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At school next day, Paul was marked absent. This gave Mary a chance to sit beside Tommy. It was a hot end of spring day and their portly teacher, Mr. Morgan, with his bulging neck held captive by his tight shirt collar, sweated profusely.
The morning passed slowly, the heat increasing in the poorly ventilated class...room, though the two windows were wide open.
At eleven o’clock, unable to bear the heat any longer, Mr. Morgan, with his handkerchief soaked in sweat, banged the top of his desk.
“Class! Take out your history books and turn to section two of, The Siege of Derry. Read the first three chapters. I'll return in a few minutes. When I do I’ll be asking questions. I don’t want to hear any disturbances. Right!” Giving his pupils one of his well...rehearsed glowers, he walked to the door. He turned. “I repeat, I don’t want to hear any disturbances.” Then he hurried to the staff room for a cool drink of water and a fresh handkerchief.
****
The rustling of pages and the whispers of some of the pupils echoed around the room.
Suddenly, “Thwack!”
Tommy jumped to his feet. He was holding the back of his neck. Black ink ran through his fingers and down his neck as he stared at the soggy piece of blotting paper. He swung around, his eyes blazing and his face red with anger. “Who did that?” he shouted.
The smirk on Spud’s face answered his question.
“Who did what, Ginger Bap?” sneered the bully, rising to his feet. “Did someone dye your Ginger Bap for you? Did they, eh? Eh, Ginger Bap?”
Bending he began to bang the lid of his desk and chant, “Ginger Bap! Ginger Bap! Na, na, na, na na.”
Encouraged by Murphy’s taunts, some of his cronies joined in. Soon the classroom resounded to the thudding jeers and banging desk lids.
Tommy stood glaring around the pupils as the noise grew louder and louder.
“Stop it! Stop it!”
The sharp squeals penetrated the din. Startled, most of the pupils stopped. Everyone now stared at Mary who was standing on top of her seat, her eyes wide and tearful.
Just then the door opened and the teacher entered. The smell of perfumed talc wafted into the room as he stared at Mary.
“What’s this all about? Mary, sit down!”
Embarrassed, Mary clambered back down onto her seat. She glanced at Tommy. Her face was blazing. The teacher glared at her, but said nothing.
****
After school, Tommy and Mary walked home together. Neither of them mentioned Mary’s outburst.
As they walked along the red...bricked wall that bordered the school football pitch, Tommy said, “I hope Paul’s OK. Would you tell him I’ll call over tonight?”
“Sure,” said Mary, giving him a shy smile.
It was then the four bullies dropped from the wall in front of them.
“Well, hello, Ginger Bap!” exclaimed Spud. “How’s it going, you little runt? I hope you’re fit for the big race... the race I’m going to whip you in.”
The bullies gathered around Tommy. One of them pushed Mary aside and she almost fell off the footpath. She watched, afraid for Tommy as Murphy began to push and taunt him.
“Ginger Bap! Ginger Bap! Na, na, na, na, na...”
Suddenly Tommy saw red. With a snarl, that took the bully by surprise, he swung his fist and hit him high on the cheek bone...
****
Later that afternoon, Tommy sat by the sink in the kitchen while his mother gently dabbed a disinfectant...soaked piece of cotton wool on the bruises on his face.
“Thomas, it’s not worth fighting about,” she scolded. “Sure everyone has a nickname. They used to call me, Skinny Lizzie from the bone yard. God, I was so thin in those days.” Tommy's mother laughed, as she patted her layered midriff. She studied her quiet son. “Ah look, you’ll get used to it. Nicknames don’t mean anything. Why, I just bet if you ignore those boys they’ll soon leave you alone. They’ll get fed up. You’ll see I’m right.”
“Ach, Mummy,” moaned Tommy. “It’s really hard to ignore Murphy. I get really angry with him. It’s my hair. I hate it. If I had any other color of hair, Murphy and his lot wouldn’t bother me.” He frowned. “Mummy, is there nothing you can do about the color, could you dye it?”
His mother frowned as she tried to understand her only son’s predicament. His hair was red, really red, but plenty of people had red hair. “Plenty of people have red hair, Thomas, famous people. They never let it bother them. Besides, I think it’s a lovely color. Your grandfather had lovely red hair ...”
“Lovely. Ahhh Mummy,” snapped Tommy. “What’s the point of talking to you about it? You don’t understand how I feel!” Suddenly, pushing his seat back, he rose to his feet. Stalking to the kitchen door he shouted, “I hate my hair! Don’t you understand? I... hate... my... hair!”
****
That evening he called to see Paul.
Mrs. Moran answered the door. Her eyes were red. It was obvious she had been crying.
Mary stood behind her. She looked pale.
