The 8th Page 2

  “Think of your mum and dad now,” said Mrs Price.

  I shook my head. “I’ll never be the son they want. I know that now. They want someone academically bright. They want someone who can make something of their lives. That isn’t me. I’m a nothing. I’m a nobody. If it weren’t for what’s to come today - no one would remember me when I’m gone. No one...Rebecca...put it in your mouth. If I feel teeth...I’ll shoot your friends.”

  “This isn’t the way,” said Mrs Price, “we can suspend them all whilst we look into this...We can...”

  “Rebecca...What are you waiting for?” I said interrupting Mrs Price from her desperate flow. A thousand jolts of electricity shot through my body as I felt Rebecca’s fingers brush against my hardening penis. Just as good as I had always imagined. I couldn’t help but close my eyes for the briefest of seconds as I felt her warm mouth envelope my shaft, sliding down to the base. Feels so fucking good. I knew it would. Slightly flustered, I addressed the rest of the class, “One by one, I want you all to bring your mobile phones to the desk...Starting with you...” I pointed the gun in the direction of Craig Clemo, a dark haired lad with big brown eyes who sat on the far right of the classroom, against the wall. I didn’t mind Craig. He’s a bit of a nothing like me. When the bullies are out in force he just keeps his head down and doesn’t get involved. I sometimes wonder how different my school days would have been if I had chosen his coping mechanisms too. Had I not stood up for David Barlow when Piers was picking on him would Piers ever have known of my existence or could I have just ghosted my way through his life?

  Craig stood up and brought his phone to the front of the class. He put it on the desk and walked back to his seat.

  “You,” I said pointing the gun to Rachel, who sat behind him. She too stood up and dropped her phone onto the desk. When she sat down the next person brought their phone forward too without having to be asked. I smiled and sat back. Whilst they’re doing that it affords me the time to enjoy what Rebecca is doing. A flicking sensation on the tip of my penis, with what feels to be her tongue. A gentle tickling around my scrotum. All those years of practicing have most certainly paid off for her. I couldn’t help but sigh as her mouth slipped down the shaft once more before sliding back up. Faster..Faster...Slower. Teasing. But nicely so. I wonder if the other girls in the class are as good as this. My eyes fix upon Mrs Price. I wonder if she’s as good...

  A tingling sensation, not dissimilar to pins and needles, spreads through the tops of my legs. The pleasurable, familiar feeling of an orgasm about to hit. I tried my best not to show it in my face as I continued staring at Mrs Price, wondering what it would be like to fuck her. I moved my spare hand under the table and held Rebecca’s head in place. Just in time too. She tried to pull away from me as I ejaculated into her mouth. Hold her there. Listen how she chokes it down. Good girl. I released my grip on the back of her head and let her move away. I can hear that she’s crying. Was it really that bad?

  A feeling of guilt rushed through me as I suddenly became aware of everyone looking at me. Watching my every move. Watching me cum. I pushed my cock, coated in Rebecca’s saliva, back into my trousers and zipped myself up. What have I done? What have I become? I don’t recognise myself anymore.

  Another new school to find my way around. I love my dad but I don’t love what he does for a living. Constantly moving house and taking mum and I with him, leaving behind friends I’ve only just met...Having to start again from scratch. Catching up in classes I already struggle with because they’ve chosen different books to study from the last school I attended. I hate being the outsider. The one who can’t find any friendly faces amongst the crowds. It’s always the same. Go to school. Get lost looking for class. Arrive at class late, or with a teacher escort - which is far worse...Stand in front of the room and introduce yourself. Explain why you’re new to the town. Sit in the only spare seat, in the front of the classroom, and feel the gaze of every pupil fix upon you for the rest of whatever lesson it is, awkwardly share books with someone who’d rather you had your own...A pile of homework to catch up on; mainly reading assignments you know you’ll never be able to complete. Yes, I love my dad but I hate that we have to move around so much.

  “Have a good day, honey,” my mum called out. I turned back to her, when I got to the school gates, and saw her waving frantically. I should wave back but it’s embarrassing enough that she just called me ‘honey’ in earshot of other people who may or may not be in my classroom. I gave her a faint smile and turned towards the school. Here we go again.

  The first days are always the worst. At least by the end of the first day you have normally made one friend; someone to look out for on the second and third day whilst you establish new friendships. As I scanned the various faces in the crowd walking with me to the front door, I wondered whether any of them were likely to be my new friends. I have to say...On first impressions none of them look to be that friendly! Not even through the front door yet and I feel uncomfortable. Not the best of starts I think to myself as I hear the random mutterings of small groups that I pass all wondering who the ‘new kid’ is and how ‘weird’ I look.

