Chapter Three: The Kid
Elliot Tomkins closed the front door behind him and made his way out the front gate with his schoolbag over his shoulder. He dreaded school days like many fourteen year olds. He was reasonably bright and most of his teachers were good at their job but the problem was that he didn’t fit in. Almost every day he was intimidated by bullies and few of the other schoolboys would associate with him because of it. The one thing he hated most of all was not being thumped, having his lunch taken from him or having his underpants pulled over his head. It was when they referred to Elliot’s Father as being a “crazy” or a “nutcase”. To him, it was the most humiliating thing that anyone could do to him. They may as well have stripped him naked and had him stand at the top of the classroom
It hurt most, because even though Elliot didn’t know his Father, he believed he was indeed somewhat mad. The young teenager remembered the first time his Mother sat him down and told him why his Father was never around. He was six years old. Even some of his classmates at that point in time knew more about his Father than he did. Harold Beachamp’s Father was a drunkard but even Harold didn’t get anyway near as much abuse as Elliot did. In any case Harold was less sensitive. He didn’t like his Father. Elliot went through a phase where he wanted to hate the Dad he never knew but no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t. After that day when Elliot was six years old he never raised the subject again with his Mother. If he came home with a black eye or bruising on his body, he never said that it was because of his Father and what they said about him.
He desperately wanted his Mother to be wrong. He wanted his Father to come home and to inspire him and support him. Elliot hoped that he and his Father could be best friends. It just seemed that he was holding out for a dream that would never come to fruition.
When Elliot climbed on the school bus he was subjected to the usual taunts and verbal abuse. He sat in a seat all by himself. No one would sit beside him. Before school nothing out of the ordinary happened. He was pushed to the ground by a sixteen year old who was a year behind him in school, but that was mild behaviour to Elliot. In class Elliot kept his head down and didn’t answer any questions. If he was asked a question in class he would pretend he didn’t know the answer. It was better that way.
Up to this point, Elliot did have some friends but they weren’t loyal to him. Once a school bully such as Derren Blanchflower appeared on the scene, they would disperse. One of his part time friends was Harold Simpson. His parents were British and for the first ten years of his life, he lived there. Harold was arrogant but not in a nasty way. He believed he was ten times smarter than anyone else in the entire school. He probably was. This attribute meant that he was beaten up a number of times in the first few months in an American school. Elliot recalled one particular incident.
“What are you looking at four eyes?” Derren Blanchflower asked Harold when he walked into the school canteen one lunch time. “I’m trying to figure that out,” Harold responded. “I was wondering if you were descended from the native indian,”
“I’m no Indian,” Derren replied angrily as he closed his fists. “I’m American. Got that fartface?”
“Your lack of intelligence indicates that you are descended from some brutish tribe,” Harold responded with both authority and a lack of fear. “Maybe not the American Indian’s because that would be an insult to them.”
Elliot groaned. Very soon Harold would know the meaning of fear.
“Why I’m going to make you regret that,” Derren Blanchflower responded as he slowly moved closer to his intended victim.
It was at this point that Elliot intervened. “Can’t you leave him alone,” he said. “Harold doesn’t mean any harm. He’s just cocky.”
Part of Elliot was telling himself to back down but the other part told him that interfering was the right thing to do. Besides, he could do with a friend or two.
“Tomkins, maybe I’ll warm up on you and then finish this nerd off. What have you got for lunch? Any candy?”
“I can’t give you my lunch or I’ll starve,” Elliot responded.
Without hesitating, Derren struck Elliot to the ground and sat on top of him before slapping him on the face. “Who’s the smart arse now, Tomkins,” he taunted him. Elliot was aware that Derren’s trousers weren’t held up by a belt but a piece of string. His parents weren’t poor. They were miserly and wouldn’t spare a dime if they felt they didn’t have to. For some reason, without thinking Elliot pulled the string open. Derren noticed this immediately but stood up. His trousers fell down to his ankles, revealing pink polka dot boxer shorts. Derren became embarrassed, pulled up his shorts and left the canteen. Some of the occupants of the canteen started to laugh. Others were afraid to. From that moment on, Elliot became Derren’s number one target.
