CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
Dudley swaggered into the Nurse's quarters, his annoyance rapidly changing into a rush of relief. He didn't have to pretend to be polite with Nurse Hayes, not like he did with the other twats who had somehow qualified to become teachers. She was able to handle his personality and was not easily offended. Dudley guessed years upon years of experience dealing with pre-pubescent and teenage boys had accustomed the Nurse to the mindset and behaviours of Smeltings pupils.
"Alright, Miss?"
He slowly sat down on the medical bed set up in the corner and leant his head back against the wall, right hand plucking his straw boater off to spin it round his index finger.
Nurse Hayes, a heavyset woman with kind eyes yet a firm manner, turned away from the cupboard she had been sorting through to face one of her regular visitors. She smoothed down the front of her matron uniform, clicking her tongue as she caught Dudley's eyes flicking downwards to her chest.
"That's not my face, Mr Dursley."
Cheeks blushing, Dudley snapped his gaze upwards and smiled crookedly.
"Kerrington told me to come see you. Check that I was all okay."
"I'm surprised Mr Kerrington didn't tell you to see me sooner. I heard about your little trip outside the school grounds in the middle of the night. Did you expect not to get caught?"
His smile wavered. "I went for a walk… lost track of time. I'm alright, just give me the once over and tell the head I'm fine, so he'll get off my back. Yeah?"
"Dudley," Nurse Hayes shook her head in exasperation, but a fond smile twitched her lips. "I know you and Mr Kerrington don't particularly like each other, but he's correct on this occasion… and yes, I am admitting that he makes the wrong decisions at time before you say anything. Luckily, you were not injured last night, but I need to fully examine you. Take your shirt off."
Dudley cocked an eyebrow and put on a high-pitch. "Ooh, Nurse Hayes! Don't you know I'm underage?"
She rolled her eyes in response and swatted him. "Shirt off, Dudley, and lie down."
He snickered, dropping his straw boater to the floor. Dudley shrugged off his maroon tailcoat, hitched his jumper up and over his head and loosened his tie, adding it to the growing pile on the floor. He unbuttoned his white shirt, pooling it under his feet, and looked down at his torso, unable to stop the smug smile he now wore.
"Told you I would stick to the fitness regime, I'm stronger than I was before the summer. You thought I'd slip in the summer after doing so well. I didn't, I was well good."
"I can see. I'm pleased you've maintained a healthy weight, you look completely different to when I first started seeing you, all in a short space of time." Nurse Hayes lost her firm manner momentarily. "I was very worried about you, Dudley. When you were at your top weight… you were close to medical intervention. You've done very well." She smiled kindly. "You have made me proud."
Dudley scoffed, the soppy display too much for him, although his ego did appreciate the sentiment.
"I need to get rid of this little bit though." He abruptly growled, slammed a fist onto the one pouch of flab that floated on his stomach. "I'm not fat anymore, I am fucking fit."
Nurse Hayes, tolerant of Dudley's foul mouth, let the language slide but was quick to calm him down. "That will go in time, remember you're still growing and if you continue to keep up your fitness levels, soon you'll notice a difference. Do I need to remind you about the balance between exercising and maintaining your energy? You can't work out full power at the gym every day, Dudley. You'd burn out. Lie down now."
He wrenched his gaze away from himself, letting go of the spite towards the last remnants of flab and lay on his back, resting his head on the hard headboard.
"You got a pillow, Miss? This bed is still uncomfortable."
"Here you go." Nurse Hayes pulled a pillow out of one of the fresh linen cupboards and once Dudley had tilted his head forwards enough, propped the pillow behind him. He sank back into fluffiness and closed his eyes.
"No prodding. Just tell me I'm all good."
He heard the snap of gloves, goose bumps rising on his arms when the cold gloves patted his skin.
"Do you have any pain anywhere?"
"No." 'Apart from in my head, but that's being quiet today… So far.'
"I can't see any bruising or marks. When you woke up this morning, did you see any on your lower half?"
"Nah. Nothing."
"That's good. Now, I'm going to get my penlight and shine it in your eyes for any signs you are suffering from concussion."
