Life Imitates Art

Part 8 - Protection

Another weekend of near-silently sketching away to myself and slowly questioning how deep my skirt-wearing and nail-painting ways are truly part of my personality passes, and it's time to get ready for school. While Mr Carsley would wish that I don't even try to return - and admittedly, I wouldn't mind that outcome either - it's time to go back.

I pass Tess going to her room on my way to the shower. She's always first, just so she has more time to get herself prepared for school the way girls do.

"Hey sis!" She winks at me as well. "I can get that dark blue skirt out for you today if you'd like!"

I laugh it off and disappear behind the wooden door, locked with a click. I address a sudden need for the toilet and then carry on the usual routine. Basic body wash, simple shampoo, then out to dry off.

My return to my room shows every sign that Tessa has been in here. I don't know how far she's planning on taking this joke, but that skirt is now on my bed, laid beside the rest of my school clothes. Included in that is what I'll actually be wearing over my legs - the reliable pair of trousers. It's just as well with my legs in the state that they are. More hair than skin, not that it's a bad thing. I need something to make me look a little tougher.

I slip into today's uniform and grab the skirt in one hand. I tuck it under my arm and take it back to Tessa.

"I'm guessing you left this as part of the joke."

"I wondered if you would end up wearing it, but I don't think we actually want you to. School is hard enough on my special little bro. Let's not go adding reasons for you to be punched."

"Agreed."

She puts the skirt back in her wardrobe, turning her head towards me like a crane as she does. "But if you ever do want to borrow it for just sitting around the house, please just ask." Her face has no hint of a joke to it. "I'm serious. You can use any of them whenever you like. I don't want to stop you doing something if you like it. I just don't want you getting hurt for it."

"Sis, it's all good. Trust me, my days of skirt-wearing are behind me. Well, my day, more accurately."

Her face still looks completely stone-like. "Please, just be careful. And know that there's no judgment from me. I'm happy to help if that's how you feel. That's all I want to make clear."

"I don't know why you're being so weird about it. You asked me to try some on, so I did. There's nothing more to it."

"Well, that's all good. In that case, you should probably follow the rules on the sign on the door. Out you go!" She cheerily dismisses me, so I go back to working on my own look. It has a lot fewer components to it than my sister's. While she seemed to be midway through facial reconstruction with makeup, I just have to brush my hair and make sure my bag is packed. I can't do much about the spots. At least there aren't that many, and most are in inoffensive places on my face. If I was being uncharitable, I would say my face is generally a sight for offence. Then again, it could just be puberty talking. And it's not like I mind it. There's no one to appeal to, not at an all boys school. Honestly, not much appeals to me generally on that side, even the animated kind. I'm not that kind of artist.

So how do I get to school? Is it Tessa's Micra? Her school is in the complete opposite direction to mine, so a bus is a must. She does drop me off at the stop in the mornings when she has time, and she makes sure that this is one of them. She tells me it's just for protection. I don't know what she thinks that will do. I've made sure to leave the sketchbook at ho - of course I didn't! I'll just keep it to myself. If anything, it's there for luck.

"Just think. I could take you to school every day if you were actually a Maxine and not a Max!" She has made this sort of joke a few times, but never so poignantly or pointedly.

"I'm...do you want me to be a girl or something?" I don't do subtext. I need to know why she keeps bringing this up.

"I just want what's best for you, bro. I really do. I'm sorry if the jokes are getting under your skin."

"Nah, it's nothing like that. I just don't want you getting your hopes up that I'm anything like that. Skirts are nice, I'll say that proudly enough. I wouldn't dare wear one in front of anyone."

"And that's all good! Just know I've got your back. I won't hug you, though. Too cringe."

"All of the cringe." With an awkward laugh and a wave, I exit the car with my bag and await the bus to the school. It's not a long wait, but it is a lonely one. None of these guys are anything like a friend to me. I suppose it's what I get for randomly appearing at the start of the school session. But you would think that by February, I would have a friend or two. Nope. Too much of an oddball for it. Friendship, in its physical form, is nowt more than a novel concept for me.

The bus is a comfy experience. I tend to usually enjoy my isolation by going through old sketches. Due to Thursday's incident, I'll refrain for this morning only. I don't want a repeat that soon. I wouldn't even call it traumatic. It's been the case a few times now. Some of these guys just hate me to hate something or someone. I really don't know what else I did. Is drawing so detested? Might explain why there's no art department at school. It's one of these ones that dresses itself as proper but is a rough-and-tumble camp raising the 'manly men' of the future, whatever that means.

The seats on the bus are soft and wide, mine even more so due to my lack of popularity. But really, most of the kids that go don't need the bus. They're mostly local enough to walk. I wouldn't walk this. I wouldn't be able to.

Arriving at the school grounds, my favourite human being is waiting outside. This is not a regular event. He is almost always in his office doing rector things. My suspicions are that he's here to see me. He knows I take the bus.

"Good morning, Max."

"Good morning, sir." Keep it proper.

"I wanted to inform you personally that I have suspended Bryn. It wasn't my decision alone. Apparently, some members of the faculty reviewed the situation. While I want to raise tough young men, the teachers felt that the attack was unprovoked. I reviewed it on the CCTV and decided that this was the correct action."

"I'm glad about that. For how long?"

"It has to be indefinite, given the circumstances. Now, Bryn's friends still won't be very happy to see you. I can't suspend all of them. The easiest solution, and the one I see fit, is to place you in a protected atmosphere during lunch break."

"What exactly would that be?"

"One of our teachers always takes his lunch in the classroom. He's a bit of a loner. Like yourself, if I can say such a thing to a student."

He likely isn't allowed to, but he continues after a quick nod.

"You'll go to his classroom. You can take your sketchbook, listen to music, literally do as you please within the school rules. This way, you aren't a target. You are alone, but in a protected way. Does that satisfy you?"

"I think it is for the best. Which teacher are you talking about?"

"Your maths teacher. Mr Trundell."

He does give the impression of being a lone wolf. It has to be said.

"I'm alright with that. How do I grab my lunch in the queue?"

"I have thought of that. I can't let you go early. You'll go ten minutes late and return to the classroom instantly. It minimises the potential window for another...collision with the rest of the boys."

So other than all of these rules making me feel like somewhat of a special little snowflake, it has to be better than being knocked out.