“Is... is Paul in, Mrs. Moran?” Tommy glanced at Mary who suddenly pushed past her mother.
“Come on in, Tommy. Paul’s away to the hospital in Belfast. He’ll be there for a month or so for tests and stuff.”
“A month? Tests?” exclaimed Tommy, as he gently eased past Mrs. Moran and into the hall. “Is he O.K.?”
“Come on up to Paul’s room,” whispered Mary, glancing at her mother. “I’ll explain.”
****
In Paul’s bedroom Tommy sat on the edge of the bed. Mary sat beside him.
“Mummy’s very upset,” she said quietly staring at the wooden floor. “The doctors said Paul will need Kemo – something. He has some kind of an infection.”
“Kemo? What’s that?”
“I don’t know, but it’s serious. I hope it stops Paul from being so sick.”
“I hope so too, Mary,” said Tommy, studying her. She looked so sad.
“I miss him,” she whispered, big tears bubbling on her dull eyes.
Tommy gulped. He reached out to take her hand, but suddenly stopped. His face grew red with embarrassment.
“Ach, Mary, stop worrying. Sure it won’t be long until he’s back home. Remember Mickey Johnson. Sure he was in hospital for nearly six months and he was O.K. after. I wish I could get a few days off school. Murphy and his lot are really getting on my wick.”
Mary sniffed. “Tommy, you shouldn’t worry about them. Besides I like the color of your hair and you have lovely brown eyes too... ”
Now it was Mary’s turn to be embarrassed. She looked away. Tommy stared at her. He could feel his face growing redder and redder.
They both gave silent relieved sighs, when Mary’s mother came into the room carrying a tray. “I thought you’d like some biscuits and milk,” she said smiling at Tommy as she left the tray on top of Paul’s bedside table. She smiled at both of them then left the room.
****
The following weeks dragged by. Tommy did his very best to ignore the bullies, but it was no use. He did however manage not to get into any fights. Every day after school he trained for the race under the supervision of his grandfather. The school race track seemed to be the only place Murphy and his cronies kept away from.
****
Two weeks before Sports Day he met Mary on the way to school.
“Paul’s coming home today,” she told him. Her face was beaming with happiness.
“Great,” said Tommy. “I’ll be over early this evening to see him.”
****
Mary was sitting on the edge of Paul’s bed when Tommy was shown into his room. She watched Tommy’s eyes widen when he saw his pal. Paul was propped up on his bed. Two dark circles ringed his deep...sunk eyes. His cheekbones pushed sharply against the skin on his pale face. He was wearing his school cap. It was pulled down tightly over his ears. The sound of his labored breathing filled the bedroom.
“Hello... P... Paul,” muttered Tommy, forcing a smile. He could hardly speak he was so horrified at his pal’s appearance. He knew now Paul was seriously ill. “How... how are you?”
“Not too bad,” croaked Paul. “The injections are sore. I hate them. The chemo makes me sick as well.”
“Kemo? What’s Kemo?”
“Chemotherapy,” answered Mary, doing her best to smile. “It’s stuff they inject into him to make him better.”
Tommy noticed that Paul was clutching his blanket. He knew Paul was in pain. Before he could stop himself he asked, “What’s with your school cap?”
“Ach, it’s the chemo. It made me lose some of my hair.” Paul’s breathing quickened as he slowly reached and tugged off his cap. His dark eyes studied his pal’s shocked reaction. Only a few small clumps of hair remained on his head. Any pale skin that was exposed was coated in sweat.
“Awful looking isn’t it?” said Paul, attempting a smile. “I look like that guy from the King and I.”
“No you don’t,” said Tommy quickly, glancing at Mary. “Sure you’re sick, Paul.” He felt immediately annoyed by his own inadequacy.
Mary reached for Paul’s cap and placed it gently on his head. Her brother gave her a grateful smile. He turned to Tommy. “What about the race? Are you ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” said Tommy, glad to change the subject. “My granda is helping me. He was a runner when he was young. I’ve been training on the park track every night now.”
“You’ll whip Murphy for sure then,” said Paul. “I wish I could be there to see his face when you leave him behind. Ha, ha, ha... ” Suddenly he began to cough again. Still coughing, he pointed to the table. Mary reached for a glass and held it for her brother as he took several sips.
“The doctor said he mustn’t get excited,” said Mary quietly.
Just then Paul’s mother came in. “Paul I think you should get some rest now.”
“Ah, Mummy, sure I’m OK, really.”
“Rest,” said his mother, sharply.
“I’ll see you later, Paul,” said Tommy.
“Aye, see you tomorrow. Good luck with the race.”
****
As Tommy and Mary stood at the front door, Mary suddenly began to cry. “Tommy ... I ... I don’t think Paul’s going to get better ...”