The examination was thorough, but to Dudley's relief, the Nurse concluded that there was no physical damage and he could be signed off as healthy with no concerns.
"Thank god. Told you I was fine. Tell Kerrington that you just wasted your time." He sat up and started to get dressed as the Nurse sighed. "Dudley, this examination was necessary. I'll write you a note for your first class, to explain why you're late. What lesson do you have?"
He tightened his tie, glancing at the clock hung up on the wall. It stated the time of nine thirty, meaning he had missed half of his maths lesson. He grunted in frustration.
"Can't you tell Mr Fenn that although it was heart-breaking for me, I couldn't get to his class in time? I don't want to do maths, what's the point of maths anyway? I know how to bloody add up and takeaway."
"You need to go to your maths class. You have your GCSE's at the end of the year." Her eyes hardened. "I'm not letting my favourite pupil flunk his exams."
"I'm your favourite?" Dudley smirked. "That's what all the girls say."
Nurse Hayes reached out and swatted him again. "You are certainly a charmer, Dudley Dursley, and as one of your teachers, I'm advising that you go to your first class. You want to be a salesman when you leave Smeltings?"
He grimaced, flattening his straw boater onto his gelled hair. "That's what Dad wants. Says he's got a job waiting for me when I finish school. I don't wanna sell drills, I want to box. Professionally."
"With your track record, I can't see why you wouldn't be able to become professional." Nurse Hayes's eyes softened and she smiled.
"Really?" His ego boosted, because he was the best damn boxer in all of England… Well, the best damn Junior boxer in all of England.
"But boxers require maths skills, so get going." She shooed him with her hands, before pulling a pen out of her pocket. "I'll write you the note, then you're going straight to maths. Yes?"
"Fine." Dudley pushed himself up to his full height and kissed his teeth. "Better be worth my time."
"Trust me," Nurse Hayes finished writing her note and handed it over to him with a flourish. "It is. Now, off you go. Take care, Mr Dursley."
"You too, Miss." He ambled out of her quarters, taking his sweet time in reaching his first class.
His day was filled with boring lessons, taught by posh twats who still hated him four years down the line. Mr Fenn accepted his note, admonishing him for his antics the previous evening. Dudley merely glared down at the man who stood a meagre five foot six. He was ordered to sit at one of the front desks, near the geeks who had met his fists more times than seen his face. The one next to him was all spots and bad teeth. Dudley sneered at the boy next to him and put his eyes to paper, the remaining twenty minutes dragging his sanity and patience away.
His other morning classes consisted of more admonishments about his 'reckless behaviour', however his English teacher Miss Hutchins did ask if he was okay. Dudley considered her a posh twat, but a fit posh twat. He'd nodded and sat down at his chosen seat at the back of the room before she could question him further. By the time it got to lunchtime, Dudley was starving and upon entering the dining hall, his mouth was soon salivating. Beef burgers and chips were available and the need to indulge quickly overwhelmed him. If he added a bit of lettuce and tomato into it, that was healthy, right? If he could trick the voice into believing he was eating healthily, he wouldn't throw up afterwards. It was a wild theory, but Dudley wanted burger and chips, so fuck the voice.
He grabbed a plate and ordered his food, demanding the woman serving to stuff as much lettuce and tomato that could fit between the layers of the burger. He took his plate and drink of water over to where his large group of mates were sitting, crunching a crispy chip between his teeth.
"You actually eating proper food, Big D?" Peter asked, ripping a chunk out of his own burger and wiping away the sauce that remained on his lips.
"Yeah." Dudley grunted, hands busy folding the burger in half. "Ain't got no sauce though."
"That makes the burger taste even more fucking delicious!" Lewis piped up. "Don't know why you still stick to that rabbit diet. Look at you, D, you're hench."
"You checking me out or something?" Dudley swallowed his mouthful of burger. "And let me eat in peace."
"Alright." Lewis backed down and the boys nearest to Dudley ate in silence, realising he was in a bad mood. Dudley finished his lunch and left the dining hall, heading to the bathroom.
'I'm just going for a piss. I'm not gonna be sick. Come on, keep the food down.'
