”

“Never mind, I wasn’t hurt.”

“I do mind, they can’t hit you just because they think you’re gay.”

“I’m not gay.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

He walked away and she was left on her own. Later that day she overheard two of the girls talking in the toilet about how Grainger Banks had beaten up Poofy Rogers last night because he wouldn’t pay the protection money. She stayed in the stall until she heard them leave.

“Did Grainger Banks hit you?”

“Why?”

“I heard some girls talking.”

“You know as much as I do then.”

“They wanted you to pay them to leave you in peace.”

“It’s none of your business, so just leave it.”

“Yes it is, I don’t like my friends being bullied.”

“I don’t have any friends.”

His response hurt a little but she had some understanding of how he felt, or how she thought he felt with its implied issues of trust. She still felt drawn to his plight and she knew that Grainger Banks was in the year above them and quite a bit bigger than her or Paul. However, her strategy of full frontal attack was improvised when she almost bumped into Banks in the corridor.

“Did you beat up on Paul Rogers?” she asked him, looking up into his eyes quite a way above her own.

“What’s it to you?”

“He’s a friend of mine.”

Banks laughed in her face. “He don’t have no friends, let alone a girlfriend. He don’t do girls.”

“He does now.”

Banks laughed again. “Wastin’ your time there, girl.”

“He refused to pay you some money, I hear.”

“Butt out girly, it’s none of your business.”

“It is if I offer to pay what he owes.” Fern maintained eye contact with the larger boy despite feeling scared rigid.

“Okay.”

“How much?”

“Five quid a week.”

“That’s outrageous.”

“Protection is expensive—for seven, I’ll include you in it.”

“I don’t need protecting.”

Banks looked around and seeing no one in the corridor he pushed her against some lockers. “What if you’re wrong?” he asked holding her by the shoulder.

“What if you are?” she replied trying not to show he was hurting her.

“I’m never wrong about women.” He said smugly just before he hit the floor. Her knee made contact with his groin followed by the stiff fingered jab to his throat and the elbow to the side of his head.

Grabbing his hair she said quietly but with menace, “Ever come near me again and I’ll kill you,” she let his head fall with a thump on the floor before walking off rubbing her shoulder where he’d hurt her. Banks was nowhere to be seen the next morning but in assembly the headmaster declared, “The gang of thugs who left a boy badly beaten in the corridor would be found and prosecuted.” Fern nearly wet herself and was sure other girls noticed her blushing. She’d been taught a form of self defence after the last school where it was shown that surprise was one of the first components and nothing was ruled out as a target or a weapon. Banks was only the second person she’d ever hit, the first was another girl who bullied her mercilessly but stopped when Fern punched her square on the nose breaking the cartilage.

Mary gave her hell for using violence. “So why did you send me for training then?”

“The intention was to stop you getting into one, not starting them.”

“She won’t bother me again.”

“I know because we’re moving.”

“Not again—but I like this school.”

“The headmaster said you could finish the term.”

“Big deal.”

“He was going to exclude you.”

“She started it.”

“Not the way the school saw it.”

“They didn’t do anything when she hit me before, or called me names.”

“I thought I taught you better.”

“Yeah, well John taught me better still,” John was her self defence instructor—‘Make every blow count the first time, you might not get a second chance.’

“Bit o’luck about Banks, eh?” Paul mentioned in art.

“Who?” asked Fern trying to understand how he could make a few strokes with a pencil and it represented something but if she tried it, it just resembled a few strokes of a pencil.

“Banks, the bully—some kids duffed him up.”

“So? How d’you do that?”

“Well I’d like to thank them, that’s all. No you’re doing it all wrong, look have an idea in your head of what you’re trying to do, then just do it...”

“Gee thanks,” she answered in exasperation. “Mine still looks like a mess, yours is brilliant.”

He shrugged again, “I don’t know, it looks like a nice dog kennel.”

“Dog kennel, it’s supposed to be the cathedral.”

“Oh, my mistake...”

“You wanna come round to mine tomorrow, Mum’s doing a roast dinner and her partner’s away for a few days.”

“I dunno, I’m...”

“Go on, you can help me do my maths homework.”

“I dunno...”

“Go on, please...”

“Okay, just this once.”

“Great, I’ll tell Mum, you like roasties?”

“Uh—yeah, I like most things.”

“Great,” she beamed.

“Is this a good idea, Fern?”

“Paul is okay, he won’t tell anyone.”

“I hope not, the garden has cost a fortune to have done and I don’t want to have to move again.”

“He’ll be okay with it, I promise.”

“I hope so, just remember adolescent males can be very conservative and judgemental.”

“He’ll be okay.”

“You haven’t told him already have you?” Mary looked anxious.

“It’s okay, I promise.”

“Well all right then, he can come to dinner.”

“Geezuz, you don’t live here do you?” Paul stopped at the gate to the old rectory, a large Victorian pile not far from the Anglican church.

“C’mon, it’s not haunted an’ Mum’s expecting us.”

To his pleasant surprise Mary Phillips was both friendly and good looking only surpassed by her cooking and Paul ate his fill very quickly. Fern dragged him off to the study to do their homework, he glanced at a series of photos on the wall. “Where’s your dad?” he asked casually.

“God knows.”

“Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s okay, my dad was a sperm donor, okay.”

“Wow, I don’t think I ever met someone who told me that before. Don’t... nah, never mind.”

“Never mind what?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Yes it does, now what were you going to say?”

“Nothing.”

“You were going to say that’s how gay women have babies, weren’t you?”

He blushed furiously. “Uh...”

“It’s okay, Mum is gay her partner is Jane Dalrymple the novelist. Please son’t say anything, as soon as people find out I get bullied, we’ve moved three times in the last five years.”

