My Story, 10 (final)

Next morning, in the cold light of day, I was having second thoughts, wasn’t I? It was easy enough to get excited about this plan when Dennis was there, but now he wasn’t.

What if it didn’t work? It worked for him, but he was who he was and I was who I was. Could I really pull this off? What if it finished with me getting beaten-up or something?

No. That was not going to happen. Denise would be with me and, to hell with them anyway! The Pricks already hated me, how could it get any worse than it was?

But, once I ‘came out’, like we were planning, there’d be no going back. I’d be the campy queen forever. Could I do that? Did it matter? Dennis might not be gay, but I was.

You know what? Fuck’em! I was not one of them and I never would be. I had no intentions of living around here any longer than I had to anyway. As soon as I could, I’d be out of there and, yeah – I really wanted to hit back and shut them down. Pricks!

We were going to do this.

Despite my resolution, I was still really nervous when I headed over to the school at my usual time. I wanted to, but I still wasn’t sure if I could go through with this. Hey! I was still just a kid, wasn’t I?

My heart was in my mouth and beating wildly as I walked into the school through the locker-room. I didn’t use my allocated locker, but still had to go through the room.


It all turned out to be much easier than I had expected, (and feared!). Denise was there, dithering around in her locker and giving everyone a running commentary on what she was looking for. She grinned and winked at me as I walked past. There were just a few other kids still in there, mostly girls. Why do girls take ten times as long to do anything?

Jillian Carew, a nasty baggage if ever there was one, blocked my way and looked me up and down with a sneer. “What’ve you done to your hair, you Little Faggot?”

(I hadn’t done much at all really – just tied it tighter and higher on my head than it usually was. It made for a huge ponytail.)

“Darling!” I squealed. (It was mostly nerves, but it worked anyway). “When I need fashion tips from a Front-Bum, I’ll be sure to come to you. However, there’s no time right now.”

A Front-Bum? Dunno where that came from, but it worked. A couple of the others burst out laughing and Carew went all red in the face. She stepped back, like she was in shock or something. I walked on, feeling like I was 10 feet tall.

“Burn!! Sweetheart!” Denise squealed as she came tripping after me. “Well done, my Little Virgin. Don’t let the Front-Bums grind you down!”

She linked arms with me and, laughing aloud, we burst together into the room for our first class. Everyone sat gawking at us, but no-one said a word.

“Where shall we sit today?” Denise camped it up. “Right here! In the middle where everyone can look and admire us.”

We settled down, together, in the centre of the room.

“Ohmigod! Just what we need, another one. Denise has had a baby!”

I turned and batted my eyes at Gregory Brown. “Are you my Daddy, Gwegowy?”

“Not bloody likely! Don’t talk to me, you little Queer.” He lost himself in his book.

(‘Hah! Easy!’) This was fun – most fun I’d had for weeks. Denise was so right. They could dish it out, but they couldn’t take it. Not in public anyway. Mind you, I’d still be worried about meeting any of them after dark. We’d just have to make sure that that didn’t happen.

The day went on and I was having a wonderful time. Right again, Denise. We made a great double-act and I was having fun. I even caught teachers grinning at us a couple of times.

One teacher wasn’t smiling though, she was scowling. My mum was obviously not impressed at all. We’d be talking about this. Ah, whatever! That’d be later and this was now.

I really think that I should be on a stage There was a real ham actor inside of me. Fun, fun, fun.

Mr. Stafford wasn’t smiling either, but he wasn’t scowling. I don’t think he knew what to make of the new me. After they got over the initial shock, some kids, mostly girls, were playing along with us and encouraging the show.

(That’s a funny word, ‘initial’. Three ‘I’s’, go figure! It doesn’t look right, but it is – I checked.)

After lunch, which I had at home, alone, we went out for sports. Well, most of us did. Denise didn’t; she was excused from all sports because she had a doctor’s certificate that said that she had to be. It was probably all a lot of rubbish, but the school couldn’t argue with a doctor.

So, Denise went to the library, and I went, with everyone else, to the sportsfield. I don’t know, it might’ve been for my benefit, but that day Mr. Stafford was trying something new. We weren’t playing football, or any other contact sport, instead, we were going for a cross-country run.

‘Cool. As long as no bugger trips me, I’ll be all right here.’

Distance running was the one sport that I was good at.

Mr. Stafford explained that we were to run down the main road through the village, across the bridge over the river and out to the old Forest Service Headquarters out on the back-road. Returning, we were to run around the road at the back of the village and back to school through the side-entrance.

We had to do some stretching and warm-up exercises, then lined up and he fired his starter’s pistol and everyone headed off. (Yeah, he was a bit of a ham too!) The accompanying teachers were in their cars. That’s not fair!

For a while, I was flapping along at the back with the most useless and disinterested runners, but I soon got tired of that. I decided, ‘Dammit! I’m going to run. I can do as good as any of this lot.’

For the first time in the day, I got serious and I started running as hard as I could, easily overtaking runner after runner. Nobody wanted to be overtaken by the queen, but I gave them no choice. I was determined and I was good at this.

I’d like to say that I won the race, but I didn’t. I came in a very creditable second though, close behind the winner and miles ahead of anyone else. Sheesh! You’d think that country kids would be fitter!

The winner was Joel. Well, he was bigger and stronger than I was and I couldn’t quite beat him. Shame that he wasn’t still hung-over from Saturday night, then I would’ve had him. Still, pretty good, I thought. A good result for a year 9 kid.

Mr. Stafford thought so too. He was delighted, he said. Mum was delighted too, so that got me off the hook over the rest of my behaviour that day. Well, almost.

We had a long talk about it that night. She was not convinced that it was the right thing to do, but she let it go. I would ‘just have to be very safety conscious, there’s some bad people out there.’

I actually never had any trouble in all the time that I kept the act up. I guess that it was a small town where everybody knew everybody, and I was lucky, very lucky.

And that was the beginning of my new life in Tiroroa. It was much better than what I’d had before. I guess it’s true what they say, “Laugh and the world laughs with you. Cry and you’ll cry alone.” Everybody loves a clown.

There’s nothing much to say about the rest of the year. Life went on – same old, same old. Joel was okay. We were never going to be close friends, but we weren’t enemies.

I did see a fair bit of him out of school. His father and my mother were an on-again, off-again item, they tended to blow a bit hot and cold. We all got together for meals and outings sometimes, and all went to Wellington for a weekend once.

Joel and I got on okay. He did hint, sometimes, about sex, but I wasn’t interested. He was a bit too much in love with drinking for my liking and, besides, it would almost be like incest, wouldn’t it? Him screwing me, while his father did the same to my mother? Eww!

So, the year rolled on. Weeks turned into months. Denise and I were a great double-act at school. Lotsa laughs! I was renamed ‘Lizzy’. Lizzy? It’s short for Elizabeth, the Virgin queen. That was me – almost a virgin and almost a queen.

