Spud (42 page)

I wonder if I will still be in the team next Saturday?

Free bounds. Gecko and I took advantage of the warmer weather and headed up to Hell’s View with our workbooks. (Teachers have been warning us that our examinations are less than a month away.) As per usual we didn’t so much as open a book and spent four hours talking about girls.

Gecko is still madly in love with Christine and seems blissfully unaware that she has been rumoured to be sleeping with every guy in the province (and, if rumours are to be believed, the odd girl as well).

Together we composed a letter to Amanda declaring my love for her but leaving the whole relationship thing in the air. Gecko felt it was important to make the relationship vague enough to prevent anything dramatic from happening. I then felt bad so I wrote another letter
to the Mermaid telling her about our disastrous cricket match yesterday. I told her that I loved her too.

There’s a wicked rumour tearing around the dining hall that Julian and somebody called Warren Normington were bust ‘playing with each other’ in the forest behind the dam during free bounds. All the stories are different – no doubt all shall be revealed.

Boggo reckoned that they were seen from a distance to be playing with each other but Julian has insisted that Normington was attempting to make a hole in his belt buckle. It certainly sounds more than a little dodgy.

06:15   Staggered down to the showers by feel, as my eyes were still stuck fast together with sleep. (In fact I think I was still dreaming when I walked into the showers. Either that or I had somehow been transported to New York!) My eyes opened up fairly quickly after I realised that Pike was pissing on my leg. My initial instinct was to attack him; anger was pumping through my body. Thankfully, I was able to restrain myself because no doubt I would have been beaten to a pulp. Pike then trained his weapon on Boggo and pissed on his back, which was rewarded with much laughter from the older boys in the showers. Boggo swore at Pike who then made Boggo eat a bar of soap for using foul language in the showers. Boggo coughed and choked as he tried to chew on the soap. (Just as well Boggo didn’t see what Pike had done with the soap beforehand!)

13:30   The day certainly improved after a roaring lunch with The Guv who has regained his composure and humour since Saturday. I told him that Dickens is ‘a boring old fart with no writing ability’. I thought The Guv’s eyes would blow straight out of his head. How was I to know that I was insulting one of his top ten great
writers of all time?

The Guv fired back by calling me a ‘malnourished whinging cretin!’

I countered this by accusing Dickens of being a snoring old colonialist! (Linton Austin uses the word ‘colonialist’ as a swear word.)

This was too much for The Guv, who threw a spoon of broccoli at me, and stalked off into his study. He returned with a pile of books and another bottle of Merlot. There followed a series of passages from various Dickens novels.

I continued to remain unimpressed which further stoked The Guv’s outrage. By the end of lunch, my English teacher seemed convinced that my reading age is in single figures. To illustrate his point, he produced a copy of Enid Blyton’s Famous Five and ordered it read within the week. I could see that the old loony was dead serious so with my straightest face I thanked him for lunch and strode back to the house, enjoying the spring sunshine whilst sliding the book under my shirt for fear of discovery.

15:10   Boggo and I sat together on our lockers shining our shoes and all the while complaining about our harsh treatment from the revolting Pike. I was in full swing saying, ‘Pike is a childish, brainless prat who ought to be used as a science experiment…’ when there was a sudden pause. Boggo didn’t answer. I looked up from my black shoes to see a pale-faced Boggo staring past me in horror. I turned to see Pike grinning maliciously behind me. His hands played with something red and shiny – a Swiss army knife.

‘So I’m a childish, brainless prat, am I?’ he asked, still twirling his knife around in his hands.

I froze. I was in trouble, big trouble. If Rambo or Mad
Dog were here I would be fine, but just Boggo and me… I could see in Pike’s green slitty eyes that he wanted me to beg and grovel. Every part of me was telling me to do it – but I couldn’t. I despised this pig too much even to pretend to worship him.

‘You
are
a childish, brainless prat, Pike,’ I said in a desperately squeaky voice. I wished I could have sounded more convincing, but it was the best that I could do with zero confidence, maximum terror and the voice of a girl.