“I won’t say anything, honest.”

up
405 users have voted.
If you liked this post, you can leave a comment and/or a kudos! Click the "Thumbs Up!" button above to leave a Kudos

Comments

Fern is cool

I've lost any respect for schools in the US too with the exception of certain elite schools where being 'geeky' was the norm and expected.

The rest is not worth what comes out my rear end.

It's been years for me

I got bullied a bit in School. I understand it is worse now.

Gwen

The Reluctant Friend

Excellent story. Enough words to complete the story without adding too much fluff. Only problem I see is that you don't take enough time to grace us with your skill as a writer. I know about Bike, but these one offs are in another category altogether. You are one of the best writers on this site and we appreciate your time that you donate to keep us entertained. Hope all is well with you.
Hugs
Francesca

- Formerly Turnabout Girl

Title...

Melanie Brown's picture

I have the words "The Reluctant" trademarked.

J/K

Melanie

The Reluctant

littlerocksilver's picture

I guess I'd better change the title of my story as well.

Portia

The Reluctant Astronaut

Daphne Xu's picture

The movie "The Reluctant Astronaut" probably came out before you were born, featuring Don Knotts as the astronaut with acrophobia.

And yes, she was born featuring Don Knotts as the astronaut with acrophobia. (Preempting grammar nazis.) :-P

-- Daphne Xu

-- Try saying freefloating three times rapidly.

Very Thought Provoking

littlerocksilver's picture

Excellent depiction of how prejudice directs our thoughts. I wish there were more Ferns out there. I wish I had been one. I had made assumptions about Fern that were completely wrong, I think.

Portia

More please

That was a nice story, I hope you are thinking of writing some more about Paul and Fern.

I think schools the world over are the same. Teachers all talk big about how they stand up to bullying and in truth never do anything to stop it and avoid becoming involved in dealing with it at all costs, just telling those being bullied to stand up for themselves and walking off.

As time went by I found most if NOT ALL the bully's at my school all got made prefects when the time came!!

Grainger Banks

joannebarbarella's picture

Had to pretend that he was beaten up by a gang rather than a single girl much smaller than himself. What a wuss! I think his bullying days are over.

As usual, Angharad, your vignettes are impeccable.

Bullying

Every day at school brought a physical assault, from boys and girls. Apparently I was a puff/a queer/gay etc. They weren't QUITE on the right track.

Most of us leak so badly till we learn to hide.

This strikes me

as an incomplete story. I also get a strong feeling Paul is a girl where it counts.

Nice Twist

Sadarsa's picture

LoL, I thought the big secret would be that Fern was actually a boy, so when she told him about her mom being gay and partnered with a famous author i was like... "What? that's it?"

~Your only Limitation is your Imagination~

The twist

I suspected there'd be an unexpected twist - I immediately discounted Fern as trans (too obvious), so my initial assumption was that mum was trans. Then when mum mentioned her partner, I thought she might be cis but lesbian instead, but the unexpected bit for me was that that wasn't so much the Secret That Dare Not Be Revealed, but rather than mum's partner was a famous novellist.


As the right side of the brain controls the left side of the body, then only left-handers are in their right mind!

An interesting little story....

D. Eden's picture

And some very interesting characters. I was lucky enough to only have a very brief brush with bullying in school when I was about twelve years old. As I had been taught to stand up for myself from an early age, and as I had put up with much worse physically at home, it was soon a non-issue. I was left alone for the rest of my time in school.

I generally fell somewhere between the "jocks" and the "brains", plus I had the added issue of having a parent who was on the school board. I was always within the top ten students in a school of 1300, which earned me the tag of being a "brain" - even though I was never one of those students who spent an inordinate amount of time studying. Yes, I was a loner who spent a lot of time sitting in my room reading, but as for school work things just seemed to come easy for me. They just made sense the first time I heard them, and I remembered virtually everything.

Add into that the fact I was a three sport varsity athlete, and even though I never really associated with my team mates off the field, I still fell into the "jock" classification. The first time someone called me a jock I nearly fell over laughing. I was soooo not a part of that group. I just happened to have some talent, and a lot of drive probably from repressing my true self and my feelings.

It always astonished me when someone included me in things at school. I had acquaintances, but no one I would call close, or a friend. My first real friends were my team in the service. They were the first people who really cared about me; they taught me the meaning of friendship and love. And unfortunately, they taught me the feeling of loss too.

I really enjoyed this, and it has possibilities. And thoughts toward continuing it?

Dallas

D. Eden

Dum Vivimus, Vivamus

Different but very nice

Hi Angharad,

I really loved this short story. It's different and fun and I really like the twist at the end. You really wrote Fern well, being happy with her two moms. For her it's a non issue it seems, just like for some children it is reality.
I really hope things like having two moms or two dads becomes normality, not even worth mentioning anymore.

--
>> There is not one single truth out there. <<

A lovely short story

Hello Angharad.

This was another lovely vignette. I am amazed you find time to sleep these days.

I am wondering if it was a turkey baster or something more clinical. Ah well.

Love to all

Anne G.

Big Bad Bully

The big guys are the ones who cry the most and the loudest . Good for Fern

Left me wanting more

I liked the story, but it felt kind of unfinished. It felt more like the first chapter of a longer story.

somehow

Maddy Bell's picture

i missed this when it came out - thoroughly enjoyed it


image7.1.jpg    

Madeline Anafrid Bell

Random Solo strikes again!

Emma Anne Tate's picture

I really enjoyed this vignette, Angharad. I will confess, as a newcomer to the site, your opus intimidates me — I don’t know how I can catch up with a story that’s been going on for fifteen years! But you write beautifully. Thank you!

Emma