It was a scenario Tommy had sought to avoid, since forever. Now, to his dismay, it was upon him. As he turned away from his locker the school bully was standing behind him.
Tommy had always thought he had the best location for a locker that you could hope for. It was directly under intensely bright fluro-lights. They lit up the area so clearly that everyone could see you. It was obviously not a hiding place. But it was also a place where no one could do anything to you without dozens of witnesses. Other parts of the locker wall were more shadowed. But not here.
As he looked up at Marty, the five centimetres of height difference between the boys seemed like the five stories of Tommy’s apartment block. The smell of Marty’s breath was like the alley behind Tommy’s place. Tommy usually liked coming to school to get away from the dingy home that his mum and he shared. But not today. Not now at least.
Even though they were in the same year group and were amongst the oldest boys in the school, Marty’s comparative size made him a terrifying figure for everyone who attended the place. Tommy included.
A Marvel comic book tragic, Tommy had at times looked over the classroom to Marty and thought, ‘If only he used his super-power for good instead of evil’. He knew that beating up other kids was not really a super-power, but it seemed like super-strength that none could withstand.
Marty Miller – the name alone sent spinal cords shivering all over the high school campus. That angry kid who lives with his mother and younger brother in the “rough end of town”. The bully who doesn’t go a week without getting into a fight with someone. To have him actually hovering over you was often enough to cause fluid to leave one part of the anatomy or another. Despite Tommy’s fear, there was also a small sense of relief when he realised he was containing all such liquid. No tears. And as far as he could tell, nothing lower down.
In an unsuccessful attempt at a confident greeting, all Tommy could think to say was “Hi Marty”.
Marty looked at him. Tommy noticed the narrow slits that held the smallest glimpse of eyes. The frown and tight lips generated gut-wrenching fear. There was a pause. Tommy had no idea what was coming next, but every possible scenario going through his mind was ugly.
Finally, Marty spoke.
“I think this is yours.”
He handed Tommy a wallet. It was Tommy’s. He must have dropped it without knowing.
As Tommy was handed the wallet, Marty muttered. ‘Bloody fluro lights hurt my eyes.”
Before Tommy could say a word, Marty had turned and walked away.
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