‘Ah, so that’s where you’ve been.’ Mel raised her eyebrow and smiled, tipping her head to the right. They were walking from the science block to English, side by side, through the paved picnic area. Daffodils in the sparse flowerbeds bobbed about in the breeze like corks on a stormy sea. Darren had walked past, his hands in his pockets.
‘Alright?’ he’d said.
‘Alright,’ Marcus replied. That was it, nothing else.
‘What do you mean?’ He blushed, of course he did.
‘You and Darren. It’s obvious.’ Looking around, she checked there was no one listening.
‘How?’
‘The way he looked at you then. The fact that I hardly see you outside school any more, that you hum to yourself and daydream during class. You’re in love,’ she teased, linking her arm through his.
‘No I’m not!’
‘I believe you.’ She cuffed his arm.
‘D’you think we’re disgusting?’
‘Of course I don’t. But I think you should be careful.’
‘Why? People already think I’m gay. What does it matter?’
‘Yes, maybe, but you and Darren? Listen to me. Be careful.’
‘He’s not stupid you know. He’s not like the others, he’s different.’
‘Perhaps, he is. But trust me, if this gets out he’ll turn on you just like the others, and if he doesn’t it’s the family you’ll have to watch for, his brothers.’
‘So we won’t get caught.’
‘OK lover boy. I’ve missed you though,’ she said and pushed through the door into English, saluting Mr Laugham as she dropped into her seat.
When he was four, Marcus trapped his finger in a door; so young he wouldn’t remember, but this is the kind of experience that the body – and that lizard part of the brain – never forgets and is always vigilant for. Testing the world for the potential of pain. Watchful. He’d cried and screamed and to his little befuddled mind it took forever for his mother to arrive and save him. He thought she would never come. Does this explain anything? Who knows, these are just stories.