CRAIG
CRAIG
"Which of you boys would like to explain what on earth that was out there, then?"
Marley Higher's Principal sits behind his desk, arms folded across its mahogany surface, his stern frown sliding from Gary to me and back again. He has thinning brown hair and a bulbous nose, and his silver tiepin is shaped like a pencil. I know very little else about the man.
This is my first time in Principal Cutter's office since I enrolled here. I've never caused trouble on college grounds before. I stand stiffly on the opposite side of the desk, and it's a struggle to hold his gaze, but I'd much rather look at him than turn to the fellow miscreant standing beside me.
Gary seems perfectly at ease, his challenging stare boring into the side of my head. He is well aware that I won't speak.
What would my answer be? That Gary was waiting for me at my locker, savagely outing me to Naz and several other classmates in the vicinity? That I tried to walk away, only for him to start bad-mouthing Sebastian. And Ashleigh. And even Judy, calling her such foul names with such cruel amusement that I snapped? It was me who threw the first punch, a blow that landed this time, my fist striking his jaw. It was also me who had to be physically restrained when our altercation got broken up.
My arm still hurts from being twisted behind my back, and a spot of my blood marks the Principal's crisp white shirt.
"It was nothing," Gary breaks the silence. "Right, Craig? Just a joke that went too far."
I glance down at my busted knuckles, pressing my lips tight. I think of the look I saw on Naz's face as I was dragged away along the hall and the way he quickly averted his eyes. My nod is barely a twitch.
Principal Cutter sighs, entirely unconvinced. "Your parents have been contacted," he says. "They're on their way. I would like for us to make some progress here before they arrive."
The tick of the clock above the door is obnoxiously loud—twenty past two. We've been in here for the longest seven minutes of my life already. Progress is not being made.
And it doesn't take much more time for Cutter to realise this. "Right. Well." His attention drops to a neat stack of papers on the polished desktop. "The two of you can wait outside, please, and I suggest you both give the matter some further thought." Pulling the stack toward him, he uncaps his pen. "Miss Pembrose will keep an eye on you."
"Yes, Sir." Gary immediately bulls past me for the door, and he half-shuts it in my face as I follow him out.
Sprawling himself across the bench seat opposite, he grins at me. "Miss P will have your balls if you're thinking of trying for round two, Lawton."
Behind the reception desk, Miss Pembrose ignores us just as wilfully as I feign study of the news and announcements on the bulletin board. Not another word is spoken. Time crawls from minute to minute…
One.
Nine.
Fourteen.
Twenty-two.
It's the Tinwells who appear first, accosting Gary without hesitation. Kathryn tuts as she tilts his head to examine the faint red splotch marring his jaw. A quiet pride swells my chest.
My parents show up barely five minutes later. While Mum fixes me with a death stare, Dad strides directly for Miss Pembrose. I watch as they exchange a few words—Dad coaxing a flustered smile from her with his most genial tone—and then she makes a quick call before raising her voice to address us. "You're all welcome to head straight through."
Kathryn and Mum take the lead, looking set to wage war. Louis seizes Gary's arm, and Dad hustles me in ahead of him. Our mothers swiftly claim the two chairs at the desk, leaving the rest of us to fan out behind them.
"I have my youngest son to collect from nursery in forty minutes,” Mum doesn’t waste any time. “So, if we could keep this as brief as possible, I think we would all appreciate it.” She's perched ramrod straight, clutching her handbag on her knee. “You said on the phone they’re in trouble for fighting?"
“Indeed,” Principal Cutter inclines his head, only looking up from his papers at the snick of the door closing behind Dad. "Thank you for coming in on such short notice." He sets down his pen, and he doesn't smile. “But how smoothly this can be resolved, Mrs Lawton, is very much dependent on a better understanding of the cause.”
"We’ll be here all night," Gary mumbles under his breath, just loud enough for his dad and me to hear, standing to either side of him. Louis glances disapprovingly at him, and he sniggers. "I’m not leaving without an apology. That's all I'm saying."
My gaze drops to the silver-framed photo set prominently on the desk’s left-side corner. It's one of only two personal effects on display, an oddly endearing image of a grinning man and a German Shepherd wearing matching bowties. I then blink across to the other, a decorative peacock quill standing proud and pretty on its far right as Cutter continues. "Young Craig is an exemplary student. He's bright and hard-working, and he conducts himself well," his praise fails to land on receptive ears. "A real credit to the college. That his actions this afternoon were so markedly out-of-character raises significant conce—"
"Craig attacked my son!" Kathryn vehemently objects. "And not for the first time, either. What more is there to understand?"
