Indigo Children

Written Statement #2 Rudy

I, Rudy Thompson, AKA Rudy T, make this statement of my own free will. I understand that I do not have to say anything but that it may harm my defence if I do not mention when questioned something which I later rely on in court. This statement may be given in evidence.

Did you know that we describe our memories differently depending on the audience? It isn't just the message that changes. It's the memory itself. For example, do I want to make you laugh or do I want to educate you? Food for thought that. I beg to differ on how reliable this statement will be.

Where does my overachieving mind, body, and soul come into this investigation? What did I do?

The bus driver that saw me entering the pit, did he report me for trespassing? Shit, is this a case of mistaken identity by the Amazon guy who stopped to ask me where Windsor View was? (scratches chin and brushes back my perfectly tousled hair)

Can you tell I'm thrilled to be here again? I'm such the bad boy. Really I am. My mum fit jeans and shimmering lips scream bad boy—the worse kind!

Gosh, what DID I get up to Sunday?

Well, around lunchtime, I elbowed my little brother in the face for being a pest? He reminds me most days; I should be shopping at sports shops and kicking a football to make it large in this place.

He disagrees with my reaching goals at school and mastering the art of revolution in vintage clothes. Overthrowing social order is my rebellion. I do not expect it to be his too. We need each other to bring indifference to the table, or where would my resistance be?

Oh yeah, at school, I forgot for a moment.

See, the last time I was here, I had been beaten up on the school field for kissing a boy. I don't remember you taking a statement from me that day. I don't remember anyone bringing the boys in that broke my arm. Memories are such a funny thing. I suppose you did all you could do—let's choose to believe that and be sick in our own mouth.

I was shocked to find that Chase took the matter into his own hands and fought the boys that hurt me. I was so upset with him for getting arrested over me and my pain. Two wrongs don't make a right! We all know that!

But if you think about it, there wouldn't have been two wrongs if the kids that beat me were dealt with responsibly. Ignorance isn't bliss. Detention doesn't educate. A days exclusion doesn't set an example. This isn't arithmetic, people! It's just sense. Can you believe it? Did I just press my palm on my chest while repeatedly batting my eyelids? Yes, I did.

My friends and I are the tattered ends of different. We're a bunch of righteous teens showing the world we don't care with incredible amounts of emotions.
Without them, I wouldn't be who I am today. Without me, they wouldn't be millions of followers deep on the socials. Round of applause and thank you so much.

We will worry about the choices we make when saying goodbye to the good times. See, that's the beauty within youth; it's the part of us that doesn't care about the future, and why should it? It's the years that sculpt us. It makes mistakes into memories—toxicity into desires no matter how you down the YA stories. Addictions, bad habits and downfalls are part of it. Existence isn't based on merit, my friends, wake up! Life is the pleasant design of good and evil. Grab it all by the throat.

To summarise the Indigo Children, we challenge the day to day reminders of a sweet sixteen-year-old.
•Enjoy school. It's all over in a flash, but don't fuck it up.
•Be young but grow up.
•Have fun but not too much.
•Everything will be ok, but take your medication.
•Be who you want to be but don't.
WE ARE IN A MESS OF CONTRADICTIONS. How are we possibly meant to get it so right?

Other than harming my toe-rag brother, what else could I have done?

I didn't pay the milkman as my dad asked me to. I used my lunch money for a vintage encyclopedia. But I don't think that's worth picking me up from my house in the middle of the night.

I wore eyeliner, and my dad thought it would hinder my intelligence. He didn't like it much because I'm a boy living in the wrong place for different. Luckily for him, I am smart enough to know that eyeliner doesn't affect the frontal, temporal and parietal lobes of my brain. Eyeliner only affects one thing, and that's my eyes as it should. I took the whole conversation to TikTok and succeeded in my point. My dad's small mind grew an inch—everything takes time—I don't hold anything against him.

So that's me scratched off the guilty list.

My problem is I'm never guilty, not even in the queue at the airport when I suddenly feel sure I have a pocket full of contraband. Why does the look of a security guard have that effect on me? I'm ready to admit without having anything to reveal.

While on the subject of guilt. Am I here because of Chase Lockwood? Sunday night, there was a scuffle. That part must have escaped my memory—oops! I being me, was rearranging my messy hair into a perfect mess through my camera when Charlie revealed that Chase had cheated on Quinn. Drop the curtain! Shows over! Exit to the left! This shit just got real!

We were still as stone, waiting for the next move. Our eyes were wide, and our hearts a little cracked. Even the coal grew ears. The silence was silent. The night sky stopped moving. We were all in shock apart from Emma because she was out cold on the sofa.

Who would move first but Chase, of course? He threw Charlie's drunken ass to the ground and said but two words. "She knows."

Chase was ashamed of himself. I could tell by how he aimed his two words at the ground. Something has been going on with him lately, but he's not an easy horse to break. He's had the same clothes on for the past few days. Nor has he been at school.

At first, I wanted to know how she knew. Did Chase tell her, or did she find out?

These questions aren't necessary. The answer to the questions isn't essential. Not now I've noticed my dad with his palms pressed against the glass and his eyes fixed on me as though he's sending me all the love I need.

No matter how dysfunctional our families are or aren't, we all have someone sitting or standing in the hallway apart from Chase. Do you see his mum or dad out there? Is anyone asking when he will be able to go home like the flock of parents on the other side of the glass window I'm facing? Is anyone arriving to take him home?

I'll bet we all have someone here but Chase.

That young man will slip through the crack if nobody acts. No matter what he is or isn't, he should be given a chance. He needs guidance. Don't slam him with another charge. He isn't a lost cause. He isn't a waste of time.

We are young and have time to make things right.

I was home by ten. I don't know what happened after that.

I want to go home now, please.