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| Malarkey |
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| by Keith Gray |
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| Red Fox
Fiction dealing with bullying, truancy & school problems |
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ONE
A Thursday, about half-past ten, and already my brain was frozen. I blamed double maths with Mr Macallan. Wet break meant the cloakroom was packed and noisy with every conversation about who'd done what to whom, who was going to, and who wouldn't dare, being shouted. I wanted a little space to help my head thaw. I wanted a cigarette to get the defrosting started. There were too many dripping cagoules, too many squeaky trainers on the damp floor, and the fluorescent lights were losing their struggle to dig the corridor out of its gloomy dimness. Maybe it was just the mood I was in, but summer seemed such a long, long way off.
Brook High is a great grey concrete ants' nest of a school, with well over two thousand of us scurrying around between lessons, so 'a little space' is always going to be difficult to come by. I had my bag with me - it was a bulky black holdall, and I used it like a bulldozer's blade to push a way through the hubbub. I hadn't gone more than two steps when a hand reached out to grab me.
'Are you Malarkey?' A slim, dark-haired girl in a customized school uniform had hold of my arm and wouldn't let go. 'You're John Malarkey, right?'
I nodded. 'Yeah, I'm Malarkey.'
I tried to think if I might have seen her before. I'd not even been at Brook for two weeks yet, and there were so many kids, different ones in each of my classes, that I'd been finding it difficult to pin anyone down to talk to more than once. This girl looked about my age, about sixteen, so could easily have sat behind me in maths or English.
Her clothes weren't exactly school ruling, but were passable as Brook colours - enough to keep most of the teachers from complaining anyway. And I liked the way she wore them, making it look as though she'd bought an individual outfit rather than a dictated uniform. She wasn't quite as tall as me, but was by far prettier. She had a perfect beauty spot on her right cheek that could have been make-up. Still, I didn't recognize her. 'Who're you?'
She didn't answer, but at least let go of me. She turned to look over her shoulder and rose up on her tiptoes, searching for someone in the crowd. 'He's here,' she called, signalling, waving and pointing at me. 'This is him.'
I grabbed hold of her now. 'What's going on?' I didn't like the idea of being singled out.
She squirmed free of my grip and stepped away from me, slipping easily in among the crowd again. I went to follow her, but was suddenly, roughly, shoved from behind.
'Hey!'
I was clattered against the lockers. The crowd withdrew like greasy water, with me as the single drop of Fairy Liquid at its centre. A kick in the back of my knee buckled my leg and sent me down.
'Hey!'
I tried to turn round, but was thumped hard between the shoulders and pushed face first to sprawl on the wet, dirty floor. My bag was snatched away from me. All I saw were the speedy heels of identical trainers as my attackers took off along the corridor.
Maybe it wasn't a fist that had hit me, I was thinking; maybe it was a bus. I used the lockers for support and stifled a groan as I got to my feet. Everybody was staring at me, but no one moved to help. There were two lads running towards the stairs; one blond, one dark and spiky - the blond-haired kid carried my bag.
'They've got my bag!' I said. Still nobody moved; they just kept their distance. I looked, but couldn't see the girl with the perfect beauty spot among any of the blank faces. The two lads were up the stairs out of sight. 'They've got my bag,' I repeated, almost as an explanation this time, because I'd realized it was up to me alone to give chase.
Not that I was sure my legs were going to make it. They were shaky, untrustworthy with the shock of what had just happened. Thankfully life returned to them as I pounded down the corridor. I shoved the gawping statues out of my way and made certain I didn't lose sight of those identical trainers. I leaped up the stairs two at a time, mindful of the wet footprints, wary of slipping. I could feel the shape of my mobile phone in my coat pocket so I knew there wasn't anything particularly valuable in my bag - apart from my Walkman, I suppose - but that wasn't the point. I swung around the banister at the first-floor landing and charged past the classrooms.
The floor was swarming with Year Eight kids. 'Get out of the way!' They flattened themselves up against the lockers. 'Move!' Anybody who didn't got a shoulder or an elbow as I charged through. 'Get out of the way!' I knocked one lad flat.
Blondie seemed to have the same idea and crashed through the middle of a group of five or six with my bag swinging like a weapon. Two of the group were taken by surprise, barged to the floor with arms and legs flailing, skidding across the damp tiles. They saw me coming and tried to scramble away. I managed to hurdle over them, windmilling my arms as I leaped, and somehow keep my own feet underneath me. People were staring; I sped by them all, keeping my eyes on Blondie and my bag.
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| RRP £5.99 • Paperback |
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| Publication Date: 05/06/2003 •
208 pages • B format • ISBN/EAN: 9780099439448 |
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