The Old Tuck Shop

THREE

Before me, stood a boy with pale skin, blonde hair and ocean blue eyes. He wore a bright red Beatles t-shirt and extremely ripped black jeans. He scanned me up-down, and an awkward silence filled the room. Every movie cliche happened at this moment. I saw tumbleweeds, and I swear I heard crickets. Nevertheless, I wanted to get along with him.

"So, um...you must be Finn," he said timidly, breaking the tension as if knowing that I wasn't going to say anything.

I clenched the duvet. Finn. Not many people called me Finn. Only my mother, Mabel, and a few school friends but that's about it. I wondered what my friends were doing right now. Do they even know that I've moved away? I didn't have many close friends except Josh, but I wondered if he'd be okay with it all. Surely, they'd tell him. Well, I'd like to hope they'd tell him.

"Yeah...I'm...Finn." I stood up from the bed and smiled at him. I wanted to give him the right impression and crying over a nickname just seemed stupid.

"And I'm Ton," he replied. We shook hands.

"Ton?" I asked, "That's your name?"

"Short for Braxton," he answered as if able to read my thoughts.

"Why not just call yourself Brax, as normal people do?" I chuckled.

"Do I look like I fit in with normal people?" he asked, pointing at himself.

"Fair point, well taken," I laughed. Another awkward silence filled the room as if we had no idea what to talk about.

"So..." I began, "...you like The Beatles?..." I asked, referring to his shirt and posters.

He nodded, "My Dad likes them. I guess it rubbed off to me...what do you listen to?"

"Oh, I...um...I don't listen to music," I replied. It was true. I'd only ever listened to music over my friend's house, or in a bus on a school trip. My mother had a wide cd collection, but we very rarely listened to any of it. Perhaps she stopped listening when my Dad left as if every song reminded her of him.

"I'm showing you some of my stuff at one point," he chuckled, sprawling out on his bed.

"I'd like that," I grinned.

Out of boredom, he pulled out his phone and started texting. "So...what are you in this shit-tip for?" he said casually, paying no attention to me, or his language.

Suddenly, all the tears I had been holding in for so long had finally poured out. My cover had been blown.

"Oh, shit...I mean...god!" He quickly wiped my tears with the bottom of his shirt. It lifted and it exposed a small, lumpy patch of skin. I didn't question it in case it was too personal, so I kept my questions to myself, but couldn't help but take glances at it, wondering what had happened.

He saw me staring down at his stomach and sighed, "Oh, that...I...um..." he flustered, tucking his shirt into his jeans. I instantly felt bad for looking, thinking that he now hated me.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to...it's just that your shirt lifted a bit." I bit my lip. The last thing I wanted to be was for him to hate me.

"No it's fine, you may as well know..." he sighed, gesturing to me to sit down on the bed with him.

"Ton, you don't have to...it's fine..."

"Dude, I want to..." he interrupted.

"I'll tell you my story, then..." I replied, despite feeling terrified of sharing anything about last night. I never found it easy to open up to people. A curse that had been passed down to me by my mother, who always kept to herself.

"My parents weren't exactly perfect. My stepdad was a heavy drug pusher and my mum loved him and I hated it. She was just scared of what would happen if she decided to leave him."

I patted him on the back, thinking it was the best thing to do. I didn't know what I'd do if he started crying. God, I hated it when people cried in front of me. Usually, it would be the other way around.

"This one night, everything was the same...the shouting, the screaming," he stuttered, "I'd just had enough, so I rang Childline. My stepdad, of course, was so pissed off at me and hit and kicked me to a pulp...it was my fault...I shouldn't have rung them..."

"It's not your fault. You just did what's best for you and your Mum, that's all...what about your stomach?" I asked.

"When the Police came...he heard the sirens...and threw the kettle water at me..." he pulled up his shirt. The burns covered his entire chest. It was thick and lumpy, and salmon pink. There were scars from skin grafts on both arms, "Doctors said it was a miracle that I survived such burns."

Without saying a word, I hugged him. I felt like he could be my brother.

"See, everyone's got their little secrets," he whispered in my ear.

"I guess it's my turn, then," I chuckled.

"Only if you're comfortable, Finn," he said, making room on his bed for me to sit down.

"I guess my Mum was never a perfect Mum...she'd always leave me on my own..." I started, "...but she'd always come back," I tried to laugh, hoping it would lighten the story, but it didn't.

"I thought she'd come back this time...but she didn't..." my voice cracked. I realised that I was on my own now. I fully understood the situation and the fact that my mother was never coming back to rescue me.

"Eh, eh...it's okay..." Ton said, pulling me in for a hug, and my tears began to pour out again, "...let it all out," he rubbed my back.

"It's just not fair," I cried.

"I know...but don't think that this whole thing doesn't make you as good as everyone else, okay?" he said, "you're special, and you don't deserve this."

I let go of his embrace and wiped my eyes, "how long ago did that happen to you?" I asked, trying to push the conversation off of me.

About four years ago," he replied, "I don't think about it now...well only when I have a shower, or go shirtless," he chuckled, trying to play it cool.

I sighed, fearing that I would be here just as long.

"You won't be here for four years, Finn. Trust me, in a few weeks or months, a beautiful family will take you home in their beautiful car and you'll live a beautiful life with a beautiful brother."

"Was that supposed to be sarcastic?" I said.

"No. People love cute little boys like you. You'll be out of here in no time," he replied.

I sighed. I didn't even know if I would want to be fostered, or even adopted by some strangers. Even though my mother left me, I still felt an ounce of hope that she would return and save me one day. I guess that ounce of hope will always be with me. Despite everything she's put me through, I still strangely love her. I know I shouldn't, but I just can't help it.

"Look, until then, I'll be your brother. Deal?" Ton said, reaching his hand out.

"Deal," I replied, and we shook hands.