  How they can say I look ‘weird’ is beyond me. Across the car park, in the corner, I saw a group all dressed in black. Even the boys had make-up on from what I could see. Another group, in the same car park, all wore matching clothes with their hair styled in various multi-coloured spikes...And here I am dressed in faded blue jeans, a black hooded top with the hood down and newish white trainers - which, admittedly, are a little on the bright side but I expect that’ll change after a couple of days schooling here. My hair is the natural brown colour I was born with, I’m clean shaven. My eyes are the same dark brown colour as each other, unlike the girl I just walked by who seemed to have one blue eye and one green...Yet people are saying I’m the weird one. If anything, I reckon I’ll blend in here. Unless, of course, I decide to take refuge in the car park at any moment. Definitely a place to avoid going to by what I’ve seen.

  I pushed the large double doors open and stepped inside my new place of supposed learning. The familiar smell of ‘school’ hit me as soon as I stepped over the threshold. I don’t know what it is about schools which make them all have the same old musty scent. Perhaps it’s the old text-books we’re to work from? Perhaps it’s those which smell of old-age and death and you just notice it more because there’s so many littered around the building. Perhaps.

  The corridor in front of me stretched as far as the eye could see. The walls were lined with tall wooden lockers with occasional gaps between the lockers where the doors were to the various classrooms. What’s the betting this is like all the other schools I’ve been to and the classrooms aren’t in any particular order despite being known, on the timetable, as ‘class one’, ‘class two’ etc etc? The last school I was in, a few towns away from where I am today...The first door I came across was labelled number twenty-four. Days later I found number one stuck in a different wing entirely and even then it wasn’t by the main entrance. Instead it was tucked away on the top floor next to room sixty-five. The first time I noticed this, I can’t even remember what school it was, I thought it was because some bored student had simply gone around swapping door plaques around to confuse people. With all the different schools I’ve been to...I know this isn’t the case. Not unless the person responsible is in the same boat as me and doing it in every school he, or she, is visiting. I doubt it, though.

  I stepped to the side of the corridor, to get out of the way of the never-ending sea of students, and reached into my pocket to find my timetable; a small piece of paper with my lessons and classrooms printed upon it which the school posted out to my house about a week ago.

  “You new? Looking for somewhere in particular?” asked a quiet male voice from behind me. I turned around and saw a lad of similar age to myself. A mousey-blonde colour to his hair and freckles on his face. A cheeky smile with massive dimples on his cheeks. I couldn’t help but wonder whe
ther it was a smile to be trusted or a smile because he was about to send me in the completely wrong direction just because he could.

  “Is that obvious?” I asked.

  “Well for starters you’re wearing your rucksack over both shoulders. No one does that in this school unless they’re new. And secondly, you’re looking at your timetable with a look of confusion on your face. You know...Putting two and two together...” he laughed. “Where you headed?”

  I checked my timetable, “English with Mrs Jones,” I said.

  He smiled wider. “Snap! You may as well follow me,” he volunteered. I thanked him and slipped the timetable back into my pocket. “What’s your name?” he asked after informing me his name was David.

  * * * * *

  David was looking at me, from his seat just behind Rebecca’s, with a look in his eyes which suggested he had no idea who I was. As I listened to Rebecca’s sobs as she took her seat, I couldn’t help but wonder who I was too. I’m not this person. I’m not. I’m a good person. Normally. I’m like my friend David. I’m one of the good ones. Who I am today...This isn’t me, usually. It’s not. They made me. They turned me into this. Sadistic. Hateful. Vengeful. This is their fault.

  I looked around the rest of the classroom. They’re all looking at me with the same look as David. Mrs Price is looking at Rebecca. I can see, in her eyes, that she desperately wants to go and comfort her. She suddenly turned to look at me, as though she could feel my glare burning into the side of her pretty face. I don’t recognise the expression in her eyes. It’s as though she’s asking, ‘what have you done?’ without actually speaking the words. I forgot how much I hated myself, right now, to answer her with a look of my own. I look which told her - ‘I did what she deserved and that was only the beginning’.

  I stood up, behind the teacher’s desk, to address the class. I feel as though I should say something. Whilst I am sure some of them know why I am here, I’m positive some of them don’t have a clue. After all, some of my classmates...I’ve hardly spoken to them and, in turn, they’ve hardly spoken to me. It’s only fair, given the circumstances, I give them a chance to understand what I’m doing here. And it’s only fair to let them know, they’ll come to no harm.

  “If I call your name, I’d like you to stand up please...David Barlow...” the class went silent, “...Lindsey West...” One by one, when I called out the names, they stood up just as I had requested them to. Each of them looked just as nervous as the one who was called out before. They have nothing to be nervous about. Seven names in total - David, Lindsey, Elizabeth, Marcus, Samantha, Kate, Helen. Funny how it’s mainly girl’s names I’m calling out. I guess it’s more in boys’ nature to be cruel to one another. Not for much longer. Not by the time I’m done. And word of what’s to come will soon spread around the town too; a harsh warning to others who may be making similar mistakes as made by Piers and his little friends.

  I looked around the classroom at the pupils still sat down. One of them was Craig Clemo. I considered calling his name out too but...I recall him being involved in one of the incidents where I was under fire. He kept his head down. He didn’t offer help or anything. Not even when the group left me alone and I was nursing a bloodied nose. He didn’t ask if I was okay. He didn’t offer to get help. Nothing. Just stood there watching me. He can stay sat down.

