Niven Govinden - Graffiti My Soul

‘Where were you on Friday night?’

‘It was Shabbat, Moon. I was at home having dinner with Mum, like a good little boy.’

‘And you stayed in all night?’

‘Ask Mum, if you don’t believe me.’

‘They’ve been trying to persuade him to go to the police, but he’s refusing. Doesn’t want to be made a fool of. Says he feels stupid enough as it is.’

‘He should go to the police if there’s a crime involved. We can’t let Surrey become a neighbourhood of silent victims.’

‘You’ll regret saying that if he changes his mind.’

‘How will I? I don’t even know what you’re talking about.’

‘He’d be able to identify you, you know.’

‘I very much doubt it. I hear these attackers are very well covered up these days.’

‘If they didn’t get you on his word, there’s always Jason’s.’

My stomach goes. It’s the kick in the gut I was expecting.

‘I wasn’t with Jason on Friday night. I was at home with Mum, like I told you. And just in case you want to check, Jase’s on a new phone. You won’t get the evidence you’re looking for.’

‘He’ll still have his old phone somewhere. All we have to do is switch SIM cards and see what’s still on there.’

‘True. Except he’ll do his best to hide it.’

‘You’re making it very hard for us to stay friends.’

‘I thought we were past that. I thought we hated each other. You’ve gotta learn to move on, Moon. No one can respect a person who doesn’t learn to do that.’

‘And you call mugging Daniel’s dad moving on? Very mature!’

‘Moon, I’m a runner. Putting one foot in front of another is what I do best. I’m always moving on.’

‘If I told Dan that I thought it was you, he’d bash your head to a pulp. He’d kill you.’

‘If you do that, you can also tell him to bring it on. I’m ready.’

I tell Jase that Pearson raped Moon and made her take the morning-after pill. She mentioned the pressure he’d put her under once or twice, so this was sort of close to the truth.

There’s been no comeback since Dad Punk #2, so this is me just speeding things up. Training with Brendan and his team and having to be so gracious about it, waiting for the moment when Mum would introduce me to Mike. My nerves are shredded.

Also, the very discreet and painstaking trail of Yid graffiti has extended and seems to have pre-empted my moves around school. So beautiful in parts, like a series of ornate classical marks, when you spot them replicated tenfold across your library shelf, on your random textbook, on the underside of the handle of your bag after gym. Replace the Yids with hearts and it could have been love notes he was sending me. It was possibly the closest thing to it since Moon stopped with her visits. I mean, you’ve gotta be really bothered about a guy to be doing stuff like that. It’s a big project.

The proliferation of symbols are scattered like petals, but read like darts. This is the real world, not some jumbo fantasy I’m having in my head. I need to negate all the additional variables that are pushing me off course. What is it they keep saying at school? That fifty per cent of your final GCSE marks are based on problem solving, the other fifty on effort and imagination? This is my big push at problem solving.

Jase is nonplussed at the news, like this is hardly the most surprising out-of-character thing that he’s ever heard about that wanker.

‘I’m starting to take a real exception to that cunt. This news is only adding to it.’

Something to do with being dropped once Pearson had made his point down the Bowl. He kept saying he wasn’t bothered, but I wasn’t stupid. He was starting to spend more time with me down the track than he had done for ages.

‘Let me speak to a few people.’

That night, after Jase has spoken to a few people, a petal reaches home. Local paper, back sports page, bottom right, under the athletics report. Upside down, but undeniable.

Liberties, man.

‘Would it make you feel any better if I said that I was into you?’

‘Not really,’ goes Gwyn. ‘I wouldn’t believe a word of it anyway. You’ll say anything to get me off your back.’

‘But I am. I’m really into you, I think.’

‘No, you’re not.’

‘Then why are you holding my hand?’

‘Because my’s sister’s dead and our heads are all over the place. We learned all about it in Psychology. It’s called transference.’

‘Fuck transference.’

‘You’re just looking for someone who understands. Someone who’s going to make you feel better…’

‘And it’s you.’

‘… and I’m not it.’

‘I can’t help how I’m feeling.’

‘That’s the grief. It’s got nothing to do with me. Do you have any idea how stupid we look together? I’m almost eighteen. You’re fifteen. It’s ridiculous.’

‘Not if it’s right.’

‘Your idea of eligibility and mine are two different things. I’m looking for someone with A levels, not ASBOs.’

‘You won’t find anyone like that in this part of Surrey. Gwyn, I feel something for you. It’s nothing to do with dead sisters, transference, or not being carted off in police cars. It’s real.’

School is all whispers. From the moment I’m in the corridor, I get it. Everyone in class has a mouthpiece on one of two things: Vera posing for pictures for the local pervert, Pearson being some giant rape machine. You know how Chinese whispers are. Give it an hour and they take on a life of their own.

It’s dirt too good to stay in one room, or one floor even. It spreads across our year and the upper years by morning. The beauty of overnight MSN or a bulletin on MySpace. I’ve seen it happen enough times.

That night it’s no sleep and all niggles. Neither Moon or Jase call. No one wants to speak to me on MSN. I ask Mum if I can stay off school.

‘Is this anything to do with Casey being off the scene?’ she goes, because she’s not stupid.

(‘What you have to understand is that he’s crushed. He looked up to Casey like another dad. Had done for months. He hasn’t had anyone in his life like that since Jeya left us.’

I overhear Mum and Mike discussing me on the phone, like I’m another one of Mum’s cases, but I can’t walk in and tell them that Casey isn’t like a father figure at all. More like the other way around. It can’t be my fault if I have a dad I never see, and a mum who takes her sweet time in finding a replacement. Why don’t they just blame my weaknesses for everything?)

‘No. I’m just tired. I need a day off to rest.’

I’ve just left my dinner untouched, which makes it a yes. Mum says I’ve been training too hard lately, that I need to ease up.

I’m still worrying, not about tomorrow now, but about the day after. Convincing myself of its distance away, I manage to get some sleep. But then, Jason turns up at eight a.m. like he always does, and suddenly Mum doesn’t look so sympathetic. I chuck on my uniform and go in. Fuck it.

I’m visualising all the way in. Hawk not dove. Hawk not dove. Now’s the time to be moving away from the lion.

‘Anything to report?’ I ask him.

‘Nothing for you to worry about,’ he goes. ‘Just get on with your day and ignore these idiots.’

Just as I thought, my front crumbles from the moment I walk past the shops with Jase. Rape-machine is yesterday’s news. Pearson must have been working overtime on MSN last night. There’s too much talk about pretty boys going on in the corridors. Registration feels like something out of the Hutton Inquiry. Way too hostile. Way too much comedy smirking. Everyone throws these looks like I’m the freakboy who’s about to run off with a man who’s not his dad. It’s not enough that they think that I’m gay. They think I’m gay on a BIG scale.