One Kiss... (Completed)

Springfield Falls High School (Toby)

“Come on, Toby, eat something!” I prodded at my cereal bowl. My cheerios seemed to have liquidated into milky mush.

“I’m not hungry, mum.”

“Please, Toby. It’s your first day of school. You need the energy.”

“Mum…”

“Just a bit then, for me. And promise you’ll get something decent to eat at school…” She trailed off as I nodded. Her voice sounded thicker. “I’m sorry, Toby.”

“For what?” I heard the tone of genuine surprise reflected in my voice. 

“I…” Mum looked down. “I’ve given you and Lottie so much grief lately, and I know that you haven’t had the attention that you’ve needed. Both of you.”

I cast my gaze down into the depths of my bowl, let my spoon fall with a clunk.

“Mum, it’s fine.”

“Things will be better soon, Tobes. Once the divorce is settled, and your father sees fit to grace society with his presence once more, I promise things’ll be easier for all of us.” She patted me on the shoulder, as she slipped past.

My dad. Drew White. Con man extraordinaire and divorcee of my mother. Coward. Everytime I thought of him, rage and anger built inside me like hot helium, lifting my off the ground. He was the reason for the four trips to A&E in the past year, the quickly disposed of bottles and hastily washed knives. He was the reason for the added packet of white pills to mum's stash in her ziplock medication bag. He was the reason I hated life so much.

Sighing, I scraped back my chair and emptied my bowl into the bin. Some things never change.

                                                                        ***

The drive to school seemed to take forever. Mum insisted on driving me, even though we were within walking distance – something I wasn’t used to. I was already missing Josh. Swansea seemed like such a faraway place now. The radio was on, playing “Signed, Sealed, Delivered” by Stevie Wonder. Mum was trying to make small talk while Lottie texted in the backseat, her thumbs tapping at lightning speed.

“New boyfriend already?” Mum asked chirpily.

“No!” Lottie insisted. “Mum, I’ve not even got to school yet.” I rolled my eyes. Lottie was thirteen, and at the age where most girls go absolutely boy-mad. Unlike moi, who’d never had a girlfriend, Lottie had gone through most of the male population back in Swansea. Lottie was one of those girls who everyone wanted to be like. She had the long blonde hair, the designer clothes, the attitude. Unfortunately, not many tween boys had yet worked out that girls like Lottie spelled 'trouble' with a capital 'T'.

“This is it!” Mum proclaimed, wrenching the steering wheel with a flourish, steering our Fiat Punto through a very narrow opening with a set of wrought iron gates with a sign that screamed, “Springfield Falls High School”. No words were said as mum negotiated the long leafy drive crammed with other cars and buses. The main school building was squat and made up of pale browny-yellow bricks with a dark corrugated iron roof. The front of the school was spanned by a large leafy car park packed with cars. Kids were dawdling in a large concrete area framed by a mesh fence, or walking with their mates to registration. I felt a brick the size of Jupiter drop into my stomach. Mum pulled over into a narrow parking space.

“Bye, Mum,” Lottie was already out of the car, smoothing her hair with her new bag hooked over her arm, and pink BlackBerry in hand.

“Bye, love,” called mum, as Lottie stalked off. “Toby, love, you look very pale. Are you alright?”

I nodded, unfastening the seatbelt. I leaned across and kissed mum’s powdery cheek. “See you later.”

“Bye, Toby,” said mum, a little wistfully. “Don’t worry. A bright lad like you’ll have a whale of a time. You’ll see. Keep out of trouble now, won't you?”

I ducked out of the car and headed towards reception, wanting more than anything to be able to believe her.

                                                                          ***

The school smelled of floor polish, and antiseptic, reminding me grimly of the Cefn Coed Hospital back in Swansea, where I spent many weekends and school nights. The furniture in reception was basic Ikea-mania; blocky MDF tables and leatherette chairs with corners that would skewer your arms and legs; A huge potted plant stood in a ceramic pot the colour of dog diarrhoea; and a huge pale wooden reception desk dominated the southern wall opposite the front entrance. I approached it carefully, waiting for the cute looking receptionist to put down the phone and stop talking about bloody wedding dresses. Suddenly, I heard the door fly open behind me. Seconds later, something hard and heavy collided with my shoulder, sending me sprawling onto the cheap lino.

“Oh, shit! Oh, man, I’m so sorry!” A voice groaned behind me. I raised myself slowly, testing for broken bones. A guy, probably about my age was sprawled on the floor behind me, covered in papers and a collapsed cardboard box. He was mixed race and very thin, and gangly, like he’d been stretched with pliers. In one ear was a cheeky diamond stud. He pushed himself onto his heels, and raised himself to his feet. “Oh, man,” he repeated, “I’m in some deep shit now.”

“Don’t worry about it.” I raised my hand. “It’s no sweat. Here, let me help you.” I helped him gather the crumpled papers up into a rough pile.

“Hey, thanks, man,” the guy nodded, “I owe you one. Who are you, anyways? Ain’t seen ya round here before.”

“Toby. Toby White.”

“Nice, bruv. I’m Jasper Acorn. Now don’t laugh! Everyone calls me Squizz, though, like squirrel, ‘cuz of my name. Geddit?”

I laughed.

“I’ll see ya round, bruv, and thanks again!” He staggered off, the papers rustling in his arms.

“Can I help you?” The cute receptionist was finally off the phone.

“Uh. My name’s Toby White. I’m a new student.”

“Oh, right.” She tapped away at her computer for a moment. “Your form tutor is Mr Daines. Your form room is room twenty-three.” She paused, and handed me two sheets stapled together. “This is a school map, and this is your timetable.” She took a highlighter and coloured in a small box labelled, ‘23’. “That’s your form room,” she added. “Breaktime is after period two at eleven twenty, and lunch is after period four at one twenty.”

“Uh, thanks.” I took the sheets and sidled off towards the door.

By the time I managed to get to my form room, I was ten minutes late. It turned out Mr Daines was a maths teacher with an incredibly boring voice and a fetish for baked beans. I took the only empty seat at the back next to a girl with severe acne and pigtails.

“Hey,” she whispered. “You new here?”

“Uh huh.”

“I’m Agatha, but you can call me Agate. I moved here from New Zealand last month.”

“Oh, right.”

“If you want some advice, avoid him. She jabbed her finger in the direction of a guy with long shaggy hair and a battered guitar case strapped to his back. “That’s Antony James. He’s gay, even though he doesn’t know it yet, and he’s obsessed with Bugs Bunny. See that girl there?” She pointed to a girl on the other side of the classroom. She was tall and thin with long blonde hair and electric pink fingernails. She was staring straight at me, batting her long fake lashes. She reminded me repulsively of Lottie. “That’s Emilee Motts, the slut of the year. You don’t want to get involved with her.” She lowered her voice, “Rumour has it that she lost her virginity aged ten to Brady Hewitt in year eleven.”

Something told me this was going to be a long day…