‘What do you mean?’ Bee felt no less alarmed than before at such a statement.
At that moment, Miss Waters called for silence and so Ann Marie leaned across, keeping down, continuing in a low whisper, ‘The whole place went silent, like he was some kind of…’
‘That means you, Ann Marie. Trying to hide is not only pointless but rather rude.’ The teacher clapped her hands together, ‘Good morning to you all. You! Swallow that gum or put it in the bin. Good morning to you all, I hope you had a pleasant summer and enjoyed some fresh air and not too much television or whatever other electronic pleasures you young people like to pursue.’
Someone at the back of the class squeaked a laugh and the teacher broke from her welcome back speech, sternly scanning innocent young faces, clueless as to what was so funny. Her eyes lingered on a mature looking girl whose general appearance was the embodiment of broken school rules. The girl, Char Williams, nonchalantly arched a plucked eyebrow.
Miss Waters finished glaring and continued, ‘As I was saying, I hope you had a pleasant holiday. But today the holiday ends. Today is the day your schooling becomes more serious. Yes, guys. But you needn’t look so frightened! Year nine is a wonderful opportunity, a chance to blossom, to stop playing at study and practice with a goal in mind. This year you will make your subject choices, and whether you accept the fact or not, this is an important time for you all, with decisions to make that may influence the rest of your lives.’
‘But I’m only twelve,’ muttered a girlish looking specimen, obviously still clutching at childhood.
She made for blunt contrast with Char who was developed far into womanhood; a loud and derisive tut escaped her painted lips. The other girl rolled her eyes in response, but not so anyone who might be watching from behind – so that Char – could see. Conventional pigtails and fluffy pink pencil cases were no match for the rebellion of hair dye and cigarettes.
‘Twelve? Are you in the wrong class?’ The teacher was surprised.
‘I’ve been moved up a year, Miss.’
‘Then the responsibility is equally on you as anyone else, dear. But none of you should view this year as something so mountainous it must simply be overcome at any cost. I want you to view it more as a thing to embrace, your chance to finally do what YOU want. It will be your chance to shine, if you like. Okay? Good. I will talk a little more on that subject later. I want to talk about something else briefly.
‘We have a new student starting today and the good news is that he has been assigned to this tutor group. I am sure we all know to whom I am referring, and we are all aware that the world, rightly or wrongly, affords him special status. Well not in my class. You will treat him as you would any other pupil, with kindness and respect, and anyone not doing so will be answerable to Mister Baxter. You are good-hearted children, I know you are, and I know that I did not need to say anything to ensure a proper welcome for Tuan. But I have said it and let that be fair warning to you all. Okay. Back to other things.’
The teacher proceeded to remind her class of the school rules regarding dress and general appearance, lecturing on the importance of punctuality and the need to produce quality homework from extra study. To the children it seemed that nothing was to be tolerated anymore, and a collective sense of gloom descended over them, a fear that the time had truly arrived when they should pull up their socks and finally take responsibility for themselves. The pig-tailed girl accelerated for her academic prowess with no thought for her lagging maturity looked worried, while in contrast, the thin eyebrows of her opposite number remained resolutely unmoved, she yawned and dropped her head onto her arms. The grand lecture was a standard speech, given last year and the year before, shaped to suit the needs of the moment.
The teacher moved on to encourage discussion about holiday activities, but at that moment Mister Baxter and Tuan arrived.
‘Good morning, Miss Waters,’ he said, poking his head through the partially open door, ‘I have your new student for you.’
‘Wonderful.’ She smiled broadly, her excitement causing Char to shake her head in disgust.
Baxter opened the door to its fullest and allowed Tuan to enter. It had been discussed many times by Giles, the Head, teaching staff and Parents Association, that the boy should not be given any special status, all agreeing that it would ultimately prove detrimental to both him and other students if any form of discrimination – positive or otherwise – were permitted. But it was impossible not to be swept along by the thrill of it all. He was tall and wild looking, and most people felt exhilarated just being near him. Fear him or adore him, the desire to be closer was almost irresistible.