Elliot’s other part time friend was Alec Gartland. He was probably even weaker than Elliot or Harold and would run the other way at the slightest sign of conflict. Alec specialised in talking backwards. He probably would have been near the top of his class if he invested as much time in talking and reading forwards as he did in talking and reading backwards. His inspiration was a music video that encouraged him to study the subject. No matter how many times Elliot and Harold pointed out the futility of wasting his time on the subject Alec claimed that he could probably get a job working on Star Trek, as a linguist.
“That’s a pretty narrow job description,” Elliot would say.
“Sometimes Elliot, you’ve got to be ambitious. Aim high and work hard”
“If you aim too high and don’t have a fall back option, you may end up disappointed. You may end up in a job you don’t like and that doesn’t require a qualification.”
“Did you do your homework last night Alec,” Harold asked
“For the last two weeks I’ve been doing my homework backwards. My teachers are too dumb to notice. They’ll see. I’ll show them.”
The three part time friends were seated in the canteen at lunch time. Derren entered the room and approached. He was no more than six yards away when Alec and Harold disappeared as fast as they could.
Elliot had been looking forward to his lunch. He had hoped that he would be allowed to eat it in peace, but that no longer appeared to be the case.
“What have you got there Elliot Tosspot?” the six foot four and a half fourteen year old bellowed. His voice sent shivers down Elliot’s spine and made the hair on the back of Elliot’s neck stand up.
Elliot, a few years earlier, had a dream. He wondered what his Father would say to help him overcome his bullying problem. In the dream his Father told him to be strong mentally. If nobody fights with you, fight by yourself in your own mind and someday someone will stand by your side. He can take your lunch, make you feel pain, humiliate you, but only you can make him the victor in your own mind. Elliot remembered that dream every day afterwards but his faith in those fictitious words were draining day by day. With each blow from the six foot four inch fourteen year old in front of him the victim was slowly losing faith.
Today the weakling summoned what anger remained in him and he decided that he was going to make a stand. He was hungry after all. The day before, he fainted in class because of a lack of nutrition. Elliot wouldn’t mind but his lunchbox was relatively healthy. He didn’t have any sweets or chocolate bars. Derren Blanchflower wasn’t interested in eating it. Most days he threw it in the bin, on the floor or on Elliot’s head.
“Nothing,” Elliot responded.
“Well it looks like a lunchbox to me. Hand it over.”
“No.” the young teenager responded with as much defiance as he could muster. Part of Elliot told him that he was being incredibly stupid and that he would pay tenfold for his actions. The other part of him did not want to engage in rational thought.
“Hand it over.”
“No.”
Sometimes Elliot prayed for a teacher to interrupt Derren’s efforts to bully him but unfortunately all of the teachers were smaller than Derren.
The chief tormentor gave Elliot a punch in the stomach and grabbed the lunchbox from his hand. Elliot could hardly breathe and was bracing himself for what would come next.
The next thing to happen however, was that someone intervened. She was even smaller than Elliot but a thousand times more defiant.
“Hand back that lunchbox Derren Branchfoot or I’ll clobber you,” the young female teenager ordered him.
For the first time in Elliot Tomkins short life he witnessed the mound of muscle that was Derren Blanchflower being reduced to an indecisive and intimidated wreck.
“I don’t want to hand it back.”
“Hand it back now.”
Derren looked at her for the slightest sign of weakness or fear. Even he couldn’t hit a girl, especially one as strong willed as she was. Derren didn’t know what to do. He was conscious that half the school were looking on and that he was being humiliated before their eyes by a girl. Reluctantly he left the lunchbox back on the table.
“Apologise,” the young girl said in an authoritative voice.
The situation was already bad enough as it was without further humiliation. Elliot looked around at the horde of students standing open mouthed at the young girl’s obstinance.
“No,” Derren responded timidly.
“Apologise.”
Elliot tried to intervene for fear that once this mysterious young girl was out of the picture there would be reprisals. “He doesn’t have to apologise. He’s given the lunchbox back.”
