This Still Happens

Chapter Eight - Trust: Gordon

I take a step backwards, shaking my head. "You're just saying that to try and get me to trust you." I want to be sick. I want to hit him before he has a chance to hit me. My hands itch to slap him, and I never thought I'd feel that way about Scott.

Scott's mouth drops open. "I'm not! Gordon, it's the truth!"

But I'm striding away, slamming the library door behind me and then running off down the corridor.

That's a cruel trick to play and I'm not falling for it, not even if it gives me the chance to wonder if... maybe...

I stumble to a halt and press my back against the exposed-brick wall outside the Year 8 form room. The clay is cold and rough against my fingertips, and I squeeze my eyes shut, flinching as I gulp air past the agonising lump in my throat. It feels like I've swallowed a tumblestone, and I can barely breathe.

I take off my glasses and tuck them into the breast pocket of my blazer, pressing the heels of my hands against my eyes as I purse my lips and try to get my lungs to calm down. But the corridor spins violently around me, and, before I know what's happening, I'm crashing against the ugly lino, pressing my lips together to try and quell the nausea. Too hot. Too cold. Both at once.

Running footsteps approach. My notebook tumbles to the floor with a smack, and grey trouser-legs crease in front of me, an unknown figure crouching until Scott's face comes into view.

"Gordy, oh, my God, are you OK?" He wraps his arms around me and hauls me upright, holding me against his chest.

I'm too weak to fight him off, and my heart starts racing as I flail ineffectually against his embrace. I mumble words that aren't words, and try to wriggle free.

"Hey, Gordy, it's OK, it's just me. It's Scotty," he says softly, stroking my hair. "Look, I'll let go of you if you want, but I'm worried about you. I saw you fall. Are you OK?"

He's worried about me. He's holding me. He's holding the one kid in his class that he knows is gay... holding me close, not caring that I'm obviously gonna take this opportunity to touch him up. Obviously. But he's holding me, rubbing my back and rocking me gently from side to side, like he cares. And there's saying he's bi and pretending to stay friends with me to get me to trust him until he yanks it all out from under me... and there's running to find me after I yell at him, and then holding me and hugging me and worrying about me when he sees me collapse.

Scott and I were in the same group for our last Drama assessment in Year 9. Much as I love him, he's not that good an actor. But he is that good a friend.

And I do love him.

So I let myself cry against his shoulder, and I stop fighting his arms around me. I just bury my face in the cheap synthetic fabric of his blazer, and cling to him like a koala until the bell erupts for morning registration.

Scott pulls away and rests his forehead against mine. "Are you gonna be OK for class? I'm sure Mr Mayes will understand if I say you're not well."

I shake my head. "Don't tell Mr Mayes anything about this," I say, pulling away. "He's not to know a thing. I'm serious. Don't tell him, and don't tell any of the other teachers, either. Not a word."

"About any of this?" Scott whispers, "Not even about... what Chris did?"

There's that explosion again, like I'm throwing my head back and bashing it against the bricks. A bright flash of white in front of my eyes, and then... and then--

"Gordon?" Scott says, "You're shaking. Gordon?" He squeezes my shoulder, and I stare at his hand.

"I'm fine," I say, "And, no. I'm not gonna tell school anything. They don't need to know. I just want to get on with... getting back at Chris. And then I want to get on with my life."

Scott chews his lip, but he nods. "OK," he says, picking up my notebook and hugging it to his chest. "If you're sure. Come with me to the loos quickly, so you can splash some cold water on your face before form-time."

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

"All right, Gordon?" Chris says, nodding at me and smirking as Scott and I walk through the form-room door, "What brings you here?" He snorts with laughter.

"Ignore him," Scott says, dragging me over to my seat by the sleeve of my blazer, "Come and sit with us. We'll look after you." He pulls out a chair at the table he shares with Lena and Stef, and smiles at me encouragingly.

Stef passes me my rucksack. "You, uh, left this in the corridor earlier," he says. He glances across the classroom, and then lowers his voice. "OK, so what you were saying about..." He nods at my notebook. "Soph thinks it's a decent idea. The second one, not the... Full Monty."

I stifle a laugh against the heel of my hand. "I mean, I'm sure that would be almost as scary, if I took off all my--"

Stef raises his eyebrows, and purses his lips. "Are you gonna be serious about this?"

"Mm-hmm," I say, pressing my right hand against the notebook and holding my left in the air. "I do solemnly swear... not to be sarky. And I know this sounds really sarky, but... I mean... You know what this notebook means to me."

"OK." Stef nods. "So. Soph says it could work, and Char says we can use the... venue. When... When do you think it would be... a good time?"

Lena glares at him, and then at me. "It's never gonna be a good time, guys," she hisses, "This is such a fucked-up plan."

"This is such a fucked-up situation," I reply, shrugging, "I think a fucked-up plan complements it rather well, don't you?" I click my fingers. "Oh, no, wait. Of course you don't. You're a Pacifist, or whatever."

"Well, not quite," Lena replies, fiddling with the end of her plait, "Sometimes you have to make hard choices, you know? Sometimes there's no other option--"

I beam. "Ah, now you're getting it!" I turn to Stef. "I'm not doing anything this evening," I say, "I think if we leave it too long, the whole idea of "fixing what went wrong" will, uh... you know. Not work. It's got to happen pretty soon, or--"

The door of the form-room clunks open, and Mr Mayes walks in, ring-binder in hand. "Good morning, Year Ten!" he says, taking off his jacket and hanging it over the back of his chair as the classroom falls silent, "I hope you're all looking forward to today's lessons. We're starting a new unit of Physics!"

I lean forward and bump my forehead against the table in front of me until Scott grabs my collar and pulls me upright. "Just let me die," I groan.

"Gordon, have you got something to share with the class?" Mr Mayes says, sitting down and resting his elbows on his desk.

"No, Sir," I mumble, fiddling with the elastic closure on my notebook, "Sorry, Sir."

"Well, then, please try to stay alive long enough for me to take the register, won't you? And then we'll see if you can survive Physics."