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Walking to school with my nerd friends the next morning helped to ease my conscience at having neglected them.
“More cross-country?” asked Dennis, indicating my kit bag.
“Yes. There’s a race on Sunday. Coach Budd has already picked the team so tonight’s for venue details and tactics.”
“Cool,” said Dennis. “I hope you win for once.”
“Fat chance,” I replied.
Everyone laughed.
“How’s the Kevin Randell index of weirdness today?” asked Michael.
I raised an arm above my head and waved it from side to side to indicate a flickering dial. “Maria D’Angelou came back to my place yesterday and we helped each other with homework. I might even get a decent grade for an English essay for once.” I hadn’t told them about Daisy and I wasn’t going to.
“I’m thinking of becoming gay,” said Dimitri. “You’ve got girls swarming round you.”
“What, Maria?”
“And Cheryl and Melinda,” he replied.
“Tell you what, when we find out what’s causing people to think I’m gay, we’ll switch over.”
“What’s causing people to think you’re gay is you being gay!”
I ground my teeth with frustration.
“Michael, you said you know I’m gay, right?” I asked.
“Yes,” he replied.
“Is there any wriggle room? Sexuality is a spectrum between completely heterosexual and completely gay. Do you think I’m completely gay, or could I be somewhere in-between?”
“You mean bisexual?”
I nodded.
“You’re completely and utterly one hundred and twenty percent gay,” was his verdict.
Whoever was doing this to me had done a comprehensive stitch-up job.
When we got to school, we split up to go our separate ways. I headed to my locker to stash my running gear. There was a crowd surrounding it. I pushed my way through.
Someone had painted over Eugenie Butler-Winter’s artwork. The same red paint but in a display of ironic creativity, the vandal had arranged the words differently: ‘DEVIENT’, ‘AIDS’ and ‘PURVERT’. Mr Peters was furiously trying to scrub them off, watched by Vice Principal Hinterberry.
Eugenie Butler-Walker was standing to one side sobbing her heart out. Without even thinking, I went over and wrapped my arms around her in a comforting hug.
“I’d love you to paint over it again,” I said so quietly that only Eugenie could hear. “If you don’t, you’ve let them win.”
“Thanks,” she replied, before burrowing her head into my chest.
Mr Peters drew himself up to his full height. “YOU BOY!” he called out. Who knew he had such a stentorian voice! “PUBLIC DISPLAY OF AFFECTION AND INAPPROPRIATE TOUCHING. COME HERE AT ONCE!”
Vice Principal Hinterberry interceded.
“It’s okay, George, I’ve got this. Mr Randell is comforting the poor girl after she’s had her masterpiece ruined. And as you can see, Mr Randell is gay. I can absolutely guarantee there’s no inappropriate touching taking place.”
Actually, very aware of Eugenie’s beguiling scent and the warmth and softness of her body, particularly her breasts, my cock was creating a significant bulge in the front of my pants and doing some embarrassingly inappropriate touching. I just hoped Eugenie was too distracted to notice.
Looking around, I noticed Jaymon Solassie amongst the gawkers. Our eyes met and he winked at me. I didn’t know what that meant but I bet it wasn’t anything good.
“Okay now, break it up,” said Vice Principal Hinterberry, clapping her hands. “You’ve all got lessons to go to.”
She came over to Eugenie and me. “Miss Butler-Walker, please would you come to my office at the start of your lunch break. I’ll arrange for Mrs Crocker to be there too in order to discuss this development.”
Eugenie lifted her head from my chest and nodded.
“Mr Randell, I suggest you release the young lady, since you’re presumably here to use your locker.”
Reluctantly I unwrapped my arms and instantly regretted the loss of her warmth and softness. The wet patch on my chest was a tribute rather than a discomfort.
“Thanks,” she sniffed, and rubbed the tears away from her eyes.
Glowering at me, Mr Peters stood aside while I put my running gear in the locker and retrieved my books. Then I hurried to my first lesson.
The morning sucked. The unsettling glances and whispers in my direction were even worse than the previous day. Lunch provided little respite. Melinda and Cheryl sat opposite me again but proceeded to completely ignore me. If that was Melinda’s idea of reconnecting with me, I was singularly unimpressed. And I felt even more depressed that Maria didn’t join us.
When I visited my locker, I found that Mr Peters had managed to dull the red paint but the words were still quite visible and Eugenie Butler-Walker’s artwork was completely ruined. I had hoped I’d find her working on my locker again but no such luck.
The afternoon lessons started as unpromisingly as the morning’s had been, but midway through the afternoon there was a welcome distraction in the form of an emergency vehicle’s siren. The sound grew ever closer and louder until red and blue flashing emergency lights informed us that there was an ambulance in the school yard.
Watching through the classroom window, we saw two paramedics exit the ambulance with a gurney. Vice Principal Hinterberry, who was there to meet them, directed them round a corner and out of our sight. It felt like hours until there was a further development, although it was actually only a few minutes, but eventually the paramedics returned to the ambulance, transporting a patient with a heavily bandaged head on their gurney. After the patient was loaded into the ambulance, it departed in haste, siren wailing again.
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