  “If you’re currently standing up...I’m sorry you’re here. Had there been any other way, I would have taken it I can assure you. I don’t want to hurt you. You’ve done nothing wrong to me or, as far as I know, anyone else. If you’d like to come forward...You can bring your chairs...You can sit to the side, near me; out of harm’s way...” There was the briefest of pauses before each of the seven came to the front of the class as I had requested. The rest of the class just looked nervous and confused. “I know you won’t but...Should any of you attempt anything funny...You’ll have to join the rest of your classmates. Understood?”

  They nodded. David looked as though he desperately wanted to say something but no words came from his quivering mouth.

  Mrs Price asked, “What about me? What have I done?”

  I shot her a look, “It’s what you didn’t do...” I know I originally thought this wasn’t about her but Mrs Price is just as bad as some of the students who sit in front of me. The way she berated some of us, in front of the whole class, did nothing for self-esteem and embarrassed us. The more I see her, sitting there...The more I see her as another form of bully.

  3.

  David led the way to my first classroom. I have to say, it was a nice stroke of luck meeting him. I hate meeting new people; I always feel awkward...Never sure what to say to potential new friends. Normally I just hang around a large group and occasionally laugh at a joke one of them may say. Then, hopefully, one of them will start to include me in their conversations too. Of course, it doesn’t always work like that. Sometimes you can just sit there and be completely ignored. That’s never fun. It makes you feel worthless and insignificant. It was definitely a stroke of luck bumping into David now. I only but hope we share more than one class together.

  “Here we are,” said David. He stopped outside a classroom door. “You might not want to go in with me,” he said.

  Okay, I wasn’t expecting that. “Don’t want to be seen with the new guy, huh?” He didn’t answer, just looked away with a sheepish expression on his face - the once cheeky smile now faded. I can’t believe he actually looked worried about being seen with me. I know no one really likes to be seen with the new kid on the block but this was the most extreme I’ve seen it. “Fine, whatever.”

  I pushed past him and walked through the busy sounding classroom. The room, full of my new classmates, went quiet as soon as they saw me. I won’t lie, it’s not the most comfortable of welcomes. I felt like a stranger stumbling through a small town for the first time...A town where they aren’t used to seeing a new face. They aren’t used to it and nor do they welcome it.

  “Hi,” I said. Unsurprisingly no one answered. I turned back to the door hoping to see David’s once friendly face. He wasn’t there. Well...By myself then. “Okay then...” I muttered, more or less to myself, as I walked over to one of the spare seats at the front of the classroom. I always prefer sitting at the front of the class. I learned long ago that the teacher picks on you more if you choose to sit towards the back of the room as they think you’re not paying any attention to what they’re trying to teach you. I’m sure this teacher will be no different.

  I started to root around in my rucksack. I wasn’t looking for anything in particular; simply trying to distract myself from the whisperings coming from behind me. Little voices enquiring who I was and what I was doing here...One voice explaining how bent I looked. A friendly bunch then. In times like these, as sadly it’s not the first time I’ve experienced this, I just have to keep telling myself that everything is going to be okay and they just need the chance to get to know me a little better. Day one is always awkward. By day two - you’re yesterday’s news. Just need to make it through to tomorrow.

  “Faggot!” shouted a voice from behind me. I turned away from my rucksack and looked in the direction of the voice. One thing to whisper behind my back, it’s another thing altogether to start name calling me...The insult came from a lad in the back of the class. Of course it was the back. A scruffy, stocky lad with messy blonde hair. He wasn’t looking at me, though. Was the insult even meant for me? I followed his gaze to where David was stood in the doorway of the classroom. David looked anxious. Is this why he didn’t want to come in with me? Worried the lads would pick on me because I was with him? Makes sense. I did think it was weird how he went from being so friendly to so cold. “I was starting to think you weren’t coming in today,” said the boy at the back of the class.

  “Just took him longer to wank off Mr Fitzpatrick this morning...” said a lad to the left of the one who started the insults. Laughter rippled through the classroom from most of the students. David didn’t laugh. He sim
ply walked over to an empty chair behind a pretty girl who was also laughing at him.

  “Fuck,” said the first lad, “why are you such a fucking faggot? Your mum and dad must be gutted to have you as a son. Oh wait, your mum’s dead isn’t she? Surprised I forgot that. After all, it was only last night I was skull fucking her corpse...Still...Your dad isn’t dead. Probably just wishes he was. I reckon he’s sat at home now wondering why his son is such a bender...”

  “Maybe he’s using you as his role model,” I said. I couldn’t help but speak up. David was visibly upset and this was obviously a daily occurrence. No sooner had the words escaped my mouth then the class fell silent. The lad looked at me; a look of hatred in his blue eyes.

  “Fuck you say?”

  “Well I too was wondering how he’s as gay as he is...The way he so expertly sucks cocks...The only way I can see someone his age, being so great at swallowing spunk, is if he had a role model. I look around here and the only possibility is you and your bum-chum friends.”