Actually, Queen Elizabeth the 1st made a speech to the troops at Tilbury, when they were waiting for the Spanish Armada to invade – “I am come amongst you, as you see, at this time, not for my recreation and disport, but being resolved, in the midst and heat of the battle, to live and die amongst you all; to lay down for my God, and for my kingdom, and my people, my honour and my blood, even in the dust.

I know I have the body but of a weak and feeble woman; but I have the heart and stomach of a king, and of a King of England too, and think foul scorn that Parma or Spain, or any prince of Europe should DARE to invade the borders of my realm!”

Stirring stuff! I didn’t mind being named after Elizabeth. (You can keep the dresses, but I wouldn’t mind the jewels – that’d be nice!) One day, I’m going to travel. I’m going to Virginia in the US. That was named after her too.

Christmas came around and everything changed again – dammit! I was just getting comfortable with the way things were, but nothing stays the same. Denise finished school at the end of the year, and she wouldn’t be back

Dennis, not Denise, was going to a classy boarding school in Wellington. I was pleased for him, in a way. That brain of his needed more that Tiroroa High had to offer, but – bugg’rit! I was going to be alone again.

We were to spend almost two years in Tiroroa. That was the first year. I’ll tell you about the second one when I’m back – if I’m back. ‘Bye.

My Story, 9

After school, I went straight home, of course. Mum wasn’t there, she had a staff meeting, so that should keep her out of trouble for a couple of hours. Gran was well gone, she’d be halfway to the Coast by then.

I let Jimmy off the chain. He had it in a terrible tangle – dumb dog! I straightened up and turned around. Denise was standing there, looking at me.

“Umm. Hi Denise. Did you want something?”

“Hey Virgil. I want to talk to you. Can we go inside where everyone’s not looking at us? The show is over for today.”

What the hell did he mean by that? I looked back over at the school and, yes, there were people standing there, staring at us.

“You want to come inside? Yeah, let’s do that. Come on in.”

I led the way into the house. Jimmy was being a bit strange. He wasn’t dancing around my legs like he usually did, instead, he was just hanging around Denise. Something told me that Jimmy liked Denise. You can just tell sometimes.

In the kitchen, I flicked the electric kettle on.

“Can I get you a drink or something, Denise?” I think there’s beer in the fridge, if Gran hasn’t knicked it.”

“No. No beer. I never drink the vile stuff. A coffee would be good, thank you. Black and two sugars. Don’t call me Denise. My name is Dennis.”

Dennis, not Denise? What was going on here? He was like a different person.

“Okay, sure. Dennis it is then, but it’s been Denise all day at school today.”

“It has, but that was at school. I told you, the show’s over for today.”

“The show? So it was all an act then? The Denise thing, I mean.”

“Denise is a thing, isn’t she? Yes, of course it’s an act. The campy queen is my defence against the ignorant bullies. Now we have to find a defence for you as well.”

“For me?”

“Yes, for you. They’ve been giving you a hard time and making your life a misery. That’s got to stop and it’s going to, as soon as we figure out how to deal with it. Are you gay?”

“Am I gay? Do you know, that’s the first time anyone’s asked me that?

“That doesn’t surprise me at all. They’re all just a pack of small-town, small-minded hicks. So, are you? Not that it matters a lot, but it would be useful to know.”

“Well, yeah, I am, I think. Are you gay?”

‘Shit! I never thought I’d be asking Denise that!’

“No, I’m not gay. I did wonder for a while, but it turns out that I’m not.”

“You’re not?” (‘Damm. How many surprises can one day bring?’) “Why do you keep up the act then?”

“Because it works, and I’m kind-of type-cast now. Maybe you could try the same thing. Bat your eyes at them, squeal and flutter your hands around and they back-off at 100k’s an hour.”

“You really think that would work?”

“Sure it would. It works for me. We could have fun with this. Imagine 2 Denises in the same room! They’d be shivering in their shoes.”

“Fun? That’s something that’s been missing lately.”

“So I’m told. So, do you want to try it? Or we could try something else. You should know that if you come across as a campy queen, no-one’s going to want to be alone with you. You’ll never get a boyfriend around here.”

“I wouldn’t want to be friends with any of that lot anyway. You’re the first decent person I’ve met around here. Well, I guess Joel’s okay, sometimes.”

“Joel Stafford? No, he’s a lost cause. He’s a closet queer if ever there was one.”

“You think so? I have, sort of, wondered.”

“Of course he is, Daaarling!” He fluttered. “Denise knows!”

“I think you’re right. What the hell, let’s shock ‘em.”

“That’s the story. Illegitimus non carborundum.”

“Ille what? What does that mean?”

“It’s pig-latin, Kid. Illegitimus non carborundum means ‘don’t let the bastards grind you down’. Makes a good motto for life, I think.”

“I think you’re right. So, how do we go about this?”

“We just have to make you Fabulous, Darling!” Denise answered.

“Umm, Dennis? Can you not do that? When we’re alone, I’d rather talk to Dennis, not Denise.”

“You’ve got it, my friend. I get tired of Denise too.”

“Thanks. How do we make me fabulous?”

“Easy. You can’t wear make-up to school. That’s in the uniform code and they get really uptight about it. However, you can be as campy and outrageous as you like, the more the better. Flame throwers work best on a ‘high’ setting.

The school has signed up for an anti-discrimination policy, so they can’t shut you down. Just follow my lead, gush all over everybody and call them ‘Darling’. We’ll make a great double-act. It’ll be fun.”

“Yeah! It will be. Thanks for helping me. You’re a good guy. I hope we’re going to be friends.”

“I’m sure we will. But friends is as far as it goes – I’m not gay, remember. Now, where’s this drink? Then, I want to hear your life story; I want to know all about Virgil Cain. I think that you’d better feed man’s best friend here too. I think he’s hungry.”

“Jimmy’s always hungry. I think that he thinks he’s a teenager.”

I took care of business and then we sat and talked. I told him all about me and learned some things about him. His parents had split. Dad lived up north with his new family and Mum was in Fiji with her boyfriend. Dennis lived with his grandparents. His Granddad had the cartage and contracting business down the road, opposite the pub.

His grandparents didn’t know what to make of him, but they loved him anyway. No, he didn’t want to swap grandmothers with me – but my one sounded like fun. I supposed she was really, in a trippy kind of way.

It was hard to believe, but he was still only 13. He seemed like he was much older. Dennis really was a bright kid. Maybe he was a genius or something? People said that I was ‘old for my years’, I still felt like a kid next to him.

Mum arrived home, Dennis switched off and Denise came back. Well, I supposed that Mum was a teacher, so she was the enemy, kind-of. Denise didn’t do manual classes. Some girls did, but not her.

“Fingernails, Darling! All those nasty machines just waiting to munch them up! I don’t think so!”

Denise left shortly after. She had to go and dazzle the town, or something. Mum wanted to talk. She was concerned about my being around Denise. That would only make things worse for me, wouldn’t it?

