Amazingly, for once John was the first one of the five to arrive at school. Walking in across the football field, he could see his circle of influence waiting to admit him. All five of them were, like him, dressed in jeans that could once have been blue, a shirt that no doubt held a pattern at some stage, and a leather coat that had seen much cleaner days. Various bandanas and hats topped off the uniform, baseball boots or work-boots finished them all off, and cigarettes hung from mouths and fingers, the smoke rising into the cold air to signal their defiance of this particular school regulation. He'd never really recognised the uniform before. But suit or sneakers, it's really all the same thing.
John looked at them – Steve, Davey, Frankie, Mike and Rick. All of them, like him, were from the south of town, all better with their hands than with their brains. And all of them, he now realised, were denying in themselves that they are just like every other kid in the whole world, wanting to be left to achieve and then congratulated for their achievements.
"Yo Bender. Where you been, man? Didn't see you last night at the track" called Davey, who like the rest also imagined himself the leader of their small clan.
"Been keeping out of the way" replied John, accepting the light for his cigarette. "The old man really went for it Saturday night, and I just had to clear out. Fuckin' asshole's no use to anyone like that!"
"How was Vernon on Saturday?" asked Rick, who although he was a year younger than the rest was a good six inches taller than them all.
John hesitated, unconsciously reaching up and brushing his hair forwards so that it covered the gleaming diamond in his ear. He didn't want to talk about his time on Saturday, and definitely didn't want to let on about Claire. He still wasn't certain what she thought about everything that happened in school (and definitely what happened in the broom closet) and wouldn't set himself up for ridicule without good reason. "Oh, a Grade-A asshole, as usual. I reckon I'm booked up now for the rest of the semester."
The school bell thankfully cut short any further discussions, and the group began the slow, aimless stroll over to the school buildings. Gradually, they merged with the rest of the faculty, as students of all ages appeared from their various meeting points across the school grounds.
At the front of the school buildings, the line of cars had been steadily building for some time, as those parents whose job, schedule, or desire allowed, dropped their children for school. As each vehicle disgorged its cargo of reluctant, complaining adolescence, groups began to form as like sought out like. The rich kids, the clever kids, the shy, scared kids, each had its own kind, its own group, and safety in numbers brought about the momentum to get through the day. No matter what fate or the teaching staff threw at you, there was always the comfort of knowing that somewhere else in the school, someone else was being screwed over just the same.
Whenever six hundred kids get together in a single corridor, the noise gathers a momentum all of its own. Adults shy away. Animals seek shelter. But students manage to hold continuous, clear conversations without needing to shout. In this, Shermer High School was no different this Monday from any other. In this sea of bad hairstyling and hormones, relationships blossomed and failed, deals were struck and broken, and friendships were sealed and betrayed.
Alison grabbed a couple of books from her locker, and tried to appear as if she was not scanning the crowded corridor for signs of Andrew. She'd taken a middle ground when dressing that morning, and had avoided an all-black outfit. Even this was difficult for her, and she only hoped that her fellow students never found out where she had got her shirt from. Her mother hadn't missed it yet, which was a bonus, because that was a conversation she really didn't want to have just now.
"Hey"
Alison froze. Let me please turn around with some dignity, she pleaded with her body. And then there he was. She still couldn't trust herself to speak, so she just smiled. Let him say something.
Andrew had sought her out before the other wrestlers found him. He'd also prepared everything that he was going to say, right up to the word "Hey". But he realised that she'd stolen the high ground with her smile, and that he would have to make the first move. Otherwise they would stand there forever, smiling at each other like a couple of total dweebs.
"Nice shirt." Awesome, dumbo. Way to go.
"I saw you this morning."
"I didn't think that you were up"
"I'd been waiting for you"
As meaningless conversations go, this one was shaping up very nicely. Andrew lapsed into silence, and left it to Allison to continue. Fortunately, her nerves were now saying that if she stopped talking, she'd never be able to start again.
"I'd not seen you running before. Of course, I'm not often awake that early. I've never been running. Never really wanted to. Do you get lonely, running on your own? 'Cos I could maybe meet you? If you want?"
Allison knew that she was babbling, and sounding ridiculous. So much for her reputation. But she suddenly realised why – she was eight years old again! She always spoke all the time when she was younger. On the rare occasions that her mother was in her time-zone, they talked about the times when her father was home from the Army, and Allison would follow him around all the time, asking all kind of questions, simply to hear his voice when he answered. That was a long time ago, and too much had happened for them to have those times again. But now this was new, and fresh. It was really like her father had come home again.
They had found that quiet, peaceful place again, both thinking many thoughts, saying nothing, and staring into each other's eyes, waiting for the next word. And it was duly supplied.
"Clark! If you don't move your sorry butt, you'll be late for practice!"
At this, Coach's hand landed on his shoulder, and propelled hi off towards the gym. "Sorry, girlie. You'll have to wait" he called back over his shoulder, leaving Allison to stare at the track-suited teacher as he and Andrew strode away down the rapidly emptying corridor.
