Page 5 of Everything That Kills Me
He slipped out of the house to catch the earlier bus to avoid travelling with his stepsisters. His parents were idiots. His stepmother more so than his father. She didn’t believe in rulesand wanted them to set their own boundaries, to decide for themselves when they needed to go to bed and whether they’d spent enough time on their phone. She was always waffling on about letting them learn from their mistakes.
When he’d plucked up the courage to speak to Elisa and his dad about being bullied, she’d said he should sort it out himself and told his dad that parental interference would make matters worse, and might rebound on Alice and Georgia. Zeph had known there was no point saying anything else.
He’d been mortified when she’d made a big deal out of giving the three of them condoms a year ago. Even Georgia and Alice had gawked at that. Both girls were allowed boys in their rooms, though not overnight for Alice. As far as Zeph knew, Alice had never had a boyfriend. Georgia was the pretty one, the funny one. She had to fight boys off. Alice was… Disturbed was the best he could come up with.
Elisa told him she had no problem with him entertaining a girlfriend as long as the two of them behaved ‘responsibly’. He’d thought about asking her how she’d feel if it was a boyfriend, but why poke that nest of hornets when there was no likelihood of it happening? Even if Elisa was okay with it, his father wouldn’t be.
When Martin had come out as trans in his twenties, the family had stopped talking to him. As far as they were concerned, Martin had been born a girl whose name was Stefanie and they would not accept anything else. Whenever Zeph went to see his grandparents, they and his father said horrible things about Martin. When his grandfather died, there had been a big row when Martin had turned up at the funeral. Zeph’s mum had been furious with his dad. The family’s treatment of Martin was always something they argued about.
When his mum had died, Martin had come to her funeral and Zeph chewed his lip remembering how cruel his fatherhad been. Martin had still attended the funeral of Zeph’s grandmother a few months later and Zeph had wondered why when neither of Martin’s parents had been kind. Martin had later told him he wanted to be sure they were dead.
Unhappy as Zeph was at home, he knew it could be worse. He needed a roof over his head. He had his future mapped out and finding himself homeless or in council care wasn’t part of his plan. In two years, he’d go to university. Nothing would interfere with that. After reading maths and computer science at Cambridge, he’d get a job with GCHQ, Government Communications Headquarters, the UK’s intelligence, security and cyber agency. Maybe he’d spend a few months travelling before he started work, assuming he could find a job to pay for the trip. Or save his money and have laser eye surgery instead, say goodbye to his annoying glasses.
He was the youngest in his class because he’d skipped a year at primary school. Partly because he’d been assessed as gifted but also because with a birthday at the start of September, he’d either be the youngest in the year or the oldest and his mum, more than his dad, had decided he’d benefit from the challenge of more difficult work. There were pros and cons, especially socially, and it was very rare for any child to skip a year, but it had all been decided for him before his mum died.
So Zeph was only just turning sixteen, while Alice, who was in the same year as him, would be seventeen in December. Zeph had issues with Alice. Georgia too, though she mostly ignored him. But Alice hadn’t done anywhere near as well as he had in her GCSEs, which meant no one had properly congratulated Zeph on getting a top grade in every subject for fear of making Alice cry harder. His father had asked him to help her revise a couple of subjects, and he’d tried, but she’d not put the effort in. He wasn’t prepared to take responsibility for her results, andalthough Elisa had tried to blame him—something he’d never forgive—at least Alice hadn’t. Not for that, anyway.
She was spiteful and mean in private, sweet and charming in public. She picked on Zeph but he felt a bit sorry for her. She was always putting herself down.I’m stupid. I’m fat. I’m spotty. No one likes me. I’m ugly. It’s not fair.Well, life wasn’t fair. Zeph had learnt that long ago. He’d also quickly learned that Alice didn’t want advice, she just wanted someone to listen to her moans and complaints, someone who’d be sympathetic. That wasn’t Elisa. Nor Georgia. His dad was more patient with her.
Zeph was pretty sure Alice had an eating disorder but telling Elisa that had stopped Alice speaking to him for a while. She dropped into bouts of depression and Zeph was used to hearing her crying at night. She seemed happy about the party so maybe that was one reason, the only reason, to be pleased it was happening.
Arriving early at Fishbourne Academy was a risk. The gates were open but the doors to the school were still locked so everyone milled around outside. Unfortunately,everyoneincluded Scott and Rufus. Bigger than him, taller than him and mean to the bone. Zeph swallowed hard. He always did a lot of swallowing around them. They made his nerves jangle. He spotted them near the science block, and almost as though they sensed him coming through the main gates, they turned in his direction.Shit.
He thought about heading the opposite way but what was the point? They’d follow. A confrontation was inevitable, the infliction of pain a possibility. His heart rate increased. He should stand his ground, stop being a mouse.
New term. New start. New him.
“Well, look at you, princess,” Scott sneered as they walked up to him. “Shiny new shoes, new blazer, new trousers, new glasses. Did your mummy put you in new underwear too?”
Zeph didn’t point out they also wore new clothes.
“Get your trousers at Marks and Spencer?” Rufus snorted. “Machine washable for when you wet yourself. You are prone to accidents.”
Zeph kept his face blank. He’d never wet himself, well he probably had when he was a toddler, but last year Rufus had deliberately sprayed water over his crotch to make it look like he’d had an accident. Zeph had made the mistake of reporting him and Rufus’s parents had been called into school. Things got worse.
He wished he could think of some putdown about them being interested in his underwear, but not interacting was the best option. He tried to walk away, and Scott stepped into his path. “Hey, we’re talking to you, dickhead. You owe us money.”
“No, I don’t.”
He pushed past them both, shocked he’d managed to do that until he felt the hard kick at the back of his knee. His leg buckled, he stumbled forward and barely managed not to faceplant. He limped away, his lips pressed together, as the pair sniggered behind him.That’s my bad leg, you dickheads.They didn’t know about the cancer but they’d seen his scar in PE.
Zeph hid in the toilets until it was time to go in, and yes, he was ashamed he’d resorted to that. Leaving it until the last possible moment to turn up at registration meant he avoided another incident. The only free seat was on the far side of the room at the front and he walked there with his head down. There’d been an induction day at the end of the summer term so they already had their timetables. Their form teacher was Mr Andrews. Young and new, he’d be teaching further maths and would be one of Zeph’s teachers.
Registration complete, it was into the hall for assembly. Zeph tried to get out of the room quickly, but Scott shoved him aside before he could exit into the corridor and Zeph banged his head on the door frame.Ouch. That hurt!He stepped back into the classroom out of the crush, took off his smudged glasses and rubbed his head. He’d wait until everyone had gone. He kept his gaze down and blinked back tears.
“You should have shoved him back.”
Zeph looked up. A boy he’d never seen before stood in front of him. He put his glasses back on.Oh!
He was a head taller than Zeph.
His hair was sun-kissed blond.
His face was tanned.
His eyes were rain-cloud grey.
His lashes were thick and long.