“No Mum, it won’t. Trust me on this. Dennis is a good guy and he’s going to help me.”

“I just don’t see how.”

“Believe me, he’s not what he seems and he knows what he’s doing.”

“I hope you’re right, Honey. They do say that he’s very bright.”

“He is and he’s a good friend.”

“Well, I suppose that you need all the friends you can get. How was Joel today?”

“Okay, I guess. I didn’t see much of him.”

We had dinner at the pub that night. We often did something like that when Gran left on her travels. Funny really, Mum and Gran do get on well together, but I think she likes to feel free of her mother sometimes.

I went to bed that night much happier than I’d been. It seemed that I had the most unlikely allies popping up all over the place.

My Story, 8

Monday morning came around all too soon, and I dragged myself back to school for another day in hell. By now, I had the routine sorted and I arrived at exactly the time when they were going in to their classes.

I didn’t use the locker room any more, just carried my books and stuff home, it was only a few meters more.

I didn’t have much hope, but, maybe things would be better? Joel had said that he was going to help me, but would he? Probably not after that Saturday night. I really had to learn to keep my big mouth shut. Could I? Probably not.

I went into the classroom and sat in my usual place, alone and in front of the teacher. Then, incredible things happened and my life changed again. The door crashed open and the most amazing person burst into the room. Talk about your grand entrances! Every head turned and every eye in the place was focused on him.

“Hello, Daarlings!” He shouted. “I know you missed me! You can stop crying now – I’m baaack!”

Ohmigod! Who, or what, was this? I’d never seen anything like it. He was in a school uniform, of course – well, you had to, but it was like no other uniform.

His sneakers were more beige than brown and he had no socks on that I could see. Most kids’ shorts were long-legged and baggy, mine were too, but not his. His blue shorts were really short, really, really short, and they were so tight that they looked like they’d been painted on. He had a huge bulge in his crotch, maybe that was where his socks were?

His gleaming-white school shirt, by contrast, was way too big – about 6 sizes too big, and it billowed around him like a cloud. His eyebrows were black, but his medium-length hair was an impossible brassy-blond colour.

He wore glasses, amazing glasses. They were big and round and covered half of his face and the frames were fluorescent pink! Ohmigod again.

The book-bag slung over his shoulder was a hodge-podge of garish colours and, I wasn’t sure, but I thought that his fingernails were painted. It was hard to tell, they never stayed still. His hands flapped around in the air as he flounced around the room, greeting people by name.

Ever seen anyone flounce? That’s what he did – bigtime! He made a full circuit around the room and then stopped in front of me.

“And what have we here?” he squealed. “Oh, Sweetheart! Look at you – you’re gorgeous! Oh, be still my heart. That settles that then, we shall sit here today, in front of teacher.”

He planted himself in the seat next to me and smiled at the teacher.

“Hello, Miss Simons. Did you miss me?”

“I’m not sure if we missed you, Denise, but it was certainly quieter around here. Did you have a good holiday?”

“Oh, yes! It was fabulous! Fiji is divine and, look at my suntan! I’m even more beautiful now.”

“Beautful, is it? And what have you done to your hair now?”

“It’s sun-bleached, Darling.”

”Sun-bleached? Bottle-bleached, more likely. Okay, Denise, you’ve returned. Can we settle down and get to work now?”

“But of course! You teach and we shall soak up your pearls of wisdom. That’s why we’re here!”

“Sometimes I wonder. Okay, Class, page 23 please.”

So this was Denise. Denise? That was a girl’s name, wasn’t it? I wasn’t sure what this person was, but he was no girl. What on earth was he? Where had I heard that name before? Oh, yeah. On my first day here, those bitch girls said that I’d be a playmate for Denise. So, THIS was Denise. Wow.

He, she? It? Did settle down and the lesson started. Turns out, Denise was actually a very good scholar, easily the brightest kid in the school, which was probably why the teachers let him get away with the outrageous behaviour. I should be so bright.

We broke for recess and he was up and gone. “Later Darlings. Time to catch-up on the news! Love the hair by the way.”

He said that last to me, of course, and then he was gone – flounced out of the room. I stood shaking my head.

“Now you’ve met the Denise.” One of those self-same bitches said to me. “What do you think?”

“Think? Dammed if I know.”

“Yeah. Denise is something else, isn’t she?”

He, or she, certainly was.

I talked to Joel during the recess. He actually approached me first and, with a sheepish grin, said, “How’s it, Virgil? I hear that the fabulous Denise has returned and declared undying love for you already.”

“Hey Joel. I’ve met the Denise. I don’t know what to make of him.”

“No-one does. Don’t underestimate him, he’s very bright. If he wants to be your friend, well, do it. He’d be a better friend than an enemy.”

“Wouldn’t anyone? How about us, are we going to be friends?”

“Sure we are, if you want to. I had a good time Saturday night, I think. I don’t really remember much about it. I was a bit wasted wasn’t I?”

“Yeah, you could say that. I had a good night too. It was mostly good, except for when we argued again.”

“Argued? Did we? I wasn’t going to do that. Well, it’s over now, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it’s over. Thanks.”

“Cool. I’ve gotta go, Carol’s batting her eyes at me. Later, Virgin.”

“Yeah. Laters.”

I returned to my book. It was a good way of avoiding the eyes and I could, almost, forget where I was. Amazingly, no-one else spoke to me, or, as they usually did, at me. I didn’t think about it at the time, but something had changed.

I would’ve been happy if they all just ignored me. I could handle that.

When I went home for lunch, there was nothing cooking and Gran was busy packing up the house-truck.

“Feed yourself, Virgil, I’m busy. I should be on the road by now.”

“Okay. Where are you off to now?”

“Don’t know really. I’ll head down to the Coast for a start, there’s some old friends that I want to catch up with, and then, I don’t know, back to Christchurch maybe.”

“Christchurch? Cool. Can I come with you?”

“No you can’t. Don’t be silly. Lock the house when you go back to school.”

“Of course. ‘Bye then, Gran.”

“Goodbye, Sweetie. Don’t do anything that I wouldn’t do.”

“Is there anything that you wouldn’t do?”

“Not a lot, probably. Be good, Boy.”

“Well, that’s one thing that you wouldn’t do.”

“Cheek! Get away with you.”

Gran was gone by the time I’d had a sandwich and closed up the house. I checked Jimmy’s water-dish and I went back to school where I was greeted, loudly, by Denise.

“Darling! Where have you been, Sweetheart? We thought you’d left us for another!”

“Hey Denise. I just went home for lunch. My name’s Virgil, by the way.”

“Virgin!! What an adorable name! You’re not, are you?”

“Not what? Oh. That’s for me to know.”

“And us to find out? Wonderful! Your hair is fabulous, but we should put some colour in it – give it some life.”

“Don’t think I want life in my hair. It’s okay as it is.”