Tuan was a breathtaking individual, and the very fact of his existence and subsequent enrolment in the school meant that not embracing exclusivity was impractical. The uniqueness of the boy could no more be ignored than a halo on the head of a newborn baby, golden or otherwise. Baxter knew it and thought that while it smacked of elitism, to treat a tiger like a domestic cat would be a terrible mistake. Privately, he intended to make the boy’s time at the school special, to be forever remembered as the best days of his life.
‘Come in, Tuan. Come in.’ Miss Waters looked across at the new boy and stood up, her small stature emphasised by his greater size, more precisely by the combination of youth and size. ‘Children, I want you to meet your new classmate, Tuan. Tuan, if you could find yourself a seat. Thank you.’
The children watched transfixed as Tuan moved, his black hair so dark it seemed to absorb light, a mighty and exotic presence filling the plain classroom. He kept his eyes averted from all but Bee and returned her smile with the smallest of winks.
‘We were about to talk about holidays but I think that can now wait. I’d like to begin running through the various activities on offer this year, instead. Yes, that’s right, Tuan, there’s a space at the back next to Char. Put your jacket on the back of your chair and take out your pencil case, you’ll need to write some things down. Lessons begin in fifteen minutes so we’d better get on.’ Miss Waters took a few confident steps towards him. ‘You have a timetable, do you?’
‘I thought you had it, Miss Waters,’ Baxter interjected on his behalf.
‘Do I? Okay, not to worry, I’ll check. That’s it. Sit down, good boy. Char, take your bag off the chair so he can sit. Thank you very much, dear. And thank you Mister Baxter.’ The teacher returned to her desk as the Head retreated and closed the door.
Char Williams sat bolt upright and then leaned slightly away. She had risen from her slumped posture when Tuan first came in but now he was so close she appeared decidedly uncomfortable. She knitted the two too thin arched lines that made up her eyebrows and screwed up her nose in an age-old gesture of repulsion. Tuan smiled at her as he sat down, running an appreciative look over her womanly form. Her face instantly became a stony blank. She raised one side of her red upper lip and slowly shook her head. You’re disgusting to me is what it said. Her middle finger said the rest.
At fourteen going on twenty, Char Williams was done with school; she wanted a job. Life so far had been tough, tougher than for many of the girls with whom she was forced to spend her days. During recess she mixed mostly with Year eleven girls, of whom one or two could have represented the school had bullying been an official sport. But they didn’t bully Char. They liked her, encouraged her in the things she wanted to do and flattered her about her appearance. They protected her from the icy looks and reproachful remarks that would have otherwise been delivered by girls who would have been horrified to discover that they, too, were bullies. And for herself, Char accepted the label of bully because it meant she fitted in somewhere amongst the hundreds of students that made up the judgmental rabble of the school.
*
Morning registration over, students filed out and went off to the very first lesson of the academic year. Tuan was issued with the same map the Year sevens had been given the day before, on their first day, and was instructed to go to the Langua
ge Block. Bee had music, which was held at the far end of the school, just about as far from Languages as it was possible to be. Tuan wandered along to class without company.
As students dispersed, Char headed off alone in another direction altogether, and as she moved away she called to Tuan.
‘Oi! Don’t bite anyone. I’ll bring you in a ball of string tomorrow, you can play with it.’ She laughed. ‘Twat.’
‘Where are you going?’ he asked.
‘What the fuck is it to you?’
‘Nothing. It’s just you don’t seem to be going anywhere that anyone else is.’
‘Too right. I’m off, it’s my birthday and I’m celebrating.’
‘Oh, I see. Well… happy birthday.’ He smiled awkwardly.
‘Got me a present? A scratch-post, some kitty-litter?’
He ignored her comments, ‘Where will you go?’
‘Home, you freak. Where do you think? Up a fuckin’ tree?’
