Revenge Ritual
Micki was trying his best not to cry. They had pinned him down on the floor and were forcing the contents of the nearest waste bin into his mouth. He’d tried wriggling and resisting but the movement made him choke. Gasping for breath and feeling hot tears run down his face, he knew it was going to get worse.
One of the gang shouted, ‘Eat that you mother fucker,’ while he poured something vile down his throat forcing him to swallow it.
The other kids from his class stood round cheering and mocking or shouting ‘Yes, Miss Blundell.’
‘I love you Miss Blundell.’
‘Can I fuck you Miss Blundell?’
‘Oh, you’re so tasty teacher.’
Just when Micki thought he was going to pass out everything went very quiet. He opened his eyes and saw the youth with the purple hair and t-shirt being hauled away from him.
He was relieved to hear a familiar and authoritative voice ring out somewhere above his head, ‘Everyone, stay where you are.’ But the echo of feet running away down the corridor suggested most of the onlookers had disobeyed.
Mr Trevelyan bent down to lift Micki’s head off the ground and started scooping the shit out of his mouth. Then whispered, ‘Don’t worry, I know who they are. They won’t be doing that again.’
Micki knew he meant well but wasn’t convinced. Mr T was doing his best to put a stop to the gangs at school but even he looked defeated when he’d called all the students together and told them, violence wouldn’t be tolerated and there would be penalties for bullies, as if he knew it wouldn’t make any difference.
As Mr T helped him to his feet, Micki spat out the last smelly mouthful and allowed Mr T to guide him onto a chair. He handed Micki a handkerchief that smelt of washing powder to wipe his face, then offered him some water from the drinks machine.
‘Feeling better now?’ Mr T asked.
Apart from some bruises, a sore mouth and the deep humiliation, Micki felt alright.
He tried to say this but went into a spasm of coughing.
‘So it’s still happening?’
Micki just nodded, and Mr T said he would take him home. He tried to say no, he’d be fine, but Mr T insisted he needed to tell his father what had happened. Micki knew his pa would be out working on the building site but he didn’t argue. He lay curled up in the back of Mr T’s car as they drove out of the school car park, his eyes tightly closed.
As they arrived at the builders’ hostel in Salterton Avenue where Micki lived, Mr T looked round, ‘Those boys who attacked you. They go to Kidpower, don’t they?
Micki didn’t say anything. He was in enough trouble just being himself without being thought a grass.
He hated his weekly visits to Kidpower more than going to school. It was a place full of gang scum. It was where he’d been sent for some ‘therapy’ with Mr T, which was supposed to stop him thieving. Mr T was trying to help but he didn’t get it. He had to steal. Connor and his cronies would have made his life more miserable if he turned up at Kidpower empty handed. A part of him hoped he would get caught again. Then his pa would have to send him home to Poland. But it wasn’t so bad now Mr T was his mentor as well as his teacher. He liked Mr T, who tried to stop the kids at school getting at him, and these days Pa was so hard to talk to that it was good to have someone else who would listen.
C J Browne 