“No? That’s a shame. We shall have to educate you, My Darling. How long is it when it’s out? Can you sit on it?”

“Yeah, I can. Just, but I can.”

“Fabulous! We wish that we could. Our hair is way too short. Maybe we can sit on yours sometime?”

“Sit on my hair? Well, maybe.”

“That’s a date then! Now come and tell us all about yourself. Where have you been all our life?”

“Where? Well, Christchurch mostly, I guess.”

“Christchurch? No, boring place. Boring, boring, boring! We shan’t be living there.”

“We? I don’t know about you, but I’ll be living there. The sooner the better. I like Christchurch.”

“Oh no, Sweetheart! Boring! You can do so much better than that. We shall have to educate you.”

“Educate me? Good luck!”

“Oh, yes! We do like a challenge. We like you too, you’re interesting. We need more interesting people around here. Show us your nails.”

“Nails?”

“Fingernails, Darling. We want to see them. Oh no! That will never do. You so need a manicure!”

“A manicure? No I don’t. I just cut them when they need it.”

“No, no no. You need more than that. Look at mine! We used to bite them you know. Look at them now – Fabulous! It’s the little details that make up the big picture. Darling, you’re sweet, but you need work.

You shall be our project. Our mission will be to make you fabulous, all over!”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Then all the little bitches will stop picking on you, Darling.”

Okay. Something told me that there was more to this boy than you thought at first. He was loud, in your face and outrageous, but there was more to him. I kinda liked him.

My Story, 7

Our meals arrived and I tried to relax and enjoy myself, but it was not easy. Mum really had excelled herself. Coming here with these people was all her idea, I didn’t want to do it, and that’s putting it mildly, but she insisted and I was glad she did.

It seemed that I had two less enemies now and I’d gained two allies. Choice! I was still a bit wary, this all seemed too good to be true. After the time I’d had lately, having people actually being nice to me was – well, different. It was Joel who’d started all this crap, but I was prepared to let that go. If he could help put an end to it, that’d be good. Way good.

And, he was bloody cute in his new clothes. He did scrub-up nicely.

The food really was great, generous servings and good quality stuff. This was a classy joint, way better than Maccas which was more our usual style. Either that or Bilious Burgers, which was where we usually ate. Still, I could get used to this – if someone else was paying.

The “adults” finished off their beers and then a second one each. Then they started on the wine, red wine of course. They were there to party. I wasn’t interested in the wine, but Joel was. He tried asking, a couple of times, but it didn’t work. He wasn’t allowed any.

Mum and Mr.S were getting totally wrapped-up in each other and not paying much attention to us. Joel dropped something on the floor, (“Whoops”), and he ducked down below the table after it. I felt a couple of tugs on my trouser leg and I bent down to look at his grinning face.

He put his finger to his lips, in the old ‘shush’ sign, and showed me the half-flask of vodka that he had with him. Where the hell had he been hiding that? Strapped to his leg, it turned out. He poured a good splash into his raspberry and coke and held up the bottle, offering me some. ‘No thanks’, I shook my head and sat up again.

I hope I’m not coming across as some sort of prude here, but booze and drugs do nothing for me, they’re for losers. Ask my Gran, she’s always surrounded by them.

Anyway, as the meal went on and the food vanished, the adults were paying attention only to each other and no-one but me noticed how many times Joel and his drink disappeared below the table-top. The level in his glass stayed about the same, but the colour was getting lighter and lighter. I thought that I should help him, so I asked for another drink.

Mr. S gave me some money and I went down to the bar for fresh drinks for Joel and I. When I got back, Joel stood up and said, “I’m going to the loo. Do you want to come with me, Virgil?”

‘To the toilet, with him? That’s what girls do, isn’t it?’ Whatever.

“Yeah, okay. I could do with a slash.”

As soon as we got into the ‘mens’, Joel produed and lit-up a joint. Marijuana. I’d know that smell anywhere, I grew up with it. He offered me a toke, but I said no.

“No thanks – not my weakness. I don’t do drugs.”

“C’mon Kid, loosen up. The night is young and so are we. Have some fun!”

“I said no! You have your fun all by yourself, I’m not.”

“Suit yourself.”

I had a slash and washed up, even though I didn’t pee on my fingers, and then went outside to wait for him. Well, it’d be a bit sus if we returned separately, wouldn’t it? We were still not the best of mates, but I didn’t want to drop him in it.

We had dessert. Ever tried fish-flavoured ice-cream? Don’t bother, it’s disgusting! Joel had polished off his flask, the bottle was on the floor. He went back to the loos before we’d finished. Dork had his lighter and a joint in his fingers before he even got to the door. No-one else noticed.

“Right Boys,” Genial Dick, our happy host, smiled as he pushed some money across the table. “’Tash and I are going to a night-club for a couple of hours. You can’t come because you are just boys and they wouldn’t let you in. Here’s $20 each, we’ll drop you off in the centre of town and you can go and do whatever it is that kids do in the city on a Saturday night. Have a coffee, play some video games, terrorise the neighbourhood, whatever.

He paid the bill – there went half a week’s teacher’s wages. We went back to the car and Mum drove us into the city. She shouldn’t have been driving with the drinks she’d had, but, whatever. There were no cops around and she’s had plenty of practice.

She parked in the street outside, and they disappeared up the stairs to the Top Cat, night-club and bar. They left instructions for us to be back at the car by midnight.

“Alone at last,” Joel grinned. “Wanna make out?”

“Not bloody likely! What are we going to do, Joel? We’ve got 3 hours.”

“First we’ll have a wee drink, and then we’ll go and find some action.”

He produced another bottle, (Dramburie), from under the seat and had a swig. “Want some?”

“You know I don’t.”

“Suit yourself. You don’t know what you’re missing. This is good stuff.”

He had another swig and then he lit, yet another, joint. I got out and stood on the sidewalk while he smoked that. Smoking dope on your own is just sad really.

He wasn’t alone for the next one. Walking up Trafalgar Street, we met up with a couple of kids from school, and they all sat, smoking and drinking, on the steps up to the cathedral, while I kept an eye out. I didn’t appreciate the ‘babysitting’ comments, but it was better than what I usually got.

All of the money, including mine, went on more drinks from an Off-Licence. They were drinking ‘Alcopops’ which is a cheap and nasty stuff, made for and targeted at teenagers. It suits the breweries to get them hooked while they’re young, I guess.

I just had the privilege of watching the idiots drink themselves silly. Actually, I thought that the others were putting the drunk act on a bit. Joel wasn’t, he’d had a head start on them.

The heart of the city was humming on a Saturday night, lots of colour, lights and life. It was an exciting place to be, if you were over 18 and had lots of money to spare. We weren’t and we didn’t, so we sat in the shadows, on the cathedral steps, and watched while some of us got drunk. What an exciting night!

I should’ve stayed home and watched tele.