‘Home? But school’s only just started.’
‘Really? Thanks for that, Dad. Don’t know what I did before you came along. Prick.’
‘Won’t someone notice?’
‘Like who gives a?’
‘I don’t know, I was just saying, that’s all.’
She sneered, shook her head disdainfully, called out ‘Meow!’ and skulked away. Not entirely comfortable with the exchange she added, ‘Cat’s can lick their balls, you know, that’s all they do, lick, lick, lick.’ She let her tongue roam suggestively and then cackled.
*
Lingering thoughts of Char’s full breasts faded once lessons commenced. French proved fairly interesting and before long Tuan found himself moving on from the intricacy of French grammar to discussing the sandstone of South Devon in Geography. The morning was racing by, and before he knew what was happening the building seemed to spit him out into the bright sunshine of morning break.
Bee was waiting for him. ‘How are you getting on? I can’t believe we haven’t been in one single class together.’
‘We’ve only had two.’
‘How has it been?’
‘Fine. How are you getting on? Recovered from this morning?’
‘This morning?’
‘Running late.’
‘Oh, don’t remind me. What a start to the day that was. I really am sorry that I wasn’t there for you this morning. Really, I feel terrible about it.’
‘Don’t. And stop apologising. I am a big boy, I can look after myself.’
‘Speaking of looking after yourself, I saw you talking with Char Williams earlier.’
‘You did?’
‘I left my coat, and came back for it, and you were having an exchange of some sort.’
‘Oh, that.’
‘Yes that. She’s trouble, Tuan. You shouldn’t get involved.’
‘Involved?’ he laughed, ‘I’d hardly call having insults hurled at me involved.’
‘I’m just saying. That’s all. She’s always in trouble for bunking off. Is that what she was doing?’ Bee rummaged in her bag and took out two apples, ‘Want one?’
Tuan took the proffered fruit and they sat down on a bench. He ignored the two young girls staring at him, mouths gaping, desperate to see those teeth bite that apple.
‘What have you got next, Bee?’
‘Art.’
‘Me too,’ he smiled. ‘We might be together.’ Tuan looked about him, inspecting the schoolyard and buildings, causing the girls to scamper away, ‘You know, I think it’s going to be fine, Bee. The school is really nice.’
Nearby, a group of Year eleven boys resumed their earlier, challenging, stare.
‘Just ignore them. They’re tossers,’ Bee said, trying to sound casual.
‘I am ignoring them. They don’t worry me, Bee, so don’t let them worry you.’ Tuan bit into the apple.
‘They don’t. It’s just I want it to be nice for you here, for you to fit in and be happy.’
‘I am happy. And I don’t care about the likes of them.’
‘You know one of them is Char’s brother, don’t you?’
‘How could I know that? And does it matter?’
‘Depends.’ Bee started her own apple.
He sighed, ‘Let’s talk about something else.’
‘Okay. Come with me. I’ll introduce you to some of my mates. They are so excited about meeting you. They won’t shut up about it. Life was pretty tough being your friend before you came here. I think it’s going to get even worse!’
*
The next day began in much the same way as the first, but Bee made sure she arrived at school with Tuan, ensuring she caught the same bus despite the stop being a reasonably long walk from her house. The battle through the press was almost identical to the day before, except Bee thought she saw Ian Boyce hiding amongst the throng.
The days that followed saw little change, although as the weeks wore on the silence Tuan encountered each morning on the school side of the gate lessened as an inevitable nonchalance developed. In time, the Year eleven boys limited themselves to casting aggressive stares only when they happened to pass by, rather than purposefully seeking him out as they had at first. Of the group, Char’s brother, Kai, always presented the biggest threat. His dislike of Tuan seemed far in excess of anything felt by his peers. Had he more influence within the group then Tuan’s daily life would have been difficult. As it was, the confident new boy barely noticed.