"This behaviour is not as out-of-character for him as he'd have you believe," Mum’s prompt to follow, troubled by no obligation to defend me.
"It's not that he's a bad kid," Louis chips in. "Bad judgment is his trouble."
I want to bolt so bad my feet are itching. It’s what I do, after all, what I’ve always done. This meeting could proceed just fine in my absence. Who's at fault is not up for debate, and the worst of it is, there’s nothing else I could’ve duped myself into anticipating. I want to flee out the door and not look back.
Then it’s Dad’s turn. "With respect, Principal Cutter,” he says, and I can’t help but stiffen as he moves in closer to my side. “It seems a little unnecessary to make anything more of the regrettable disturbance than boys being boys." Ever the great pretender, his frown sweeps from Gary to me like there can be no reasonable doubt. "These two, they're always butting heads, and I think, perhaps, this matter would be best dealt with at home, in private.”
The Principal releases a deep breath. "I see." He takes a moment to clear his throat, and there’s something about the way he’s studying me that I’m aware of even without raising my eyes; something in the subtle quirk of his lips or in the shrewd curve of his brow that reminds me of Judy’s discerning intensity. The thought of her and what she would be thinking if she were here, hearing this, makes my stomach churn. "Master Lawton?"
“Sir?”
“Do you, perhaps, have anything yet to say?"
It wasn’t until the fight had broken out that Cutter arrived on the scene, and the clusters of spectating students all-too-readily scarpered at his intervention. He didn’t witness my determined efforts to walk away, nor did he catch the antagonism I’d finally cracked under. And, unsurprisingly, nobody he’s invited into this room is offering a single damn word in my favour. As far as he can possibly be concerned, the finger of blame points solely at me.
I imagine Judy might well be disappointed that I'd given in to violence, triggering my own trap. Ashleigh, too, I'm sure, although she'd unlikely need any explanation of the cause.
Gary's smirk is a scalding brand on the side of my face, daring me to snitch on even one vile name he’d slung. “Like I’ve already said,” he starts.
“He deserved it, Sir,” I don’t let him finish. "He’s a bigoted bully and a sleazy creep." The admission rolls off my tongue almost before I think to make it, and a wild beat of panic thrashes my chest. "I shouldn't have hit him, I know. But, trust me, he deserved it."
"Son," Dad's low warning prickles my skin. His reach for my shoulder pulls up short, his hand dropping like a brick. Louis sputters, and Kathryn's stupefied outrage pins me at the same time as Mum shoves back her chair, bolting to her feet with a shrill, "WHAT?"
"He's outed me twice, and—"
"That's bull!" Gary recovers enough to bark. He doesn't sound smug anymore, his glower feeling hell-bent on setting me ablaze.
Yet, still, I can also feel the fervent touch of hazel eyes on me, calloused hands and rough lips anchoring me to the stand I'd sworn to take.
And I'm way too far in to back down now. "He got kicked out of his last school after he attempted to force himself on a girl." I don't glance Gary’s way. Instead, I straighten my spine and lift my head, fully facing Cutter's inscrutable stare. "He blackmails me, copies my work, and cheats off my tests, too, Sir. He's been making my life unbearable for years."
There’s absolutely no chance in hell I’m about to let Gary see me blanch. Because screw him. To hell with his games and his taunts and his threats. To hell with my parents, acting like my big reveal is such an almighty shock. Screw it all.
The clock hands tick to three and twelve. I know this without looking. A bell chimes through the building beyond the office door, marking the end of day, and the muffled sounds of students emptying from classrooms into the halls immediately follow it.
Within this room, the Principal, alone, appears unmoved. "Well, then." He doesn't raise his voice over the din. And he doesn't add anything further for a long while, glancing at each of us in turn. "This institution does not tolerate discriminatory abuse, harassment, or indeed, bullying of any kind," he says, at last, to no one in particular. "As I'm sure you are all aware.” Then, to me, “These are serious allegations you’ve made, Craig.”
“It’s the truth.”
My mum is abrupt in putting her back to me, a stifled sob piercing deep as she takes hold of Kathryn's hand. My peripheral catches Louis' purposeful shift to block me from his son's sight, his eyes downcast. While Dad's silence at my side feels ever more like the thick moment before a storm.
But my focus holds firm. “Can I go now?” I ask. “Please, Sir?”
A soft hum slips from Cutter’s throat. “You have certainly given me much to deliberate,” he replies.
