Face (11 page)

Monday morning was bright and sunny. Martin woke up to the smell of toast and the sound of the multitude of birds that ate, sang and danced in his back garden. Breakfast was as breakfast on school days used to be. His father ate too quickly and then rushed out of the house to catch his train whilst his mother tried throughout breakfast to convince his father to slow down. Martin, unable to understand why anyone would want to rush to a building to assemble radiators, ate his toast and wheatflakes without taking his eyes off the football magazine he was reading. When Natalie, Mark and Matthew turned up, it was like old times. His mother kissed him on the cheek and told him to take care of himself but she said nothing out of the ordinary. Martin was aware of this, and as they walked to school together, Martin was also aware of how ordinarily the other three were acting. But once they came out of the side street and on to the High Street things changed.

Martin immediately noticed people looking at him. Matthew struck up a conversation about the last day of school the term before, when Mark was licked by Jennifer Hamilton. Martin tried to involve himself but he was too busy watching people watching him and trying not to catch people's eyes at the same time. Martin could sense how many things had changed. He realised that he was no longer leading the gang, that the attention of the others was not gravitating towards him. He was not playing his usual tricks. Only halfway to school and it was the furthest Martin had walked for over a month. He could not tell who was staring or who was simply going about their business and just looking where they were going. He couldn't help thinking that everyone had read the papers, that everyone was staring. The people on the streets, the people in the shops, the people on the buses, the people in cars, all of them were looking at him.

Most of the pupils at Eastmorelands School had already heard about the accident from the press or their parents and friends, so when Martin arrived at the school, most made an effort not to make him feel uncomfortable. They arrived just as the bell rang, so they went straight into morning assembly. Religious assemblies had been stopped many years before at Eastmorelands. Assemblies now could be anything from a poetry reading to a story with a moral, or the headmistress waxing lyrical about how great the
school could be if they all lived in unity and stopped chewing gum in class. Today she spoke of new beginnings. The way a day breaks, the way a seed germinates, the way you pick yourself up, dust yourself off and move forward. She spoke of these things with regard to the new term, and the new pupils, but Martin couldn't help feeling that much of what she said was said with him in mind.

In registration Mr Lincoln welcomed the class back and reminded them of the examinations they were soon to be having. ‘I know it's been a difficult time for some of you but I do hope that some thought and study has been achieved over the holiday.'

Once again Martin thought that this was said with him in mind.
Who else has had a difficult time?
he asked himself. He for one had done absolutely no study. He had given the forthcoming examinations no thought. The class was a very different class now. Mark and Martin sat in their usual seats, well away from each other, but there were none of the usual wisecracks from Martin. His jokes were conspicuous by their absence, and the sound of laughter and Mr Lincoln's bellowing voice was replaced by an uncharacteristic order. Everyone, even Mr Lincoln, was on their best behaviour.

Martin's first full lesson was Science. He hated Science at the best of times and for his first lesson he would
have preferred something a bit less interactive, an easier lesson where he would be able to relax and observe.

Once the class had settled, Mrs Malcolm the Science teacher announced, ‘Today we shall be looking at why some materials dissolve in water and why others do not. First we shall be conducting some simple experiments, followed by a discussion about the results of these experiments. In order to carry out the experiments I need you to split up into pairs. Could you do that quickly and quietly now, please.'

The sound of whispers and shuffling chairs filled the room as people tried to pair up with their friends. Martin sat still. Neither Mark, Natalie or Matthew was in this lesson. Martin knew most of the pupils but he wasn't going to go looking for a partner. For a while he sat thinking that he would be the last to pair off when he was approached by Simon Hill. He was a thin ginger-haired boy who was known as ‘the babble-mouth' because of his ability to speak volumes of rubbish.

‘Me and you, Martin, yeah. Me and you, OK?'

‘Yeah, that's cool,' Martin replied, although Simon wouldn't have been Martin's first choice for a partner.

