Trying for Love

Chapter 17

His heart had begun to beat double-time. Sweat had soaked his shirt as his vision blurred, making the writing on the board incomprehensible. Despite undoing his top button and loosening his tie, he had struggled to catch his breath. Mr Timmons' speech had melded into a distortion of syllables, bouncing off the classroom walls; and all the eyes, everyone had turned and stared. Henry had excused himself and rushed out of the door into the outside, heading straight for the old block.

Unlike the rest of the school, in the old block there were two toilets in their own individual bricked stalls. Tall doors met the brick wall which descended from the ceiling. So that within, it was a sealed room, only the small, leaded window above the toilet prevented the seal from being absolute. It was the right-hand stall which Henry had selected, his favourite. Inexplicably it had less graffiti, the sole line of scrawl scribbled beneath the lock, which he bolted, read simply: trapped within. A prefix of 'your shit is' had been added in a paler blue, but it wasn't this on which Henry focused.

As he sat, with the toilet seat down, he breathed deeply. Resting his elbows on his knees, he pressed the heels of his hands to his closed eyes and allowed the eddy of red and black to swirl on the back of his eyelids. It was a heady mix but soon the cries of the seagulls outside and the gurgle of the cistern were quietened to non-existence. He stayed like this, absorbed in his own absence of mind until the last shudder of his shoulder had been stilled. Then he released a long exhale before standing to stretch his entire body. Henry unbolted the door but stopped in the doorway.

"Oh, hey," said Henry, running a hand through his hair. He hadn't heard anyone come in.

He checked that the coast was clear before kissing Manny up against the wall. Smiling as he felt himself being pulled even closer to the boy he liked so much. Never had Henry's heart raced so fast while he had felt so insouciant.

Between kisses Henry mused, "I'm so relieved. I thought you were mad or something."

The same hands that had gripped him close now pushed him away. He laughed and tried to lean in but Manny forced his hands harder into Henry's chest.

"I was mad, I am mad," said Manny, his thick eyebrows furrowed.

"Are you sure?" Henry teased, reaching for Manny's hip. Only for Manny to flinch away, slamming his head into the hand dryer fixed on the wall. Henry moved to help, "Shit, are you ok?"

"Get off me! I'm fine." Manny rubbed his head.

"You don't look it," said Henry, his voice full of concern.

"Really? I'm surprised you noticed and didn't just wait for Nate to do something," Manny snapped.

Henry swallowed, "What are you talking about?"

"The other day was humiliating, and you just stood there!" Manny's voice cracked.

"What was I supposed to do? It was just a joke," said Henry.

"It wasn't very funny," Manny said flatly, the anger dissipated.

Henry frowned, "If you didn't like it you should have said something."

Manny let out a hollow laugh, "Oh yeah, how did I not think of that. You try being one of the few black kids here, especially when it's blatant that I'm on a scholarship."

"What's that got to do with anything?" Henry exclaimed. Exasperated, he went to reach for Manny but stopped himself, shaking his head he said, "We were alright a few seconds ago."

An unreadable multitude of emotions simmered in Manny's eyes. The silence that grew seemed to stretch the distance between them to a vast plain. Henry opened his mouth, but no words came. Just then the bathroom door swung open, its handle whacking into the wall as a burst of students poured in. Manny quickly grabbed his bag which had dropped to the floor and squeezed his way out.

The common room was heaving with bodies fighting for space and a place in the queue for the café during the morning break rush, but Henry located Ewan with ease. His gangly friend was sprawled across several seats, aux cable in hand as he controlled the music blasting through the speaker; he straightened up when he saw Henry approach, making room for him. Henry flopped down on the seat next to him.

"You okay?" Ewan strained over the music. Henry nodded as Ewan reached under his seat and pulled out Henry's bag, "I've put my notes in your book so you can copy them tonight."

"Thanks, do you have my blazer?" Henry fished his phone out of his bag, only to drop it back in when he decided none of the seventeen unread texts interested him.

Ewan tapped the back of Henry's seat from where the blazer hung, "Timmons wants to see you, he said he'd be in his office at lunch."

"'Kay." Henry hesitated, "Do you know anyone on a scholarship?"

Ewan paused, "Well, they're secret scholarships for a reason."

"Yeah, but.."

Sitting back in his chair, Ewan said, "Jack's on a sport's scholarship."

"Other than a sport's one?" Henry knew most of the guys who had been able to join the school on sporting ability alone. And the majority of them didn't need the money off the fees to be able to attend anyway.

"Simra is apparently on a Headmaster's scholarship because her dad died. Other than her, probably Neo Waters, he lives on the Calton Estate," said Ewan, selecting the next song on his phone.

Calton Estate was all council housing, Henry had driven past it before but never had he made the turning and seen the four-storey terraced houses up close. The school bus didn't even go near there, Henry should know, that was why Manny had to get the city bus – he lived on the neighbouring cul-de-sac.

"What's this song-" Henry was interrupted by Jamie dropping down onto the seat next to him.

"Have you heard about Diaz?" George joined them, jumping over the seat from behind.

Jamie wrenched the aux cable from Ewan's phone, allowing the bell signalling the end of break to be heard, "Sam's bent!"

"What're you saying?" Ewan asked, leaning in closer.

"Sam Diaz on the second team, he's gay, like an actual gayboy," grinned Jamie.

"Oh shit," said Ewan, his eyes wide.

"How do you know?" Henry made sure he sounded as disinterested as possible, paranoid that his heart could be heard, hammering against his ribs.

"At Olivia's party – which you," Jamie pointed at Henry, "missed out on – Kojo was really drunk and told a load of the girls that Diaz is bent."

With confusion obvious on Ewan and Henry's faces, George added, "Apparently, at last year's Christmas party – so I suppose eighteen months ago – Diaz tried to kiss Jack but Jack pushed him off. So at the party Diaz ends up telling Jack and Kojo he's gay. They said they'd keep quiet about it but then Kojo got drunk ..."

"Yeah, so poor second-team-George here, has been playing with Diaz while the bender has probably been perving on them all in the changing room. And Jack's known this entire time!" Jamie said, with a disgusted smirk.

"O-oh, sorry mate," mocked Ewan, clapping George on the shoulder.

"I feel more sorry for Jack's team on Sunday," shrugged George.

"Sunday?" asked Henry.

"The exhibition match, the Old Boys versus the leavers-" said George.

"You can't play with a gay, so now Jack's a man down," said Jamie, turning the volume of the music up in the now-quiet common room.

Henry sank back in his chair as the others mused about who else in the year above could be used as a substitute. It wasn't even lunch and yet the day already felt too long. He cracked his knuckles, one by one before pushing his hand down on his restless leg.

"So, Saturday. Will you be there or will you just say that you will?" George kicked Henry, bringing him out of his thoughts.

"Um, yeah," said Henry, "I'll be there."

"Course you will," Jamie slapped the back of Henry's head. "You're not going to miss Steph's party."