He entered the toilets and stepped up to the urinal, the whole time telling himself the same mantra. 'Don't be sick, don't be sick.' When he finished, Dudley sorted himself out and washed his hands, walking out of the bathroom, pleased as punch. Bile had built up in his throat, but he'd kept it down. Allowing himself a moment of victory, Dudley headed outside for some fresh air before tackling the afternoon's schedule of lessons.
At twenty nine minutes past three, Dudley stood outside the Headmaster's office. This detention was going to be hellish, considering he was still exhausted from his unplanned trip last night plus the many nights where he'd managed to gain only a couple of hours of broken sleep due to slowly being driven loopy by a demonic voice. Flexing his fingers out, because he was sure he would be writing lines in this detention, Dudley waited for the door to open. The handle swung down and Mr Kerrington's face was revealed at precisely three thirty, the man appraising the pupil before him.
"Glad to see that you have made it on time, Mr Dursley. Come in." Mr Kerrington stepped aside and waited for Dudley to enter the office before closing the door behind him. The chair that usually was placed in front of his desk, taken up either by pupils who were subsequently lavished with praise or pupils like him, who were preparing to be shouted at, was no longer there. It had been moved to the side of the desk, so Mr Kerrington would now be to his right. Oblivious to the eye-rolling from the fifth year pupil beside him, Mr Kerrington pointed to the chair at the side.
"You will be sitting there, Mr Dursley. Whilst I continue with my work, you will be writing lines. Those lines are: 'I must respect the rules of Smeltings Academy and all those who teach within the walls.' I want you to write that as many times as you possibly can within the next hour. Take a seat."
Dudley thudded into his seat, taking a fountain pen from the pocket of his tailcoat and wishing he had his Smeltings stick to whack the Headmaster over the head with. He'd tossed it on his bed before visiting the Nurse this morning, and had neglected to pick it up before arriving to his detention. He thought the lines he had to write were pathetic and long-winded. How was this benefitting him? All he got out of it was a sore hand and a waste of his precious time. He could have been pounding a first year instead of sitting in this poxy office!
Lowering his head, Dudley put his pen to paper and etched out his name and the date at the top, before slowly writing out the first few words of his proposed lines. Mr Kerrington had busied himself behind his desk with paperwork, not bothering to spare his pupil a glance, so therefore missed what happened next.
Dudley was steadily writing his words when a sharp pain exploded in his head. He gritted his teeth and swallowed his scream down. Only a small noise escaped his throat, but it wasn't loud enough to alert Mr Kerrington who was too deep into his work to notice. (Or in Dudley's mind, care.) He squeezed the fountain pen with an iron grip, eyes screwed tightly shut as the searing pain continued in his head. A whisper cut through the terror and shrank his world into a single frame.
"Let me in."
The whisper was frantic, buzzing all over his brain. His skin prickled and the hairs on the back of his neck lifted, a cold sweat dampening his armpits. The voice built up and up until it was a crescendo of blood-curdling screams, deafening Dudley to the point where he dropped his pen in shock, a splash of ink spurting out over his paper. He clapped his hands over his ears and gritted his teeth more, the thunderclap roaring in his very soul.
"LET ME IN, LET ME IN, LET ME IN, LET ME IN, LET ME IN, LET ME-"
"Mr Dursley? Are you alright?"
'NO, I WON'T! LEAVE ME ALONE!'
"LET ME IN, LET ME IN, LET ME IN-"
"Mr Dursley? Dudley?!"
'WHAT DO YOU EVEN MEAN BY 'LET ME IN'? YOU'RE IN MY RUDDY MIND, NOT OUTSIDE A DOOR! GET FUCKED!'
"Do you need medical assistance? Mr Dursley!"
"You will be mine."
The roaring pain cut out, the buzzing stopped and Dudley opened his eyes warily, the ink splashed paper gripping his attention. That parting statement… that sealed the deal. This shit was getting serious. He needed to keep this monster out of his head, before it burrowed into his brain and started to do some creepy voodoo shit, like controlling his movements and speaking through his mouth…
"Like the Exorcist." Dudley mumbled, letting his arms drop down onto the desk and releasing a sigh of relief. His heart was pounding and the sweat clung to him like a leech would to skin. But he was safe, for now.