Once the beakers, the jugs of water and the various other materials needed for the experiments were passed around, they began to follow the instructions of Mrs Malcolm. There were low level conversations
going on between most of the pupils as tablets of salt, sugar and a variety of sodiums were added to water. Simon talked trivia relentlessly.

‘On the way to school this morning I saw a red Ferrari, man, big wheels, sounded like a rocket, guy. Lee Hendrie, he plays for Aston Villa, he got a red Ferrari too. I saw a black one once but they're not as good as red ones, I don't think. If I was going to get a black car, I'd get a Porsche 911, they're good in black, but Ferraris should be red. What do you reckon?'

‘Yeah, you're right. Ferraris are best red.' Martin was not very enthusiastic. He did use to love red Ferraris but his love of cars had brought him enough trouble. But Simon continued.

‘Yeah, man, when I get the chance I'm going to get a red Ferrari but if I get married and my bird wants a Porsche, I'll get a black one to keep her happy like, you know – girls like Porsches. I saw a wicked video last night, it was called
Fearless Mind
. It was about a man who didn't like nobody, man. He killed thirty people in thirty minutes, but he didn't kill just one person a minute. Sometimes he killed no one for a few minutes, then he killed lots of people in one minute. It was good, blood everywhere. There was one bit when the star, his name was Fearless, well, he put his gun up this other man's nostril and blew his brains out.'

Martin had now heard enough. He wasn't going to
create a disturbance but he felt he had to put a stop to Simon's out of control babbling.

‘Listen, I don't wanna know 'bout any film. Give it a rest. Let's just do our work.'

‘Yeah, you're right,' Simon replied. ‘Let's work. But I'm telling you, I don't mind sitting by you and working with you, not like some people. I don't care if you look a bit poxy.'

Martin was filled with rage; his eyes watered with anger. He felt his temperature rise, as he stepped back and looked Simon up and down in disgust.

‘Who you calling poxy?'

Simon backed off. ‘I know you're not poxy. I just said I don't care if you look a bit poxy.'

Martin couldn't control himself any longer. He threw a punch that connected with Simon's chin and sent him over the table they were using. The paraphernalia that was on the table flew in all directions, causing some pupils to dive for cover. Martin wasted no time. He dived on Simon and a rolling scrap ensued.

Mrs Malcolm screamed at the top of her voice. ‘Stop it at once, you two,' but they continued. Eventually Mrs Malcolm and some of the pupils managed to get in between the tables and separate the pair.

Martin's hand was in great pain from the first blow he threw, as was Simon's chin. There were no major
injuries but both of them were soaked with water from the experiments and needed to be held apart from each other.

‘I'll kill you,' Martin fumed.

‘I'll kill you first – no, I don't even need to kill you. You'll kill yourself because you're a drug head guy and everyone knows you take drugs – you're a loser.'

The veins on Martin's neck stood out. He surged forward towards Simon kicking tables and chairs as he went, in an amazing burst of aggression. ‘I'll kill you. I ain't no drug head, you don't know anything about me. I'll tear you apart.'

Martin had found extra strength but Mrs Malcolm and her helpers managed to hold Martin back. Even he realised that the rage he had unleashed was awesome.

Mrs Malcolm shouted at the top of her voice, ‘Right, Simon Hill, go and stand outside the classroom door until I'm ready for you.'

Martin was sat down and allowed to cool.

By the time the classroom floor had been cleared and tables and chairs put back into place, the lesson was nearly over. Simon and Martin were ordered to see the headmistress at lunch time and they went their ways. For Martin's next lesson, English, he was reunited with Mark and Matthew.

As they entered the classroom, Mark asked Martin, ‘What happened in Science, man?'

‘Simon Hill, man. That weird kid – upset me big time.'

‘What did he do?' Matthew asked.

‘I'll tell you later,' Martin said as they went to their seats.

At lunch time Simon and Martin waited outside the headmistress's office. They were both tense – not a single word was said by either of the boys. They totally ignored each other. Then Mrs Powell the headmistress called them into her office.