We did walk, (stagger/reel), down and back the length of the main street once. It didn’t take long, it wasn’t far. What we mostly did was to sit on the steps and watch the world go by. Kinda cool.

Joel said something about how he couldn’t wait until he got his own car. Yeah, that’d be fun in the state he was in. I don’t think.

The others hooked-up with some other kids and they left us to go and have a feed and annoy the people in the burger place. We didn’t go with them, we were broke again and I wasn’t hungry, for once!

Joel and I were left sitting in the shadows and he started getting amorous, but I was having none of that! Maybe I would think about it if he was sober, maybe. But he wasn’t, he was drunk, and stoned, and – eww! I fended him off. It wasn’t easy either, even though I was sober and he wasn’t.

As the night went on, there were some shady-looking characters out on the streets, so I was glad to agree when Joel wanted to go back to the car. He'd be handy to have around, if he was sober, but, right then, he’d be useless.

We made our way back down the street, he was pretty wasted and acting dumb. Who was babysitting who now? He stopped once and peed in one of the big planter-boxes lining the edge of the street. It’d help to water the flowers, he said. I did try to get him to, at least, go and do it in one of the dark alleys between the shops, but he wouldn’t.

He just flopped his dick out and did it in the full view of everyone walking past. Funny thing though, none of the people looked at him, they all looked somewhere else. I still found it bloody embarrassing. Joel didn’t, he just peed and giggled and told everyone how much he needed it. Nice dick too, even soft it was huge.

The traffic was pretty quiet, there were more people walking than driving, but there were still a few cars going past. Some of them were way too fast and too noisy too. The ‘car-boys’ were out cruising the streets.

Joel nearly got himself run-over when he staggered out across an intersection without looking. He would’ve been history if I hadn’t grabbed his arm and pulled him back out of the way. The car roared off down the street with the horn blaring.

Sheesh! Who’d have thought it? Before that night, I would’ve happily pushed him out and waved goodbye. Instead, I think I save the dork’s life, again. Did he thank me? Did he hell! He just stood and screamed out about the parents of the people in the car. They weren’t married, apparently, among other things.

Back at the car, I stood and waited while Joel fumbled around and searched for the spare key which was hidden above the front-right wheel. In the end, I pushed him out of the way and found it myself.

I opened the car, we got into the back seat and had a humungous argument. Joel wanted to do stuff which was probably impossible in his condition and I was not having it. I wasn’t kissing him either, it’d be like kissing an ash-tray or something.

I told him about his own parentage and what I thought of drunks and stoners, and then I climbed over and sat in the driver’s seat, away from his groping hands.

“Fuck off, Stafford!”

He went all quiet in the back-seat. I thought he might’ve been sulking or something, but when I looked back, he was sound asleep, sitting upright with his face smeared up against the window. His mouth was open and a line of drool hung out of it. Not a pretty sight.

His jeans were wide-open and pushed down around his hips. Yeah, despite everything, that was a pretty sight. I couldn’t leave him like that, so I crawled back over and closed his clothes up.

Yeah, I admit it, I did have a bit of a feel-around while I was at it. I couldn’t resist and he didn’t wake-up anyway. Another time, another place, that could be a dream come true, but, no.

I got him sort-of decent looking and went back to the front. I couldn’t leave him exposed like that for the parents to see. I needn’t have bothered, they wouldn’t have noticed anyway.

When they came rolling down the stairs, the parents were no more sober than Joel was. Damm! My mum’s loud and screechy when she’s pissed. Once a slapper, always a slapper, I guess. There was no way around it, it was a long way home and I was the only sober one there – so, I drove us home.

Yeah, I was unlicensed and way underage, but they were too drunk to drive. It was not a problem, I’d been driving for years, Gran taught me. I was driving her house-truck when I was only 10 or something.

It was a quiet trip home. Once they’d all settled down, the drunks went to sleep and I was, more or less, alone. They all woke up when I pulled in and parked outside the Stafford’s house. Joel got out, puked in the flower-bed, and then staggered inside. I went with him to make sure that he got to bed all right.

He didn’t want to take his clothes off, so I just pulled off his shoes and covered him up. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he was out like a light. Someone with less scruples than me could’ve done anything to him, he’d never know.

I put a bucket by the bed, turned the lights off and left him to it. His head was going to be so sore in the morning!

The car, and the parents, had gone from the driveway. I should’ve hung on to the keys, but didn’t think of it. Oh well.

I walked the short distance home and they were there, of course. They were in the kitchen with loud music going and shouting at each other as they made coffee.

‘Great! Wide-awake Drunks, just what I needed.’

I went to bed, shut the doors and left them to it. I’d had enough of babysitting for one night and, I didn’t want to know what was going to happen next.

“Well, that was an interesting first date.”

I turned the light off and went to sleep

My Story, 6

Part 6! You don’t know how lucky you are. Usually, I’d be sick of it by now.

I sat staring at his, (very cute), smiling face. Ever been lost for words? Yeah, me too. He was waiting for an answer, I had to say something.

“Umm, yeah.”

(Brilliant, eh? At least he didn’t stop smiling)

“Okay. Here we are then; let’s go in and enjoy it. They do great meals here. You hungry?”

“Bloody starving, actually.” I shrugged. “Let’s go eat.”

All right, I decided – I’d give him one more chance. But I wasn’t going to make it easy on him, I’d meet him halfway. Yeah, I know, I was easy. I know that now; but, what would you expect? I was a teenager, I was lonely and I was horny. I was hungry in more ways than one. That’s my excuse anyway. Dork!

We got out of the car, waited for the addicts to finish their nicotine hits, and then we all went into the restaurant. It was getting a bit chilly out there, Summer was definitely past its peak.

The place was crowded and very busy. Not every table was full, there were a few empty ones, more outside than in, but the bar was in there, between the dining area and the kitchens, and the floor area was chock-a-block full of people, milling around and talking, shouting, over the loud music. Hell must look something like that.

There were plenty of staff, mostly young guys, but they were all dashing around and dancing around each other behind the bar. There’s probably more money to be made from alcohol than food.

“Righto,” said Mr. Stafford, playing the host, which was fair enough really – he was paying for all this. “What is everyone having to drink?”

“I’ll have a beer, thanks Dick,” my mum replied. “Steinlager, if they’ve got it.”

(Told you that she was all class; or was that Gran? They’re both all class.)

“I could murder a Jack Daniels on ice,” Joel grinned.

“I’ll murder you if you do.” His father was not grinning. “You can have a raspberry and coke. Virgil, what do you want to drink?”

“I don’t. Can’t we just sit down and eat?”

“Patience, Boy, patience. I’ll get some drinks in, why don’t you all find a table somewhere? Outside would be nice.”

“It would not!” I protested. “I’m not sitting outside, it’s cold out there.”

“Cold? Fair enough. Find a table inside then.”

“Come on, Boys,” Mum said. “Let’s have a look upstairs. Maybe it’s not so crowded up there.”

