A freezing globule of water slipped down the back of my neck. I swore loudly, jerking away from the drainpipe and falling straight into a certain boy named Phil, his hair sparkling with a fine mist of drizzle.
"Do you have to swear at every opportunity?" He scolded.
I blinked in surprise. "Where did you come from?"
He motioned vaguely with one hand. "You're going to be late for your lesson. Why are you hanging around here anyway?"
My cheeks reddened. "I could ask you the same question. Why are you here? You don't smoke. And you never skip class."
"Neither do you." He raised an eyebrow.
I turned my head away, thrusting my hands in my pockets and glaring at the wall. "Why do you care anyway? I'm just chilling in the rain. It's nice. Go away. I don't even know your name." I lied.
He laughed, shaking his head slowly at my scowl. "Can't two strangers stop for a chat in the rain? This is England after all." He ran a hand through is wet hair, surveying me. "If I forgot to tell you then that was very rude of me. I'm Phil. I take media, film production, literature and art.
"And you're Dan Something. You're new. You hang around with Gabes, Jake Mansford and Knuckles Ned. You tag. You're not one of them, but you are young and lost in a world that's so different from the one you left that you see no choice but to follow them; as branching out in search of a truly new life here would require guts, creativity and acceptance. Which you don't have. Goodbye, Dan. Maybe you'll shake off the prison of social constraint forced upon you by state secondary school once you've been here a bit longer. Maybe not. But I have a class to go to. Enjoy your rain."
I stood silently where he left me; gaping. As the rain seeped through my hair and into the fabric of my clothes I mouthed weak insults and comebacks, trying to ignore his words. It only hurt because I knew I wasn't like that, not really. I just clung to those people that so that they wouldn't beat me up. Phil was weird anyway. With one last disparaging glance at the dance studio, I sprinted over the wet tarmac towards my classroom.
*
I pulled my hood over my head, once more round the back of the sports hall. I don't think it stopped raining all day. I was waiting on my own again, shuffling around to try and stamp out the cold whilst still trying to look casual and confident.
Knuckles came first with Gabes loyally at his side. Stomping through the mud with what was probably supposed to be a swagger, he resembled a large gorilla, with ridiculously thick arms swinging pendulums at his side. His nose was so misshapen from breakages and punches that it had concaved in on itself with fear, and he sported a long, brutal looking scar down his left cheek that he held with pride. Gabes was slightly taller and better proportioned, going for the rugged look with blonde stubble, shoulder length greasy hair and silver piercings.
Knuckles threw a punch at my shoulder by way of a greeting and I tried not to wince. Gabes pulled out a packet of Marlboro and lit up.
I took the offered cigarette with what I hoped was a casual 'cheers', trying to calm the beating of my heart as I shoved it in my mouth and reached for the lighter. I fumbled with the spark, taking two attempts to get it lit and turning my head with a jerk to hide my stinging eyes, furiously choking back a cough. Cautiously I blew out, turning back to face the others in triumph as a thin plume of smoke rose straight — proof that I'd inhaled properly this time rather than the first few humiliating attempts and hacking coughs.
If Gabes noticed my small victory, he didn't show it.
"Are we going out tonight or what?" He grunted, kicking a coke can into the tarmac with his foot.
Knuckles nodded, draining the first cigarette and lighting another. "Jake's got a free house and I'm not leaving till I get laid at least twice."
I tried not to sound too excited. "What time?"
Knuckles shrugged. "Just turn up. Bring booze. Sorted."
Gabes nodded in agreement. "Where is Jake anyway?"
Knuckles shrugged again, stamping out his third cigarette and striding off through the playing fields, Gabes and I running to catch up.
*
Bradfield College was a private grammar school serving ages 11 to 18, set in the outskirts of Reading next to a small forest. I'd moved there two months ago after the kids at my state school discovered my dancing. I'd been doing okay; I kept my head down and had a few good friends. We liked the same video games and the same music, but as soon as the news broke they ran - and I didn't blame them, really. Guilty by association. It wasn't until I'd ended up in hospital with two broken ribs and the word 'ballerina' tattooed in permanent marker across my bloodied forehead that I persuaded my parents to move me. My grandma grudgingly agreed to help with the fees, and so I travelled twelve miles by bus each morning through the quiet country lanes of Berkshire. Around half the students boarded — some weekly and some for the whole term — which created a divide between the boarders and the day kids. But a free house is a free house, and it seemed like half the college was invited.
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A/N: Bradfield College is a real place near to where Dan grew up but I've never been there and this is in no way based on it, i just used the name and location :)