“Apologise,” the five foot one inch female teenager insisted defiantly.
There was a moment of hesitation before Derren Blanchflower responded. “Sorry,” he said underneath his breath.
“Louder,” the young woman replied
“Sorry,” Derren responded in a slightly louder manner before turning and walking away.
The young fourteen year old girl, turned to Elliot. “You shouldn’t be so soft. If you don’t stand up to bullies like him they’ll walk right over you.”
Sometimes Elliot would dream of finding a fourteen year old friend who was six foot seven inches tall and only too willing to protect him against Derren Blanchflower. He did not expect any assistance however from a diminutive young teenage girl.
“What’s your name?” Elliot asked out of curiosity. He had never been so excited about getting to know someone in his entire life.
“Sylvia. Sylvia Bannister.”
Elliot could see that Sylvia was quite attractive, as well as being the only person he had ever met who stood by his side. She was a long haired brunette with blue eyes and pale skin. Apart from being small, she was neither overweight nor thin. She was wearing a blue and grey school uniform but unlike most, hers was neatly ironed and presented.
“Would you like to sit with me Sylvia,” Elliot asked with a semblance of a smile. “It’s not often that I have some lunch to eat.”
“Sure, why not,” she responded positively. “I’m new here after all.”
The two teenagers sat down at a table and started to eat some lunch.
“How long have you been at the school for?”
“This is my third day here. I’m in some of Derren’s classes. I moved from Gilmanton with my Dad about two hundred miles from here. My mum ran off with another man. She was never around anyway. And you? Have you been here all your life?”
“Pretty much. I haven’t seen my Father in ten years though. I was little when I last saw him.”
Part of Elliot felt that he had just put his foot in his mouth. He desperately wanted to impress Sylvia not scare her away.
“What happened to him?”
“It’s a family secret,” Elliot said initially before having second thoughts. “Then again everybody else in the school knows more than me. You’re bound to find out eventually. He’s in a looney bin. Apparently he claimed that he saw aliens and they locked him up ever since.”
Elliot was trying to be blunt and unfair. He knew that his classmates were likely to communicate a much extreme version of events than what he would ever say about his father.
“That sounds harsh.”
“What?”
“Locking somebody up for something like that. It’s not like he killed someone or attacked someone is it?”
“Not that I know of.”
Already, Elliot was impressed with Sylvia. She seemed to say all the right things and in a short space of time she was making him feel on top of the world.
“Ten years seems unfair to me. Can you remember what he was like?
“I only remember thinking that he was a great Dad and next thing you know he isn’t there anymore. Maybe I was wrong. I was four after all.”
“Do you ever visit him?”
The fact that someone like Sylvia talked to him with compassion about her Father soothed him and made him feel a lot better. Sometimes he felt as though he was the only person who believed in Jake Tomkins. Everyone else appeared to want Jake to be the villain rather than the hero.
“Mom says I can only visit him when I’m older. She says that it’s not the kind of place a kid should experience.”
“Does your Mother visit him?”
“Not that I know of. I don’t think she wants to. What about your Dad? What’s he like?”
“He’s ok. Did you see that episode of Melford last night?”
Melford was a primetime television comedy series. It was centred on an individual who said stupid but funny things. Elliot did not find the programme to be all that funny. He preferred comedies that had clever lines rather silly ones.
“To be honest, I think my fart jokes are funnier than that programme. I don’t like it when people laugh at others for doing stupid things. It’s the lowest form of wit if you ask me.”
“I thought that was sarcasm.”
“It’s not much different. Even I could come up with something funnier than that?”
“Like what for example.”
Elliot was stumped. He’d put himself in a hole. He knew some jokes in his mind but would any of them make her laugh. He hesitated and hesitated and hesitated.
“Don’t worry,” Sylvia said. “I can’t think of anything either, that you probably haven’t heard before.”
Suddenly Elliot had found a girl that stood up for him, wanted to be his friend and didn’t mind that he was not going to be a stand-up comedian. Elliot also discovered in the remaining minutes of lunch break, that he may not have shared all the same interests as Sylvia but he enjoyed her company more than anyone.