That night, Rimmer hobbled to his dormitory, sore, bruised, confused and disgraced. Today had been horrible for Rimmer,

he had failed English,

been caned in maths

knocked off his feet with a stray rugby ball in P.E,

and then he had a detention with his chemistry teacher Mrs Hanson, for accidentally knocking over a flask of acid, when someone had hit him of the back of the head. He had tried to explain that it wasn't his fault, but he gave up.

The teachers hated him, the pupils hated him even more, the only thing in the school that didn't hate him was the class hamster Speedy, who would often snap at Rimmer's fingers for no apparent reason.

'Life' thought Rimmer 'sucks' He was about to climb into bed, to rest his aching limbs, sore hands, and tense neck, when he remembered he had maths work to do, he reluctantly grabbed his school bag, and headed for the library.

Rimmer awoke the next day feeling fresher, brighter and more hopeful. Today was the last day of the spring term, and at 4 o' clock today, Rimmer would be going home for 2 weeks, for the Easter holidays.

He needed some time away from this hellhole of a school, away from the bullies and the teachers. Over breakfast Rimmer couldn't help smiling, but his mood dramatically changed. There was a new boy at school, he was every girls dream boy, he was handsome, athletic, brave, he immediately fell in with the right people and he became popular in less then a day, and in less than an hour, he became Rimmer's enemy. Rimmer frowned and lowered his eyes to his bowl of cereal,

"Mornin' Bonehead!" laughed the new boy,

"Morning" Rimmer said with false cheeriness, before muttering under his breath "hair flicking tosser!"

He hated popular people, he didn't always, but now, it was second nature. Popular people will do anything to keep hold of their power, be it by ditching all of their longest and dearest friends or by acting hard by bulling others, and once people get onto the popularity roller coaster, its hard to get off.

Rimmer chewed his cereal thoughtfully, as he remembered Elizabeth. A girl he had met one day in Io Park when he was skiving off, and he fell instantly in love with her. She was kind, funny, sensitive, and a victim of bullies, just like him. She went to the only all girls school in Io, but before Rimmer could see her, and tell her how he truly felt, she was expelled, and her parents moved, taking the love of his life with them. Rimmer woke up each day, and blamed himself, he blamed himself for being stupid, and not telling her how he felt from the off, he told himself he was worthless because he didn't get there in time. This meant that before Rimmer had even had his breakfast, he was drowning in a sea of darkness and despair. All day, every day.

The shrill school bell signalled the end of breakfast, and the students dispersed into their appropriate classrooms. Rimmer sighed, and tugged his bag down the corridor, his first lesson was English, and no doubt he'd be in trouble-again, for not doing his work. Rimmer took a deep breath and prepared to face the music.

Rimmer raced out of Io house as fast as his spinally legs would carry him; he jumped joylessly through the gates, and smiled. Freedom, for a fortnight. His parents had apologised for not coming to pick him up, but his mother had to work and his father was picking up John from the airport. Rimmer didn't mind, nothing could spoil his mood.

He walked lazily along the smart terraced streets, until he arrived at his house. Rimmer shielded his eyes from the sun, and looked up at it. It looked like a plain, ordinary family suburban house, but to Rimmer, it was a place connected with countless memories. Some good, some bad. He smiled as happily as he could, and knocked on the door, he saw his mother scuttling down the hall,

"Here's my big, brave boy" she cooed excitedly as she flung open the door, smiling, arms open for a warm hug, when she saw it was Rimmer, he face fell, "Oh Hello Arnold, I didn't think you'd be here so soon."

Rimmer could detect a slight hint of acid in her voice, he shifted nervously from foot to foot, wondering what he could say when his mother suddenly screamed

"JOHN!" she cried, barging past Rimmer, she ran down the drive and wrapped her arms round her eldest son kissing him, "ooh John" she said, eyeing him up and down "Haven't you grown!"

Rimmer felt the old 'twinge of jealousy' begin to rekindle, he hated John, he hated all of his brothers, they were so unlike him, so polite, so smart so...perfect.

John walked up the garden path, chatting happily to his mother and father about how well he was doing at the Space Corps and how much money he had, it was only when he reached the front door, did he notice his youngest brother, scowling at him.