It was a conspiracy! Everyone was being nice to Virgil, for once. Mr. Stafford went to the bar, pushing his way through the crowd. It must be nice, sometimes, to be all big and bulging with muscles. I’ll never know.

We followed Mum up to the top floor. The stairs were full of people too, but we got there. It was better up there, not so crowded, not quite as loud, and there were plenty of empty tables.

We took one by the windows looking out across the Bay. The lights of the towns of Mapua and Motueka twinkled out there, away over the far side.

I pulled a chair out for Mum, because I’m a gentleman. Yeah, I’ve got good manners, when I want to. Not sure where that came from, certainly not from my elders.

“Thank you, Honey.” Mum smiled and sat down.

Joel gave me a strange look, and then he grinned and pulled a chair out for me. I just scowled at him as I sat down. Fuck ‘im anyway.

“This is nice, isn’t it?” Mum was as determined to enjoy this evening as I was not to. “Let’s just see what’s on the menu, shall we?”

She picked up the laminated menu-cards, handed us one each and we sat studying them. There was no sign of any waitresses. You’d be hard-pressed to complain about the service in that place – there wasn’t any. I couldn’t for the life of me see what made it so popular. Just because it was trendy, I guess.

Did I mention what the music that they had playing, (loudly!), was? No? It was crappy old-people’s music – Solid Gold, Classic Hits kind of stuff. And, if you like that sort of crap, well, sue me – I don’t. Maybe I do now, some of it, but I didn’t then. They were even playing the Beachboys, for pity’s sake. Did cavemen have surfboards?

You know something funny about the Beachboys? They made all that surfing music, and they weren’t even surfers! Well, except for one of them. Dennis was a surfer and he drowned – in a swimming pool! So the story goes anyway. My gran told me that and she’d know, she was there, kind-of. She was ‘there’ when she wasn’t out of it, that is. No – wait a minute, my gran’s not even old enough to remember the 1960’s!

“Well, Joel?” Mum smiled, playing the lady. “Do you see anything you like?”

“I do.” The cheeky sod glanced at me. “But it’s not on the menu.”

“If it’s not on the menu, then you’re not getting it!” I scowled.

Mum frowned. I didn’t want to know what she was thinking. “”Don’t be grumpy, Honey. What are you going to have?”

“I’ll have fish.” I pushed the card back to her.

“Very funny. Every meal is fish. Have you decided which one?”

“Just get me the most expensive. No, seriously, I’ll have the Fisherman’s Basket.”

“The Fisherman’s Basket? Where’s that?” She peered at the menu. She really should have had her glasses on, but she was too vain for that. “Oh yeah. Good choice. You’ll get a little bit of everything. Do you want fries or salad with that?”

“Mum! I’ll have both, of course.”

“Of course! Joel?”

“I think I’ll have a Whaleburger.”

“A Whaleburger?”

“Yeah. Biggest burgers in town. They’re great.”

“You’ve eaten here before, have you?”

“A few times. It’s not cheap, but it’s worth it.”

“Come here with all your dad’s girlfriends, do you?” I smiled sweetly.

“And my boyfriends.” He grinned back.

“You should’ve brought one then.” I turned to look out of the window. To hell with him, he shouldn’t say things like that in front of my mum.

“Here we are then.” Mr. Stafford put a tray of drinks in the centre of the table, and he sat down. “Two Steinlagers and two large raspberry and cokes. Everybody happy, are we?”

“Thanks, Dick. That’s great.” Mum took a bottle with its upended glass, passed his one to him and pushed the tray to me.

“Thanks, I guess.” I took mine and passed the tray to Joel. I should explain here that the table, where we were sitting, was a small natural-wood one, rectangular in shape. Joel and I were opposite each other, sitting next to the windows. Stafford senior sat next to me and opposite Mum, near the aisle. Got that? Good, it’s important.

“Has everybody decided what they’re having?” He and Mum made their choices and they ordered when the waitress, (finally!), showed up.

Mr. Stafford tried his drink, and then focused on me. “How’s it going, Virgil?”

“I’m okay. But, I just want to say right now, that if someone doesn’t stop playing ‘footsie’ with me, they’re going to get a good swift kick.

The mysterious foot touching me under the table withdrew quickly. Somebody was teasing me, I honestly don’t know whether it was Mum, (I wouldn’t put it past her), or Joel, (I wouldn’t put it past him either). I still don’t know who it was, I’ve never asked.

He hadn’t finished with me yet. “You’ve had 2 weeks now, at your new school. What do you think of it so far?”

“What? You’re joking, right? What do you think I think of it? I hate the fucking place!”

“Virgil, watch your language!” Mum snapped. If she thought she was going to play authority-figure, it was a bit late now.

“It’s okay, ‘Tash,” he kept smiling. “I did ask.” Who was this guy? He looked like our creepy PE teacher, but he sure didn’t sound like him.

“You’re not happy there then?”

“You could say that.”

“It’s early days yet. It takes a while to settle in sometimes. Your mum says that you were a keen sportsman at your old school?”

“Yeah, kind-of. I was never that good at games, but I enjoyed them.”

“As you should. Don’t you think that you’d like your new school more, and fit in better, if you gave sports a try?”

“Oh sure! That’d be so much fun – getting punched and kicked and tripped by a bunch of country-hicks. Why don’t I try that?”

“You don’t know that that would happen. You haven’t been anywhere near the sportsfield.”

“I do know that that would happen, and that’s why I haven’t. I’m not going to either.”

“How do you know?”

“How? Easy. I’m not stupid. I get nothing but foul-mouthed abuse all day long. If you think that I’m going to give them a chance to get physical with it, you can think again – I’m not.”

“Are you scared of your classmates, Virgil?”

“Hello? Are you listening to me? I stood up to you, didn’t I? I might be stuck in classes with them, but they are not my mates. I’m not scared of any of the jerks, if they were on their own. But they’re not on their own and I am. How would you like odds of about 30 to 1 against you?”

“I wouldn’t like that; not at all.”

(He was doing well, wasn’t he? He had to really; he wasn’t going to impress his date by exploding at her son.) I decided to go easy on him for a bit.

“Can we talk about something else? Anything but school. You know how I feel about it, let’s leave it at school.”

“We will soon. I’m trying to understand your situation so that we can help you. What sort of names do they call you?”

“Oh, you know. Just the usual – Faggot, Cock-Sucker, Fudge-Packer, that sort of thing.”

“Is it really that bad?”

“Yes! It’s really that bad; all day, everyday. Don’t tell me to get my hair cut. I’ve never had a hair-cut in my life and I’m not starting now.”

“I wouldn’t do that. Your hair is your business, and nobody else’s.” (Wow! He just went up in my estimation. Top marks, that man!) “Is that why the kids started calling you, Faggot – because of your hair?”

“No, that’s not why. My hair’s got nothing to do with it.”

“What started the name-calling then??”

