My Story, 5

Next day, I went back to school and everything had changed; everyone was nice to me. Yeah, rite! There was no change at all. Friday was as horrible and as miserable as every other day had been. God! I hated that place. I could so understand those kids who went crazy and blew everyone away. They were lucky that I didn’t have a gun handy.

Saturday morning we went into town to do some shopping – not Tiroroa, the real town – Nelson. It was a 45 minute drive away. On the way in, my mother had one of her dumbest ideas ever.

“Virgil, Honey, I’ve been thinking.”

‘There’s a change.’

“While we’re in town, would you like to have your hair cut off?”

“What?? No way! Why don’t you cut yours off?”

“Hold on. Don’t be too hasty. I’m not the one with a problem, you are. Maybe the kids will stop picking on you if you don’t look so different to everybody else.”

“Mum, there is no way in hell that I’m going to cut my hair just to make those jerks happy. It wouldn’t make any difference anyway. They’ve all decided that they hate me and I hate them too. I fucking hate the lot of them. It’s my hair, I like it and I’m keeping it. Fuck ‘em!”

“You go, Virgil!” Gran was on my side for once. “You keep your hair. Look what happened to Sampson when his came off.”

Okay, that was just weird, but she meant well.

Okay, okay! Keep your hair on!”

“Ha, ha, very funny.”

“It was just a thought. Tell me if you change your mind.”

“I won’t.”

“You won’t tell me or you won’t change your mind?”

“Just drive, Mum.”

We spent a great morning in Nelson. It’s a really cool little city and very geared to the tourist traffic.. (“Sun, sand and surf in Sunny Nelsun”) The open-air markets were cool. They were full of over-priced arty-farty stuff and they were way too crowded, but it was a fun place to spend an hour or two. There was lots of colour, lots of life and hundreds of interesting people. I could fit right in there.

There was some good food too. I love vegetarian falafels. Interesting though, New Zealand doesn’t really have any ethnic foods, apart from Hangis, and they’re disgusting. They taste like the dirt they’re cooked in.

Anyway, it was a good morning, but then we had to get back in the car and return to Hell in the Valley. I did wish that we could live in sunny Nelson and never go back to bloody Tiroroa again, but that was not going to happen, apparently.

We arrived back at home, I carried some groceries inside and then I made myself useful in the best way. I let Jimmy off and we disappeared down to the river. Hopefully, the housework would all be finished by the time we returned.

He was down at the river. He turned up there not long after we did.

“Fuck off, Stafford!”

“Nice. Way to make friends, Virgin.”

“Friends? Not bloody likely! You can fuck off, I don’t want to know you.”

“Well, sorry, but it looks like you’re going to.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’re going out tonight, on a date.”

“A date? With you? The hell we are! I’d rather eat shit.”

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary. We’re going to De Larnos’; it’s a very trendy fancy sea-food restaurant on the waterfront in Nelson.”

“You think? I am going absolutely nowhere with you, not tonight and not any night. I hate your guts and I wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire.”

“Whoah! When you decide that you don’t like someone, you don’t mess around do you?”

“Why the fuck should I? My life at school is pure hell, thanks to you. If I had a gun, you’d be the first one dead.”

“I’m pleased you haven’t then. Look, we’re just going to have to make the most of it and we are going out. My father and your mother are going for a meal and we’re going with them. He’s at your place now and they sent me down here to tell you that.”

“Like fuck we are! I’ll slit my wrists before that happens.”

“Bit extreme, don’t you think? I’m starting to think that you really don’t like me at all.”

“Well, duh! You’ve got one brain-cell working then.”

“I’m not that thrilled about this either, but there’s not a lot we can do about it. We might be seeing a lot of each other. We could start again. How about it? Do you want to have another swim?”

“You must be fucking joking! You had your chance, you blew it. Fuck off, Stafford.”

“All right, I will then! I’ve said what they told me to. See you tonight, sweetie. Wear your hair out, I love people looking at me like I’m in a freak-show.”

He fucked off.

Damm! What did my mother think she was doing? If this was her idea of helping me, well it was dumb. The Staffords! Father and son together. I’ll take it back what I said about her thinking that I should cut my hair off was her dumbest idea ever. That didn’t even compare to this one! A date, on a Saturday night, with the Staffords! No fucking way.

I waited for half an hour, fuming on the riverbank, to give those pricks time to get out of my house, and then I went home to have a chat to my mother about this idea of hers.

Remember what I said about no-one ever beating my mother in a battle? We went out, with the Staffords, on Saturday night. Dammit!

They came to pick us up at 6.30pm. They didn’t come to the door, just parked in the driveway and tooted. Charming.

Mum herded me out to the car. I tried, but failed, to get into the front seat next to the driver. So I had to sit in the back, with the son. I’d rather have sat with the father. I didn’t like him, but I hated the son even more.

I got into the back seat and slammed the door. Joel greeted me with a big smile.

“Hi Virgil! All set for a big night out are you?”