"Arn" he said smiling at his brother, wrapping him into a tight hug. For anyone that was watching, they would have thought that John was showing his brotherly love; only this was not the case. John had cleverly disguised his hatred towards Rimmer; he had dug his nails forcefully into Rimmer's back, before giving him a hard thump, which knocked the wind out of Rimmer. He then pulled away, smiling but wearing eyes that said 'tell a soul and your dead!'

"Well Arnold" snapped his mother "don't you have something to say to your brother?" "No" replied Rimmer moodily,

"Arnold-" said his mother, raising her finger, and getting ready to nag,

"Leave it Mother," said John, taking hold of her hand and lowering it, "he's obviously intimidated by me being here, he's not seen me in ages, and he feels inferior!" '

What' screamed a little voice in Rimmer's head 'where the hell did he get that from? Inferior to him, a stupid, poncy git! As If!'

"He's worried that he'll never meet up to our standards and will live in the shadow of me, and Howard and Frank," continued John.

Rimmer glared at John, who was smiling a smile, only Rimmer could spot; he barged past him, and ran up the stairs. Rimmer yanked open his bedroom door, and slammed it with such force that the pictures that lined the hall shook, he threw himself down on his bed, and began exhaling angrily.

Then he realised something was different. His room. They'd changed his room. All his pictures, books, toys-gone, they'd even re-decorated it.

Rimmer couldn't hold it in any longer, he began to cry. The room was bland; the sort of place you'd put unwanted guests for the night. There was only one picture in the room, a huge frame that dominated the west wall, Rimmer wiped his blurry eyes, and walked over to inspect it.

It was a family portrait, of his family, there was his dad, looking proud, and the figure of authority, his mother, smiling, John, Frank, Howard...and no him. Rimmer clenched his fists in fury; they'd had a family portrait done, without him. The portrait showed the ideal family, a mother, a father and 3 handsome, smart heroic young boys.

There was no room in the perfect family for a screw up, a failure, a wimp, and a bonehead. Rimmer let out a scream and grabbed the frame of the portrait and threw it to the floor, where it smashed into a thousand pieces. Rimmer stood, quiet shocked by his show of aggression and strength, he suddenly realised what he'd done when the sound of his parents footsteps pounded on the stairs.

His father was the first to enter; he looked at Rimmer then at the broken portrait. His mother came rushing in next, and when she saw what Rimmer had done, she gave a little cry, and put her hand over her mouth.

Needless to say John, Frank and Howard were all gathered by the doorway, shaking their heads and grinning. Rimmer's anger built up again,

"Why wasn't I on it?" he screamed at the top of his lungs,

"You were at school, we couldn't have brought you out to have a family portrait could we" snapped his mother.

"Yes you could," cried Rimmer, beginning to cry, "its not that far away, you could have had it done on a Saturday!" "

Talk sense, boy," yelled his father,

"I am" Rimmer yelled back "do you not consider my part of this family?"

No one answered

"Do you?" asked Rimmer taking a step towards them,

"yes, of course" his mother replied, her voice unusually high,

"Then why have a family portrait done, with a member of the family missing," cried Rimmer, his vision was going all blurry and his heart was begging to ache. "Are you ashamed of me?" he asked,

"No" replied his father "but the way you're acting now, it's a wonder we're not ashamed of you"

Rimmer ran forward, his small, bony hands curled up into fists, he wanted to hit his father, he wanted to tear him limb from limb, something that he's been wanting to do for ages.

His father was quiet taken aback by Rimmer's punches, usually the boy was timid, frail and fearing of his father, it took a few seconds for his father to respond. He hit Rimmer.

Not a smack,

not a light tap,

but a punch, a strong punch, right on the side of the face. I

t sent Rimmer toppling to the floor, he gasped and held his cheek, he stared up at his father, with a face that said 'why', his father stone-eyed glare didn't waver, he grunted before striding down the stairs, and away from his pathetic excuse for a son.

John, Howard and Frank followed, leaving Rimmer alone with his mother, and the destroyed portrait.

"Mum..." he said softly, holding out a hand to her, with pleading eyes. His mother shook her head sadly, and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her, and turning the key, locking him in.