Others were drawn to Tuan more positively, and time made certain that for the majority, Tuan’s differences drifted into irrelevance. Very few besides the Year eleven boys clutched at old feelings. Even Char found room in her heart to throw Tuan less and less reproachful looks, until eventually the beginnings of something like friendship stirred between them. And for them both this represented a move forwards, of finding friendship solely for themselves independent of anyone else.
All was rosy, except Tuan found the Year nine curricula too easy. For whatever reason, he excelled in most subjects, all signs of his delayed academic beginnings vanished. Within months, he had moved up a year. The girls in his new tutor group were delighted. For Bee and Char, it was only heartfelt dismay.
Despite the new level of work he continued to race ahead.
*
‘I’m proud of you, my boy. It’s no easy thing doing so well in that sort of school, you know. I would have much preferred you attended my old school, but there we are. What do I know, eh? You’ve done us both proud!’
Tuan shrugged off the compliment.
The two were walking away from a meeting with Baxter, a high-energy discussion that revealed Tuan to be the highest achieving pupil in the school, possibly of all time. Giles was so puffed up with pride he could barely order his words.
‘Wonderful news. Not unexpected but wonderful news, nevertheless.’
Tuan shrugged again, clearly preferring for the wonderful news to remain within the confines of the meeting and not to make too much of it.
‘My mother would have been proud of you. You have achieved what I never could. In her eyes, I was never quite good enough at anything. She didn’t blame other people; I’ll give her that. Not the school or University, no one except me. And she wasn’t wrong, of course. I have always had to try harder than other people. But you, you are a natural, lad. I am proud.’
Tuan said nothing. Eventually, and unusually, Giles read his mood and changed the subject. ‘And how’s that girl of yours, Chablis? Still keen?’
‘Char, Dad. And she’s not my girl. She’s just a friend and barely that.’
‘And Bee? A far nicer young woman I think than Chablis, although a bit of a brat way back when. Delightful now, of course.’
‘Char. And don’t call Bee a brat. You’re not exactly perfect.’
‘Quite so. Quite so.’ Giles suddenly stopped for a moment to catch his breath.
‘You okay, Dad?’ Giles had aged in the short time Tuan had been living with him, looking drawn where once his face had
been round and full.
‘Of course. Tired, my boy, but nothing more.’ He smiled.
They had been told that for now, Tuan would remain in his new Year ten group, returning to school in September as a Year eleven. It gave very little time to prepare for his final exams but no one felt it was too much. With the benefit of hindsight Baxter declared that Tuan should have started in a more appropriate form in the first place, given his obvious maturity. But his age was declared as thirteen at the commencement of the academic year, and so Year nine was the only offer anyone felt able to make for an untested child. Most continued to doubt his age, for not only did he have a distinctly more mature appearance than his peers, he had the aptitude and focus of a fully-fledged adult.
Giles was adamant. Tuan’s age could not be disputed. Records from when he first arrived stated plainly that he was ten, something Tuan himself had independently corroborated. At the time, even Marlene the dentist agreed that the margin of error was probably no more than a few years. By comparison, the gap now, however, seemed enormous. Tuan had been born at the very beginning of the durian season, the season starting in June which always marked a change in atmosphere on the island as the huge pungent fruits were feasted on for a full three months. It was a time that for most brought endless pleasure, and for the sensitive few, only the nuisance of a seemingly endless stink. And so exactly three years ago to the day that he left Baxter’s office, high on his son’s success, Giles had picked his own mother’s June birthday as a day for Tuan to celebrate his own birth. This year, the good news from Baxter offered the chance of a double celebration.
‘What time is the table booked for, Tuan?’
‘Not ‘til six. We can go a bit earlier if you like, the pub will be open.’
‘Part of me thinks that perhaps I should not be coming at all, dear boy.’
‘Not coming? To celebrate my birthday? Dad! Why on earth would you think that?’
‘It’s been rather a long time since I saw Felix, and the others, of course. I think you may have a more relaxing time if I left you to it.’