‘The first hour of the first morning of the new term and we already have a fight in school – we certainly cannot continue in this manner,' she told the boys as they both gazed towards their shoes. ‘So what happened?'

Simon told his side of the story in his roundabout way and then Martin told his. Both were accurate accounts of the event from their own points of view. Mrs Powell walked over to the boys and stood at arm's length in front of them. ‘Now, Simon, you and everyone else have to understand that Martin has no disease and no one in school or out of school has ever found Martin carrying drugs. If that rumour is going around the school it must stop.'

She looked towards Martin. ‘And you, Martin, you have to control your temper. People may say all kinds of things. People will react to you in different ways
but you cannot go hitting everybody who upsets you. Mr Green from the hospital and Mr Lincoln your form teacher have both told you and now I'm telling you. If you need help, come to one of us.'

‘But miss … ' Martin protested. ‘It's not me that needs help, it's him and his big mouth. He needs help.'

‘Martin,' Mrs Powell interrupted, ‘under the circumstances I'm going to let you both off. We'll just call it a misunderstanding, shall we?'

‘Yes, miss,' Simon replied.

‘Yes, miss,' said Martin.

‘But don't let it happen again. I don't want to see either of you in my office for the rest of the term. Now shake hands and go to lunch.'

Martin and Simon shook hands slowly and cautiously, without looking directly at each other or saying a word.

In the dining hall Martin still felt staring eyes upon him. He sat in the safe company of Mark, Matthew and Natalie and outside in the playground he stayed with them. Most of the pupils were polite and were trying to show Martin that they were still his friends. Some were just too polite. Either way Martin was very aware that he was being treated differently. He survived the rest of the day by getting on with his work and trying to ignore the sights and sounds
around him. It was a long day.

As he was leaving school that afternoon with Mark, Matthew and Natalie, Natalie asked him what had happened in the Science lesson. Martin told them the story. All three were surprised. ‘I've never seen you have a scrap,' Natalie said.

‘Well, you've never seen me stuck with Simon Hill,' Martin replied.

As they walked down the street, Martin was approached by a girl. He had seen her a couple of times before in school but he had never spoken to her.

‘Hello, Martin,' she said. ‘I just wanted to give you this.'

She handed him an envelope and walked away. Martin could see it was a card and so could Natalie. ‘Aren't you going to open it then?' Natalie said suspiciously.

‘Later.' Martin put it in the inside pocket of his jacket and his friends walked him to his house before going their separate ways.

When Martin arrived home he opened the envelope in his bedroom. Without even opening the card to see the name of the girl, he threw the card in the bin in a moment of hurt and anguish and shouted, ‘I'm not ill – I'm not bloody ill.' The front of the card said
Get Well Soon
.

One day in school had taught Martin a lot. That evening he listened to no music, and he spent no time looking at pictures of footballers. Instead he spent the whole evening in his room in quiet contemplation. He was now beginning to look at
himself
in before and after terms. Ever since he had first woken up in hospital after the accident, he had begun to listen to a voice of reason in his head. It was an honest voice, a voice that had nothing to gain by taking sides. Back then it had started as a whisper but now the voice was loud.

Knowing that he had hundreds of days left to attend school, he began his meditation by asking himself one question.
How can I improve on today?
He considered the Simon Hill affair and promised himself not to lose his temper if he ever got into a similar situation. He thought about what Mrs Powell had said in morning assembly and what Mr Lincoln had said in registration, then he promised himself that he wouldn't read too much into people's words. He thought,
maybe they weren't talking about me.
And
maybe
, he thought,
all those people in the streets and their cars, and on the buses, maybe they weren't all looking at me
. He walked over to the full-length mirror on his wardrobe and looked at himself.
So what if they
were
looking at me?
he asked himself.
Two months ago, if I'd seen me looking like I look now, I would have had a good look. Be honest, Mr Martin Turner, you would have probably made some remark, or even cracked a joke with your friends.