Pike spat a greeny onto Mad Dog’s duvet and started walking slowly towards me, watching me like a hawk. He was covering the exit – there was no escape. There was a flick as the blade of his knife shot out. I jumped down from the locker and faced him down – a ludicrous mismatch.

Boggo was mumbling and moaning now, trying to discourage the psychopath from doing what he loves most. My legs were trembling but I stood my ground.

‘You know, Milton, insulting a senior is a serious offence.’ I stared at him, the snare drum thumping but everything else still.

‘Boggo, get lost,’ said Pike with a scary calmness, like he had planned the whole thing down to the last word. Boggo scuttled out of the dormitory, glad to be free of this horrible maniac. I prayed he would find Rambo or Mad Dog.

In one swift motion, Pike ripped my T-shirt off and threw me back onto my bed. He jumped on top of me, the blade millimetres from my throat. I could smell his foul breath and hear him breathing in short pants. His knife slid down the side of my body. As if by magic a long red line appeared. I heard him gasp as he saw the blood. He was breathing heavily now like Christine did that day in her bedroom. My hands were pinned down, but even if I had been free I’m not sure I could have moved. In horror, I watched him run his tongue over the
long red line of blood. The blood disappeared instantly and then, as if by more magic, appeared again. Now he was looking at me, his mouth full of blood. He moved slowly towards me – was this monster really going to…? His right hand let go of my hand and started moving over my body. He licked my chest, his breathing becoming louder. His hand slid down towards my groin. I screamed and lunged at him with all my power. I could hear voices on the stairway. Pike reared back and spat my blood on the floor.

‘Tell anyone and I’ll kill you, Milton,’ he whispered.

Then he was gone.

Boggo, Gecko and Vern arrived at the door, hardly a terrifying prospect for any attacker. I quickly threw on a jersey and swung my Good Knight duvet over me to cover the blood trickling down my side. I knew then and there that Pike’s attack would remain a secret.

It seems as if Pike is now ignoring me completely and has decided to torment Vern instead. He pushed Rain Man into the urinal after breakfast this morning. Thankfully, my cut is not serious, just a deep scratch. Looks like Pike and I will both pretend that nothing ever happened.

Earthworm said that he hadn’t slept for days and may wake me up in the middle of the night to talk to him and make him sleep. His hands shake terribly and he speaks too fast – I pick up the odd word but continually have to ask him to repeat himself. I wonder if everyone in this place has had enough and is now cracking apart at the seams? What with Vern, Earthworm and Pike losing their marbles it’s surely a matter of time before I strip my clothes off and gallop around the quad neighing and frothing at the mouth like a rabid donkey.

Gavin, the prefect under the stairs, must have been doing something vile in his room because some sweet
smelling smoke crept through the door and hung around the stairwell all afternoon. Couldn’t put my finger on it but the smell was vaguely familiar. Nobody was brave enough to go in and see what he was doing in case they were bitten by Celeste the puffadder. Rambo said he wouldn’t be surprised if his prefect was cooking a rat.

I have come to the realisation that my life is a sane island in a sea of madness. Then again that sounds like something an insane person would say. I look at myself in the mirror all the time just to check for signs of mad eye movements and frothing at the mouth.

As promised, Earthworm woke me up in the middle of the night and ordered me to remake his bed and talk to him until he dropped off to sleep. I didn’t quite know what to talk about so I rattled on about cricket and The Guv. I then made up a whole lot of cricket matches that never really existed. Earthworm would always stop me and ask me technical questions like, ‘What were your bowling figures?’ or ‘Who was umpiring?’ So I had to be on my toes. Eventually, he became quiet and, in the middle of a particularly exciting match of my own creation, he fell asleep.

I shuffled back to the dormitory only to find that now I couldn’t sleep myself. I spent the night reliving exciting cricket matches that never really happened. It’s surely a bad sign when your imagination is far more exciting than your real life.

It’s that time of year again, folks. The weather is warmer, summer is on its way and Rambo is planning another night swim. There was the predictable arguments over
the breakfast table but as usual Rambo won through. Boggo pointed out that both our night swims thus far have been utter disasters. He said the first introduced Fatty’s backside to the school, the second introduced Sparerib to our backsides. Rambo’s response – third time lucky!