And at the barest nod of his head, I’m already on the move when Kathryn erupts. “I beg your pardon?”
She cuts in so sharply that even Dad flinches. "The only issue to deliberate here is his attack on my son! Within the walls of this institution, within your duty of care. You cannot seriously be giving him a pass ?"
“Mrs Tinwell,” the Principal is swift to collect himself. “I do, of course, intend to speak with the other students present at this afternoon’s incident.” His placating smile does nothing to soften the solemnity of his face, and Kathryn appears no-less-eager to blow. “However,” he holds up a hand. “I would be remiss to detain the boy and his parents beyond reason, and I am disinclined to consider any further action against him today.”
By my count, I’ve been permitted to escape twice now. I’m within reach of the door, and I don’t intend to risk a third-pitch change of mind.
Except…
“Craig?”
Goddamnit!
I only half turn around. “Sir?”
Neither of my parents looks prepared to follow me, nor are they watching me leave. Mum and Kathryn have their heads bowed close. Dad is muttering in a hushed tone to Louis. It hurts no less for being expected. But for once—the first time in what feels like forever—I’m at least relieved from Gary’s gloating sneer.
Principal Cutter toys with the gold band on his ring finger, his frown seeming to pinch tighter still. My eyes flick once again to the picture on his desk. “Thank you," he jars me. "For speaking up. I understand the nerve it must have taken you, and I commend you for it.”
"I, uh, appreciate your understanding." My response is hesitant, my voice shaky. "Sir."
“But we may need to discuss this again tomorrow; bear that in mind. And in the future, please, I would rather you bring a problem to my attention without using your fists."
“Yes, Sir.”
Closing the office door behind me, I walk through the halls, past lockers and classrooms and step out the main entrance into the crisp, fresh air. Only then do I allow myself a moment to breathe. A rainbow arches faintly across the faraway horizon—or perhaps I’m imagining it—and there’s not a single doubt in my mind that my future here is non-existent.
Because I'm done…
I'm done with Marley Higher and all it epitomises, everything that makes me feel confined.
No impulse strikes me to glance back at the campus as I jog away across the courtyard for the last time, nor to admire its grounds, dodging the few loitering groups of students whose names I never cared to know. I break into a sprint at the welcome sight of Roxy in her favoured parking spot, and I slide behind her wheel like I'm aiming for a personal best.
"Hey, Lawton!" The engine is already revving when I hear Naz's call. "Wait up!"
My one friend in this place crosses the two rows of cars between his and mine; I catch sight of him through my wing mirror. That fleeting glance is all I spare to decide I should definitely not be waiting. Yet, as though he figured as much, too soon, his hasty approach cuts me off from an escape.
I hold out for several taps on the glass before I lower my window. "What?"
"Whoa, hey." Dropping down to a squat, Naz folds his gangly arms along the empty frame and rests his chin on his hands. "I hoped I'd catch you."
Admittedly, he doesn't look ready to hate-bash my face. But, "Why?"
"Because, man, hell if I’m not legit still reeling from that shitshow I witnessed today! You have a mean right hook. Seriously.”
My brows pinch tighter. “Okay…?”
“So, are you in trouble for it?”
"Uh, no. Not really." Not until I get home, at least.
"Yeah, Cutter's pretty decent."
"He is." Sympathetic to my situation, too, I suspect.
“But, hey, just so you know, in case you need it spelt out, I couldn’t give a single flying fuck where you choose to poke your prick, okay?”
"Oh. Kay… good. That's —"
“You should also know that if Tinwell ever requires another right hook in the gob, I’ll happily pin his arms while you deliver it.”
“— Wow.” The giddy flutters in my chest are absurd, and my tone sounds far less mocking than I’d like when I add, "Thanks, that’s so super sweet of you to say.”
He grins at me, straightens up, and pats Roxy's hood. "Anytime, Craigy-boy. Anytime."
I watch Naz walk away back to his car before I delve into the glove box to retrieve my phone.
Unsurprisingly, the only notifications on its screen are junk email and an hour-old, missed call from Dad.
I pull up Alex's number and press call. On the sixth ring, his voicemail kicks in.
"Hey, Al," I say after the beep. It's not like I expected him to pick up anyway. "I'm gay. I've just told Mum and Dad… sort of, so there's every chance I might be homeless tonight. I’ve finally clouted the smug look off Gary’s face, too, though. So, there’s that. It feels unreal to be done with all the bullshit at long last. Give me a call back if you're at all interested in supporting me during this difficult and exhilarating time of need."