"What was that?!"
Fuck. Kerrington. Dudley snapped his head up and stared at his Headmaster, who was looking at him as if he had grown another head. "Sir," He splayed his fingers out in a placating manner. "I had a head-ache, s'all-"
"You were in pain, Mr Dursley. It was written all over your face. Do you require an ambulance?" His hand hovered near the corded phone and panic raced through Dudley's mind. Ambulances meant hospitals and doctors meant tests and results meant mental asylums. No way was he going to a hospital, so he laid on the charm and scoffed.
"Didn't get much sleep last night, did I? Everything sounds louder than it is. Honestly, Sir, I'm fine." He gestured to his paper. "Can I have some more? My pen leaked everywhere."
"Yes, of course." Kerrington handed over a wad of fresh lined paper and both of them set back to work. This time however, Mr Kerrington paused in his surveying of paperwork to spare a worried glance towards his pupil.
The detention finished at half past four and Dudley had managed to finish six pages of lines, his big block writing filling up the blank spaces quickly. He left his lines with Mr Kerrington and upon being dismissed, was advised to go and see Nurse Hayes once again.
"I understand that the Nurse deemed you as physically fit, but after what just happened, I suggest you go and see her."
Dudley crossed his arms over his broad chest and whined: "Nah, Sir. I'm not going again, I've already been. Told you, I'm fine. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go and lie down."
"Mr Dursley-"
"I'm finished with the day, Sir! Don't have no more classes, it's my time now! I'm knackered, I'm going to bed."
He banged out of the office, leaving Mr Kerrington staring at his open door, not surprised at the attitude he had received. He would have to keep a close eye on Dudley Dursley, whether the boy approved of it or not. Meanwhile, Dudley made his way up to his dormitory and entered the communal bathroom. A full-length mirror managed to contain his bulk and as he stared at himself, he noticed the bags under his eyes. They weren't severe enough for him to be classed as needing a drip to replenish his hydration and strict orders to rest, but he could tell that soon, he wouldn't be far off. Dudley took his eyes away from his facial features and stared at his body. Underneath his uniform, he didn't seem as muscular as usual, in fact, he looked… fat. Shaking his head, Dudley told himself:
"You're delusional. Stop bloody making stuff up and go to bed. I need a lie down after everything."
He turned round and trudged out of the bathroom, kicking his shoes off before collapsing onto his bed, drawing the curtains around himself.
The rest of his first full week back at school was interesting, to say the least. By the second day, everyone was aware of his 'disappearance' and there were rumours regarding the few hours he had been off school premises. Some said he went to visit a prostitute for sex, some said he went to try his luck in a pub by using his older appearance to secure an alcoholic drink. Some said he went off and was abducted by aliens, replaced with a clone of himself, who was quieter than usual and acting suspicious. Some say he was taken hostage by a rival boxing team, who wanted to chop his hands off so he could no longer fight. All the rumours washed over him and Dudley simply didn't care. People gossiping about him usually meant trouble for them, but with a voice in his head and freaky occurrences, he had other concerns. He was managing to attend all of his classes, but the less mentioned about his work, the better. Maths and English, he was already failing and History and French, he was behind in his homework. Dudley struggled to concentrate when a voice resembling the ten year old boy he tormented in his home town muttered in his mind every day.
His stress relief was the gym and, on the Friday, he found himself in combat with a fourth year. Phillip McQueen was a stocky boy, next to Dudley, he was the biggest in the school, albeit not as tall. As a first year, Phillip had been nicknamed 'Queenie' by one who definitely wasn't a queen and the name had stuck until last year, when around the same time as Dudley, Phillip had begun boxing and shown a knack for it. He and Dudley were friendly rivals, but the older boy knew he was the best, because he had the title.
"Jab with your right, that's it, Phil… Dudley, duck!"
The fist blew softly off his cheek and Dudley blinked, wiping his glove across his face. Coach Graves shook his head in a mixture of annoyance and disappointment.