“Wrong question, Mr. Stafford. It’s not what, it’s who started it?”

In saying that, I looked directly at Joel, who immediately turned bright-red. Don’t tell me, I know I can be a mean little shit sometimes, but he asked for it. No-one hurts me like he did and gets away with it. Revenge is sweet.

“Joel??” Everyboy’s friend suddenly became the stern father. He was awesome, scary too. “Are you responsible for what is happening to this boy?”

I’ve never seen anyone stop blushing as fast as he did. He just switched instantly to a whiter shade of pale, and he actually started sweating. Damm! Cocky Joel Stafford was terrified of his father.

‘Okay, too far, Virgil.’ I had to help him before he died of fright.

“They all started it, Mr. Stafford. I just arrived there, I hadn’t even opened my mouth, someone made a nasty comment and it spread like wildfire, and it hasn’t stopped. They’re all doing it. Joel said that he’s going to stop them.”

“I see.” The Fierce Father settled down. “Pleased to hear that. I’m proud of you, Son. Virgil, why haven’t your teachers put a stop to it already?”

Mum interrupted, “He said that they all grin and look the other way.”

“They WHAT?” Mr. Stafford was the one all red in the face now. He really did have a short wick. And he was scary. I’d think twice before I defied him again. Okay, I wouldn’t, but you know what I mean. Awesome.

“Virgil, you will find some changes when you return to school on Monday. We will all be watching out for you an, if there is any further trouble, those responsible will be expelled – and that includes the staff.”

“Wow! Thanks, but can you do that?”

“You’d be surprised what the District Chairman of the Teacher’s Union can do. The meals are coming; let’s enjoy them and have a pleasant evening.”

While the waitresses were loading the table up with the huge meals, I looked across and winked at Joel. He grinned back and held out his hand, which I shook. I think that I just saved his life. Maybe we could be friends after all? Also, maybe it wasn’t so bad, having no father and just a couple of ditzy females for parents. You never really know what goes on behind closed doors, do you??

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?)

My Story, 4

On Monday morning, we went to school. Well, some of us did. Mum went first, of course, she was gone over there before 8am. Teachers have to start earlier, don’t you know. You didn’t? Well, they do. Think about it; someone has to set up and get ready for the day’s classes.

There was no sign of Gran. She was still in bed, probably snoring her head off. I wasn’t quite sure that she was alone, but I was not about to check. I’m pretty sure that I heard voices during the night, long after Mum and I had gone to bed.

At a couple of minutes before 9, I picked up my bag and went to school. I was looking forward to it actually – a new beginning in a new school, new people and who knew what adventures lay ahead? Fool that I was, I was even thinking that maybe I’d get back on the right track with Joel. I was more than willing to try again if he was. He wasn’t.

I knew where to go; the school secretary had given us a guided tour, the day before. I sorted my books into the locker and went to find my first class.

No-one spoke to me, but everyone was looking.

‘So I’ve got long hair, get over it. Pack of Hayseeds!’

Joel, with a couple of others, came around the corner, stopped and looked at me. He was looking good, of course – all fresh and glowing from his morning shower and with his hair gelled and carefully styled.

“Is that the one?” One of the boys with him asked.

“Yeah, that’s the one. Take him down to the river and he’ll be begging you for it. Queer alert, Guys. The pansy has arrived. Watch out for your dicks.”

And, having totally destroyed my reputation and having made sure that my life was going to be hell, he walked away. What a prick! No-one believed him, of course.

The hell they didn’t! They didn’t even ask for my side of the story. I was the long-haired cissy-boy and Stafford was the local – I was just an outsider, a queer outsider.

Red-faced again, I stood there trying to ignore the looks. I would’ve liked to lash out, but couldn’t. There was just me, all alone, and I couldn’t fight the lot of them.

Then it started. “Fuck off, Fairy.”

Faggot, Queer, Arse-bandit, Fudge-packer, Shirt-lifter. Do you have any idea how many ways there are to insult a gay-boy? You should spend a morning at Tiroroa High. I must’ve heard the whole bloody lot, several times over, and that was before lunchtime!

On the way out for lunch, three girls stood looking at me. One of them scoffed. “There’s not much to it, is there? But, Denise will be delighted.”

“It will!” One of the others agreed. “A playmate for the Queen! At least they can’t breed.” They laughed and walked away.

Who or what was ‘Denise’? I hadn’t a clue what they were talking about. Fuck ‘em. I wasn’t going to hang around to be a target for their abuse. I went home for lunch.

At 2 minutes before 1 o’clock, I went back over for a couple more hours of it. At 3.30, the buses were lining-up out the front and everyone was hanging around, talking and laughing. Everyone except one, that is. I walked straight out of the school and across the road to home.

I’m not sure what made me do it, but, on the way out, I decided to give them all a good look – they’d all been wondering. As soon as I was out of the gates, I eased the elastic-tie out and shook my hair out to let it loose in the breeze.

‘Now look at me, Fuckers. I’ve got hair, what’ve you got?’

Jimmy was pleased to see me anyway. I let him off the chain and we went inside to eat. I hated this bloody school. I hated this town and, especially, I hated Joel Bloody Stafford! Prick.

Gran was in the kitchen, being domestic. She’s not very good at it, but she does try, sometimes.

“Hello, Sweetie. Don’t go spoiling your appetite; I’ve got a special dinner to celebrate your first day in your new school. How was it anyway?”

“How was it? It was fucking awful, Gran – worst day of my life. I hate this place.”

“That’s ordinary awful, Mr. Potty-Mouth. I’m sorry that you didn’t have a good day, but you don’t have to come home and take it out on us.”

“Okay. Sorry, Gran. But it was horrible. Can’t we go back to Christchurch and leave Mum here on her own?”

“You know that’s not going to happen. This is where we live now. You’ll just have to make the most of it.”

Pah! She’s all heart, my Gran, and we were stuck there. I’d never thought it at the time, but now my old life, in Christchurch, seemed like heaven compared to this place. If you don’t believe in Hell, come to beautiful Tiroroa.

Life went on. At home, it was much the same as ever. Sometimes it seemed like I was the only grown-up in the house. Mum and Gran were having no trouble making new friends, they were out more often than not. Me? I stayed at home with my best friend, my only friend – Jimmy.

Somehow, I made it through the first week at school. Things didn’t get any better, but they didn’t get any worse. Well, they couldn’t, could they? I tried not to let it get to me, but it wasn’t easy.

I didn’t have a single conversation with anyone – not one. The only time anyone ever spoke to me was to abuse me and call me more of their stupid names.

I wasn’t going to give them an excuse to start beating on me, so the best I could do was to ignore them and make like I couldn’t even hear them. I really wished I couldn’t. It must be nice, in a way, being deaf, but then there’d be no music. Bugger that.

Sports? Forget it! If I went anywhere near a sportsfield, the abuse would get physical, I just knew it. So I didn’t. I refused to have anything to do with their dumb sports, which, of course, got me in even more trouble.