23:00   It almost seemed too easy. Out the window, into the chapel, along the aisle, down the steps into the crypt, through the rose garden, over the gate, across The Glock’s garden – under the lemon tree…

Fatty was waiting, already shivering in his shorts and T-shirt. The night was chilly but nobody dared to say so in case they were accused of cowardice. We set off behind Rambo – the Crazy Eight on another crazy mission.

This time there was no snare drum, no terror. In fact I didn’t give a damn. The water was icy. Even Rambo was in and out. Soon we were sprinting back across the field not because of the guard dogs but because of hypothermia.

The rest was easy.

10:00   Our cricket team bounced back with a vengeance to beat Fenston High by ten wickets. I didn’t have to bowl because Steven George and Mad Dog finished them off in 14 overs. The game was over before lunch.

The Mermaid came up with my folks and while they drank up a storm with various teachers I walked her around the school. Everywhere boys would shout or bark or make rude comments, but I didn’t care. The Mermaid is beautiful and she’s my girlfriend. She wanted to see my dormitory but I didn’t take her up – no doubt Boggo would be caught in some obscene position with one of his porno mags.

The Mermaid loved the chapel, especially when I showed her the beam where Macarthur hanged himself. We climbed up to the top of the bell tower from where we surveyed the entire school and looked on down the valley to where fields of cows and rich pastures shone in the warm afternoon sun. We kissed until some rude hooting from the quad broke us apart. Walking down the chapel steps I suddenly had the most overwhelming desire to tell the Mermaid about the Pike attack. I’m sure the memory of it would disappear quicker if I was able to talk to someone about it. The problem is it’s impossible to describe it without making it sound like some perverted psychopathic movie!

The Mermaid cried when we said goodbye and so did Dad – but that was because he had had a couple too many bottles of wine. The station wagon roared off in a puff of smoke and I watched it until it disappeared and then ambled back towards the house wondering if I was feeling happy or not.

I’ve been crowned Stud Milton. The general consensus is that the Mermaid is one of the hottest pieces of ass ever to step on the hallowed grounds of this school. Boggo’s furious that a Spud can actually be a Stud and has offered me R100 for a picture of the Mermaid naked and R200 for her in a leather biker’s outfit. Even Luthuli congratulated me on my catch. I tried to be modest but good things seldom happen around here so you might as well enjoy them while they last.

20:00   I carried my newfound arrogance into the African Affairs meeting and was extremely vocal about the issue of corrupt black African dictators. Unfortunately, it was unanimously agreed that I was way out of my league and I was ordered to sit down and shut up. Nothing like
some stinging criticism from Linton Austin to put you in your place!

Gavin, the prefect under the stairs, has been rushed to hospital after Celeste the puffadder bit him on the bum. Rambo reckons his prefect was sleeping with it in his bed and rolled on it by mistake during his afternoon nap. He told Sister Collins that he sat on it during free bounds!

13:30   The Guv and his wife must have just had a savage fight. As I arrived at his house, her car sped down the driveway and then screeched down the road. Inside The Guv was picking up the last few pieces of the broken plates. An empty bottle of wine lay smashed on the kitchen floor and a freshly opened bottle of red lay waiting on the table.

I offered to help and then to leave, but The Guv insisted that I stay. We sat down and began a bizarre conversation about Enid Blyton. I’ve finished Famous Five but had to read it in secrecy. (It wouldn’t do for the major scholarship winner to be caught reading Enid Blyton, never mind the fact that it nearly crept into the Milton top ten!) The Guv drank heavily and continued to sing Blyton’s praises until he admitted to having a bizarre attraction to the old bat.

He then became totally morbid, predicting the end of his marriage (his third). He looked at me with his bulging bloodshot eyes and said, ‘Milton, if I can offer you one piece of advice in your dealings with the unfairer sex – honesty, honesty, honesty, honesty! Avoid it at all costs! Lie through your teeth at every turn and you’ll get away with it. When you finally get caught out, pretend you’re mad and develop a drinking problem.’