“Ah don’t say that,” gulped Tommy, tears finding their way into his eyes. “Paul will soon be up and about. Besides the summer holidays will be starting soon. Paul will definitely be better by then.” He reached out as tears trickled down Mary’s face. “Don’t cry Mary,” he whispered, putting his arm around her shoulder. His reaction made Mary worse and she began to cry all the more.
Later she said, “Tommy, do you know what Paul said to me when he came home and Mummy had to get his cap to cover his head?” She sniffed, her shoulders heaving as she told him.
An early summer breeze blew lightly up the dusty street and death walked into the house behind them.
****
A week later, Tommy found Mary crying in the playground, near the toilets.
“Mary, what ... what’s wrong?” He grimaced as he thought, “Paul.”
“The Chemo ...” cried Mary. “It’s not working. It won’t take the ... cancer away ... It won’t take it away ...”
The word burned through Tommy ... cancer, as he held the weeping girl. Cancer, he hadn’t realized.
****
The space craft reached the Andromeda Galaxy three days later, around the same time that Tommy was standing with the rest of his class in the cemetery. Tommy blinked through his tear...filled eyes at Mary, who stood between her distraught parents. As the grave-diggers lowered the tiny coffin into the ground, Tommy broke down, as the memory of what Mary had told him at her front door. Paul had said, “I don’t know why Tommy should be complaining about having red hair. I wish I had red hair instead of no hair.”
Tears tumbled down Tommy’s freckled face as he saw Mary clinging to her mother, crying bitterly. He remembered her words too. “Tommy you shouldn’t worry about them. I like the color of your hair, and you have lovely brown eyes too.”
****
That evening Tommy sat in his bedroom thinking back on all the times he had enjoyed with Paul. He cried silently, not wanting his parents to hear him.
Downstairs his parents were discussing the tragic events.
“He’s really taken Paul’s death very badly,” said Kathleen.
“Aye,” said Bob, whose own hair was black with flecks of gray. He was a slim man, not much bigger than his only son. “But he’ll get over it.”
“I don’t know,” said Kathleen thoughtfully. “I think I’ll get Daddy to call tomorrow and have a talk to him.”
****
Tommy awoke. It was almost eleven thirty. The clock face shone at him. He shivered. Earlier when he had gone to bed he had been warm and had opened his bedroom window. Getting out of bed now he went over to the window to close it. He looked out. It was a beautiful moonlit night. The sky was filled with a myriad of stars. Shivering he reached to close the window. It was then he noticed a bright light. He knew it wasn’t a star. It was moving too quickly, too tiny to be a plane. “It’s not a helicopter,” he muttered, widening his eyes to get a better look. Crokery Wood was about two hundred meters away. It stood on a wide hill just above the town. Tommy frowned when he saw the light slowing until it was hovering just above the trees. Suddenly, so sudden it made Tommy gasp aloud, the light shot into the trees. He watched to see if there was any signs of a fire. There was none. What on earth was that? he thought. He stood at the window staring up at the wood, until shivering, he closed the window and returned to bed.
As he lay back, he thought about the strange light. It could have been a helicopter. But why didn’t I hear it. What on earth could it have been, if it wasn’t a helicopter? He turned to look at the picture of himself and Paul. They were standing under a tree. Both were wearing their school uniforms. Tommy suddenly began to cry. He couldn’t tell Paul about the light. He knew Paul would have wanted to go to the wood to investigate. “I can’t tell him anything,” he cried.
****
Dargust crawled from the wreckage. He was unhurt, except for a slight abrasion in his third leg. He looked back at the craft. It was disintegrating fast. It wouldn’t be long before all that would be left of it was black dust. He thought about the Valatians. Soon they would come, not many, perhaps six. They would not return until they found him.
****
Half an hour later, Tommy got out of bed. He couldn’t get back to sleep. He slipped over to the window. His eyes were drawn to the wood. A light flashed near the center of the trees. Suddenly, making up his mind, Tommy began to get dressed. Shortly, wearing a cotton T...shirt, runners and light blue jacket, he opened the window. Climbing easily down the wooden trellis that was fixed along the back of his house, he dropped the last meter onto the grass then headed up towards Crokery Wood.
****
He reached the trees five minutes later. Soon he was heading along the familiar moonlit path to the center of the wood. On week...ends he had often explored the wood with Paul and Mary. He knew the area very well. But in the dark it was a different case.
As he hurried deeper into the trees it grew darker. He was almost at the center of the trees when he heard a sound to his right. The low growl came again, making the hairs bristle on the back of his neck. He grew quickly frightened. It could be a Badger, he thought. He knew Badgers could be dangerous. Just then the moon slipped behind a cloud plunging the wood into complete darkness.