Guess who the Physical education teacher was? Mr. Dick Stafford, of course! – Joel’s father. (And he was a dick, a great big one). He was as big a prick as his son was. I hated him too.

Tuesday afternoon’s sports-period was the last one for the day, so I just went home an hour early. That worked fine, no trouble at all. No-one stopped me and Gran wasn’t at home, so I had an hour’s freedom. Wicked!

Thursday afternoon, I did the same thing but it didn’t go as well. Mr. Stafford saw me leaving and he came stomping over the road after me. At first he tried calling out to me, I ignored him and kept going. Damm, he could move fast for an old guy! He cut me off at the gate.

(‘Fuck. A couple more meters and I’d be home free’).

“Are you deaf or something, Boy? Where do you think you’re going?”

(“Isn’t it obvious?’). I just stood there, didn’t look at him and didn’t answer. That was a great way to rack his anger levels up.

“Dammit Boy! I asked you a question. I expect an answer. Where were you going?”

“Home.”

(That was the first word I’d spoken to anyone all day. I shouldn’t have bothered). “Home? Home?!!” He yelled in my face. “You are not! You can get yourself right back over to the school. You’ve got an hour’s sports period before your day is over.”

There was no way that I was going back. I used my best defence, my only defence - I ignored him and stood there, quietly admiring the scenery and waiting for him to go away. What could he do?

“Well? You heard me, Boy! Get back over to school!”

Red-faced and so angry, he stood there and glared at me. I refused to be intimidated. I wasn’t scared of the son and I wasn’t scared of the father either. He would’ve liked to hit me, I knew that. But if he laid one hand on me, that would be the end of his job. I knew that too and so did he, so he didn’t. I just waited, he had to go, he had a class waiting for him. Finally, he gave in and he went back.

“Right then. This is your last chance. I’m going back to school, you can come with me or you can spend the next week in detention.”

He walked away; I went into the house feeling quite pleased with myself – I won. Okay, I had a week’s detention. So what? It would give me something to do in the lunch-hours.

Detention was held in the lunch-hour at Tiroroa High. They couldn’t keep the kids in after school because so many of them had to catch the buses home. I got to know the detention room quite well.

Gran was at home, but she was busy. She was in the living-room and she had company. I never knew where she found these drop-kicks who could sit around smoking ‘dope’ with her in the middle of the day, but she always did.

It seemed that I’d be getting my own dinner again. That was okay, I had a pizza hidden in the bottom of the freezer.

I changed out of my hated school clothes, let Jimmy off his chain, and we climbed through the back fence to go through the paddocks and down to the river. I’d found another swimming hole in the river directly behind our house. It was really cool, much better than the one down by the bridge, and it was private. I had yet to see anyone else down there, which suited me just fine.

I wasn’t swimming but Jimmy was. He loved it and it kept him clean, much easier than bathing him.

When we went back, I fed Jimmy while waiting for the pizza to heat. I took it to my room to eat it there while watching TV. I could’ve sat in the living-room, the TV was going in there, but – no. I knew all about second-hand smoke in an enclosed room. I’d be stoned out of my skull, and I wasn’t having that.

I had a thing about booze and mind-altering drugs – I hated them and wanted nothing to do with them. Still don’t actually. Sheesh! In most families it’s the kids who are the stoners, not the adults. Not mine though.

Mum arrived home and came in to see me, all happy and smiling. Yeah, rite! She was anything but. She’d been talking to Mr. Stafford and she was so not happy.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? You stupid little shit!”

“Doing? I’m eating my dinner. Do you want some? There’s too much for me and Gran’s ripped again, so she’s not cooking anything.”

“I’m not talking about that and you know it. What did you upset Mr. Stafford for?”

“Did I? Mum, maybe he upset me. Have you thought about that? He’s the one who came chasing after me.”

“He was chasing you because you were running away. What did you refuse to go to sports for? PE is part of your schooling whether you like it or not.”

“Like it? Mum, I hate this fucking school! I hate everything about it. I wish the place would burn to the ground. Actually, there’s a thought.”

“Don’t you dare! Don’t you even think about it. Oh, Honey,” she sighed as she sank down on the bed next to me. She took a slice of pizza and started munching.

“What’s wrong, Virgil? Why do you hate this school? I think it’s a great little place.”

“Yeah.? Well it’s all right for you. No-one’s giving you stick all the time. I get it all day, everyday. Nobody ever speaks to me unless it’s to abuse me. I hate them, Mum. I really hate them. I hate the whole bloody lot of them.”

“How do they abuse you?”

“They call me names, horrible names. I doubt if they even know what my real name is.”

“Well, you’re here now. It’s early days yet. What do they call you?”

“Faggot, Queer, cock-sucker – you name it, they use it.”

“That bad? I didn’t know. What do the teachers do?”

“They grin and look the other way.”

“Really? Bastards! We’re not having that; I’m going to put a stop to it. But you have to go to sports, it’s part of your schooling.”

“No! I’m not.”

“You have to. Look, there’s more than just you involved here. You’re not just an ordinary kid now, you’re a teacher’s kid and if you’re stropping up then it’s going to reflect on me. I worked long and hard to get this job and I don’t want to lose it now. Things are just coming right for us, Virgil. Please don’t stuff it up on us.”

“I’m not stuffing up anything. I do nothing. I just go to school, keep my mouth shut and get abused all day long.”

“But you won’t go to PE.”

“No, I won’t! Mum, if I go anywhere near the sports-field, I’ll just be a punching bag. Is that what you want?

“No, of course it isn’t. I’ll talk to Mr. Stafford and make sure that he keeps an eye out for you.”

“Like that’s going to happen. He’s just a prick and he hates me too.”

“No he doesn’t. He’s a teacher and it’s his job to see that you’re safe.”

“Is it? I don’t think any of the Pricks know that.”

“They do know that, or they will by the time I’ve finished with them. Don’t worry, Honey. I’m going to fix this.”

“Good luck trying.”

“I’ll do more than try. I’ll fix it. Please try to get on with Mr. Stafford. I quite like him really. His boy’s in the school too. Maybe he can help you.”

“Help me? He ‘s the worst of the lot of them – he started it in the first place.”

“Really? I thought he was a nice boy.”

“A nice boy? Shows how much you know. He’s a fucking prick – a major douche-bag.”

“Virgil, Honey, I do wish you’d watch your language. We’re not exactly prudes around here, but you’re getting very foul-mouthed.”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll try, but I’m not very fucking happy right now.”

“I can see that. Don’t worry it will get better.”

“Can’t get much worse. Thanks, Mum.”

“Anytime, Honey.” She left, with most of my pizza.

‘Cool. My mother doesn’t hate me. Why didn’t I get her on the case on the first day?’

Those pricks didn’t know what was coming. My Mum’s not the perfect mother, but, Whoah! No-one beats her in a battle – ever!