Easy As Falling Off A Bike pt 2034

The Daily Dormouse.
(aka Bike)
Part 2034
by Angharad

Copyright © 2013 Angharad
All Rights Reserved.
  
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I sat worrying in the car. Where could Danny be and why was he skipping school? I suspected it had something to do with the French visit but without speaking to him, I could only speculate.

More out of desperation than anything else, I drove over to Peter’s house. His mother answered the door, “Oh, how nice to see you; do come in.” I stepped into the house.

“Have you seen Danny?” I asked her.

“He came in yesterday and they did some homework together.”

“Did you not find it strange that he came during school time?”

“No he said he had permission.”

“How is Peter?”

“Up and down, still can’t decide if he’s a boy or a girl.”

“Is he getting therapy?”

“Oh yes, every week–don’t know if it’s helping that much–it can’t undo what happened and his reaction to it.”

“If Danny should turn up again, please call me on this number and keep him here until I collect him.”

“He’s not in trouble is he?”

“I don’t know. He hasn’t been in school for the past week.”

“Oh dear, he’s such a nice boy.”

“He is, I’d best get back to searching for him.”

“Good luck,” she called as I trotted down the drive to my car and set off again. I drove to the school, it only took a few minutes. Once there I asked to speak to the headmaster and he told me he only knew as much as I did, that Danny hadn’t been there for the whole week. They’d asked his friends where they thought he might be but none of them said they had any idea and assumed he was off sick.

I tried to drive in a circle around the school, slowly increasing the diameter as I went. I had no idea where I was going, but just hoping to either spot him or pick up his energy. An hour later, I had to abandon my search and I passed a small cafe. Just up the road I spotted a parking place and thought a cuppa and sandwich might help.

I walked briskly down to the cafe and pushed open the door, ordered a pot of tea and tuna salad sandwich on wholemeal bread, paid for it and then looked around for a table. I nearly died, sitting in a corner was Danny–I was sure it was Danny. He hadn’t spotted me, but then he was looking at something on the table. I indicated I’d use the table he was occupying and before he could run off, I closed in on my quarry.

He hadn’t seen me when I dumped my bag on the table. The look on his face was priceless. “Mum?” he gasped.

“I think we have something to discuss.”

“Um–can it wait until we get home?”

“What so you can have time to invent an excuse?”

“Um–no, I’ll explain everything.”

“Have you eaten?”

He looked sheepish and there was an empty packet of crisps lying beside and empty glass. He shrugged.

“Would you like something to eat?”

He nodded, his eyes beginning to fill with tears. “Sorry, Mum.”

“We’ll talk in the car afterwards, have something to eat now.”

“Okay,” he said sniffing back the tears.”

I ordered him a plate of egg and chips, which I knew he’d enjoy and still keep his appetite for dinner. They arrived the same time as my sandwich and tea and he tucked in with gusto. If anything it was I who didn’t really feel like eating but I forced the sandwich down and followed it with a couple of cups of tea.

At about half past one we walked back to the car, Danny walking as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. I checked we were okay to stay there then decided we’d go up onto the downs and chat there. Even though no one could overhear us on the street, I decided there were too many distractions and we drove up to the downs.

We parked in a viewpoint and I switched off the engine. “Okay, young man, perhaps you’d care to explain why you’re not in school?”

“I got picked on.” He stared out through the windscreen refusing to look at me or engage any eye contact.

“Picked on?” I queried.

“Yeah, it seems some of the Neanderthals hadn’t heard about what Peter did to himself or the business in France. They decided I must be queer too and they’ve been making my life hell for the past two weeks.”

“Tell the school.”

Tears were beginning to flow down his cheeks, “That’s a waste of time–they don’t care.”

“It doesn’t matter if they care or not they have a legal obligation to try and prevent bullying.”

“D’you know the names of the boys bullying you?”

“No,” he said rather too quickly for it to be true.

“So what d’you want me to do?”

“I dunno,” another tear trickled down his cheek.

“You went to see Peter.”

“Yeah, he’s not sure what he wants or what he is anymore.”

“Not a nice place to be.”

“No.” Another drop fell of his cheek onto his lap.

“Is that how you feel?”

He shrugged.

“Do you want to see Stephanie again?” He hadn’t been to her for a couple of weeks.

“What for, it’s pointless.”

“It will be if that’s what you think about it before you go. I can always find another therapist for you. Would you prefer to talk to a man?”
“No,” he said very loudly.

“I appreciate how difficult this must be for you...”

“How can you? You don’t know what I’m feeling.” Then before I could say anything he jumped out of the car and walked away. I stayed there feeling totally crushed, he was absolutely right, I had no idea what was going through his mind.

I watched as he stood looking down over Portsmouth to the Solent, his shirt sleeves rippling in the breeze. He must have been cold but I couldn’t say anything, not for the moment at least.

He probably stood there for ten or fifteen minutes before he turned and walked back to the car, getting in without saying anything. “Home?” I asked and he nodded. I drove us home. The tears were still streaming down his face and his eyes were all red. As soon as he got in the house he ran up to his room and I heard the door shut.

“What was all that about?” asked Stella.

“I don’t know, I haven’t got to the bottom of it yet.”

“France?”

“I honestly don’t know, Stel, when I do, I’ll let you know.”

“You gonna collect the girls?”

I glanced at the clock, “Oh shit, I’ll have to dash.” I did just that, running to the car and charging down the drive in it trying to avoid the censure of two eight year olds and a seven year old. Of course I got stuck in road works that hadn’t been there that morning and I was late arriving. Trish immediately criticised me and Livvie wasn’t far behind.

I burst into tears, whatever I did seemed to go wrong.

“Don’t cwy, Mummy, we stiww woves you.”

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