Nettles by Adam Scovell

Author:Adam Scovell [Scovell, Adam]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Influx Press
Published: 2022-05-15T00:00:00+00:00

My insect understanding of the world continued as life at school developed its patterns and rhythms. I scuttled away at every opportunity. Though the motorway shielded me from lunchtime attacks, I could not escape so easily during the morning breaks.

For those fifteen minutes I had to fend for myself, keeping on the move. After only a week, the few boys I could previously rely on for friendship had learned of my dangerous baggage. They knew that He and His small gang had developed a sort of understanding with me, some even believing that I had a demented friendship with Him. I was avoided, left to roam.

He found me almost instantly the following Monday break, dragging me behind the woodwork block without much trouble before the usual beating. I was already exhausted and battered from the morning’s Games, which He had bunked yet again by not bringing any kit. I felt the dried mud fall with each punch and kick.

There was a commotion in the yard that morning. A porn magazine had been smuggled in. Unusually, it had been torn to shreds within minutes. Stray fragments of flesh were found for days afterwards. The images of women’s bodies had been so confusing for some, producing a mixture of attraction and disgust, that the only reaction left had been to tear them apart. The odd teacher on duty could be seen sneakily capturing bits under their shoes and stealing glances down in between keeping an eye on the boys.

While this was happening, He asked where I went at lunchtime last week, clearly noticing my disappearance. I did not tell Him. My neck was strangled with my tie as an interrogation, but I would never tell Him about the motorway. The marsh provided a mental block to His taunts, effective to such an alarming degree that even His followers shared nervous glances when their startling violence got them nowhere.

I would retreat more and more to the motorway that week, sneaking out at lunchtime with such regularity that I was soon surprised by how easy it seemed. Teachers were always handily drawn away by minor diversions: a group of boys dangerously throwing stones at the windows of passing trains, fights breaking out at the precise moment when I needed a clear run to the path, or a football flying over a fence resulting in an outcry for the teacher on duty to go and get it.

On Thursday, something finally broke the routine. He had misjudged His angle behind me in the morning break, trying to push me into a doorway near the lunch hall. It was a risky strategy, as it provided little cover from the eyes of others. He did it anyway.

Having found me loitering, He blocked me within the small frame of the door and applied various pushes and punches. Adrenaline left my hands frozen to the point where it felt as if I was crushing the bones of my fingers in my own grip. A teacher spied what was happening and dashed over heroically.

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