“Shut up.”

He was looking good, of course. He was a good-looking guy. He had on new-looking, dark blue jeans and an electric-blue long-sleeved and buttoned-down shiny new shirt. His dark-blond hair was carefully styled and he looked all fresh and clean and very lickable. Damm. If there was any justice, he should be as ugly as sin, but he wasn’t, he looked good. Smelled good too. I still hated him. I was never going to stop hating him.

In honour of the occasion, I was dressed in black from head to toe. Everything was black, even the ribbon tying my hair back. Yes, I had my hair tied, just in case he really did prefer it out. I was determined not to enjoy this outing, and neither would anyone else if I could help it. How could she do this to me?

On the drive into town, the adults talked quietly in the front and pretty much ignored us in the back, which suited me fine. Stafford junior didn’t ignore though, unfortunately. He chattered away like we were old friends and he was on his best behavior – friendly, charming, and, yes, funny too. I studied the darkness outside my window and tried to ignore him. It was not easy.

You know the dammdest thing? Even after what he’d done to me, even though I tried my best to hate him – I didn’t really. I was attracted to the creep. Fuckit! I was so dumb.

I keep saying it, but he was good-looking, very good-looking. He was freaking gorgeous! To look at, he was everything that a young gayboy could want in a boyfriend.

Every time I thought about his naked body and what we did, down in the river that day, (and I couldn’t stop thinking about it), I got an instant hard-on. Told you that I was dumb.

There’s an insect – the praying mantis, I think. Or maybe it’s a spider. Anyway, after they’ve mated, the female bites the male’s head off and kills him. Not a bad idea really. Only trouble is, you’d only get to mate once, but at least you’d get to do it – once.

So, we arrived back in town, for the second time that day. I liked this place, it was almost a city. Why, oh why did we have to live in Tiro-bloody-roa?

This time, we travelled around the waterfront at Tahunanui, (that means a ‘big Tahuna’, whatever that is). Anyway, it was way cool; just beautiful actually. Night was drawing in, but the fading sunset and the lights of the city and the traffic were enough so that you could see the scene.

The water in the bay was dead flat and the lights reflected off it. It’s a picture-postcard scene; you see it on calendars sometimes. There’s a small, pine-tree covered, island just a few meters offshore and at the entrance to the port. I don’t know what it’s called. Near the island, there’s a big rock, roughly shaped like an arrow-head and sticking up out of the water. I know what that’s called, it’s the Fifeshire Rock.

It got its name from an immigrant ship, the Fifeshire, that brought a load of immigrants out in the colonial days. Apparently, they sailed all the way here from Scotland, halfway around the world, came in here, crashed into the rock and sunk. Bugger! That would really make your day, wouldn’t it? I don’t know if anyone was drowned; probably not, they could just about step ashore from there. I could swim around it easy – on a good day anyway. The rock had a big hole in the side of it too; maybe that was where the boat banged into it?

Along the waterfront, the calm sea was on one side of us and the cliffs and flash houses on the other. This was millionaire territory with their million-dollar views. Us peasants could never afford to live there. A lot of them are just holiday homes too; some people have got far too much money. (Not us though).

Then, there was a sprinkling of high-rise apartments, night-clubs and restaurants, boat-houses and other buildings. Some of them were hanging off the side of the road and built out over the water. Very cool. Nelson has got to be the most beautiful city in New Zealand, and that’s saying a lot!

We parked on the left, off the road and sat looking out over the water. De Larnos’ poncy fish-restaurant was next to us –a two-storey, glass-walled building, all lit-up and with wide balconies running all around it. A lot of the tables were set up outdoors. It was on its own pier, built out over the water.

I was glad that I wasn’t paying for this meal. The place would cost a fortune! I was still determined that I wasn’t going to enjoy this evening, but, whatever – it was a great place.

The parents got out of the car and lit cigarettes. They stood on the sidewalk, leaning on the safety-rails by the water’s edge, like they were on a cruise-ship or something. I was shocked! I mean, come on – the man is a bloody physical-education teacher and he was standing there smoking. What a great example he was. I knew he was a dork.

I went to get out of the car, to stretch my legs and get away from Stafford, but he stopped me by grabbing my arm. I shrugged him off.

“Don’t touch me, Creep!”

“Sorry! Just wait a minute will you? Virgil, I’ve been thinking.”

“Wow!”

“Shut up. No, I’ve been thinking that you’re getting a lot of stick at school. That’s not good. I’m going to help you from now on – I’ll put a stop to it.”

He what?? Damm! Decision time. Do you like making decisions? I don’t, I hate it. When there’s a chance that you might get it wrong, it’s much easier to do nothing; but sometimes you can’t. This looked like one of those times. What was I supposed to do? Should I trust him and accept help, or should I turn my back on him and keep on trying to hate the Gorgeous Prick?

So – what did I do? I’ll tell you next time, if I’m back. ‘Bye.

(Cliff-hangers are a bugger aren’t they?)