"McQueen, don't know why you're doing a glancing blow. In a real match, you can't softly tap them and expect them to fall over. You're in the heavyweight class. Hit them properly."
"Sorry, Coach." Phillip's pale skin flushed. "I could tell Big D was out of it, so didn't want to hit him too hard."
Dudley blinked again, a spike of anger rising. "Out of it? What do you mean?! Tell that to my face, Queenie, or I'll shove-"
"No one is shoving anything up anyone's arse. I know what you were implying, Dursley. Now, McQueen, I want you to hold the plank for five minutes straight, no slacking."
"But Coach-"
"McQueen, I've told you to go and give me a solid plank, I'm waiting!"
With a huff, Phillip climbed out of the ring and Coach Graves turned to the older boy.
"What's going on, Dudley? You're usually in top form. You might be Heavyweight Champion, but you need to keep up your training if you don't want to risk losing the title. I know you've got GCSE's and any time you need off to study is fine, but you've got to learn how to balance. Okay? Now, let's do blocking, by that display just now, you need to finesse your ducking and dodging."
He continued on with the boxing session, leaving forty five minutes later with sweat soaking his hair and an ice cold towel hugging his thick neck. He swung by the dining hall, not caring if he stunk of sweat and body odour, and disregarding the rule of pupils not being allowed to wear any sportswear whilst in the dining hall. Dudley caught the eye of Mr Fenn, who gestured to his clothes. In response, Dudley skipped the queue by shoving past a group of frightened second years and demanded to the woman serving:
"Lasagne and garlic bread. I want cheese, lots of it. And give me chocolate cake."
"With strawberries?" She looked at him disapprovingly. Dudley batted a memory of being fat-shamed at the age of twelve by the same woman in the exact same location away and smiled crookedly. "Yeah, a fuck-ton of strawberries. Hurry up."
The server blinked at him, unsure of how to respond. She seemed to wrestle with her thoughts, before complying with the boy's demands and serving up what he'd asked for. Dudley accepted the plate and bowl and veered towards the doors, leaving the dining hall and heading up to his common room. It was empty of pupils, all of them at dinner and as he sank into one of the leather sofas, Dudley placed his bowl of pudding onto the coffee table in front of him and pulled up one of the footrests. He rested his feet up and dug into the lasagne, closing his eyes in bliss. It was not nearly as good as his Mum's homemade one, but it would do. After the burger and chips meal, Dudley had stuck to healthy eating and not thrown up once. Now, he could have something a bit heavier on the stomach and reward himself after working so hard at the school gym.
He devoured the lasagne and garlic bread and moved onto pudding. Dipping his strawberries into the chocolate sauce coating the cake, Dudley sucked the chocolate off and smirked.
'I'm technically eating something healthy, so I win.'
He finished off the strawberries and ate the cake in two bites flat, putting the bowl down and wiping his hands with a spare tissue. The tissue went into the bin and Dudley sank further back into the leather and plump cushions. He stared up at the ceiling, happy feelings that food provided to him clouding his mind, but soon enough, the dreaded urge to throw up crept up his throat. Dudley broke out of his stupor and bolted to his feet. He sprinted towards the nearest communal bathroom and swore under his breath, kicking open the door and dropping to his knees.
He shoved his head in the toilet, closed his eyes and opened his mouth…
The retching was so loud and he dry-heaved, hand scrambling to flush away the last remnants of his recent meal. He shuddered, eyes fluttering open and his hand slipped off of the handle.
"What the fuck, man?!"
That voice. Dudley froze, horrified to have been discovered in a vulnerable position. Slowly, ever so slowly, he shuffled round on his knees, to stare up at Piers. The look on his face made Dudley feel anxious and ashamed. Then, as the two boys continued to stare at each other, Dudley kicked himself for not noticing that he could have been followed. If only he'd looked round when he was running for the bathroom, he would have seen Piers enter the common room, heard him call out for him.
He would have noticed Piers watching him throw up grotesquely into the toilet bowel, bringing up his barely swallowed intake of food. Dudley looked up at Piers and thought:
'How am I going to explain this one?'