Chapter One – Meeting Dylan

Matt’s classmates turned to face him, slowly at first, then with confidence, giggling and grinning. They were going to enjoy this. The giggling became more confident as Matt’s discomfort grew. He sat in silence. He felt his face burn as he looked down at the desk in front of him.

The teacher opened her mouth to speak but said nothing. She had hit the wrong target and she knew it, everyone knew it. She raised her hand to the side of her face and slowly turned her gaze toward the window as if looking for a way out. The class knew she would take the easy option. Who wouldn’t? It was the last week of school after all.

Rooster, the tormentor, kicked Matt’s chair. “Yeah, pay attention, Shrimpy,” he hissed, loudly enough for those nearby to enjoy.

Matt felt his face redden even more. He did not move. Shrimpy! The teacher had called him Shrimpy, in class, in front of his friends. Matt’s world was divided into two groups, those who called him Matt and those who called him Shrimpy. Only the best of friends would call him Matt now and there were few enough of them.

“Matt. Face the front and don’t talk with your friends.”

Friends? Matt felt his heart thumping in his chest. How dumb could this teacher be? How could she think these were his friends? These were not his friends. Matt sat frozen and resolutely stared at his desk.

When Matt first met this teacher he really liked her. He thought she was pretty. Slight, with glasses and shoulder-length, light brown hair. She always wore dresses, she smiled a lot. Although Matt would not admit it now, he had been quite smitten with her. He made quite an effort to get a seat near the front of the class, in the safety zone.

Sitting in the safety zone did not last long though. In an effort to break the pack she made Matt swap places with one of the boys from the back, one of the wolves. The boy he was swapped with had never forgiven Matt, and Matt had never forgiven the teacher. Matt had been put amongst the wolves. There had been no hiding from them anymore.

“Hate you, ugly cow,” thought Matt. He looked up at the teacher, willing her to understand what he was thinking. This was it, the final straw. Matt had reached this point before but had always come back. Not this time. He would from this moment not speak in class. He would sit there silently, uncommunicative, unresponsive in every way possible. He would, except for his bodily presence, not be there.

“What a bitch,” said Jed as they filed out of class. Matt did not respond, he was still focused on being mute and just wanted to be left alone, even by his friends. Jed was a best friend. He faced the same challenges, he understood. They regularly consoled each other and plotted imagined revenge on their tormentors. Matt enjoyed the creativity Jed put into planning his big day when the world would flip and revenge would be had. He particularly liked the modified rack that Jed had drawn that would allow various pieces of the body to be pulled off selectively, one by one. They had fantasised and laughed about just who they would like to see face the ‘rack re-education programme,’ as Jed called it, and in what order and how slowly each piece would be pulled off.

“Shrimpy, pay attention, Shrimpy,” called a boy in a mock-feminine voice as Matt walked through the school gates.

After school was a risky time for Matt. Boys would often congregate outside the gates and if they had nothing better to do, would look for a soft target. On the worst days, they followed him down the road and slowly escalated the torment to pushing and tripping. ‘Good trip? You’re such a pushover,’ they would sneer while laughing.

Fortunately, this was not one of those days. Matt fought back tears as he walked down the road. To cry would somehow be a violation of his vow, a defeat, an acknowledgement of hurt. He was determined not to let this happen again. Matt walked with his head down, his hands in his pockets, lost in his thoughts.

It took him around twenty minutes to walk home if he did not stop. Most days he did stop, sitting under the trees by a pond and watching the ducks. “Ducks,” he thought, “they have great lives, simple, just paddling around in the sun.” He sometimes saved crusts for them from his sandwiches. He was envious of the ducks’ seemingly easy life and wished his life was as simple and as happy as a duck’s on a sunny day.

“Matthew?”

Matt awoke abruptly from his thoughts. Who was this? He heard his name clearly but did not recognise the voice. Furthermore, whoever had called out did not seem certain they had the right person.

“Matthew, is it you? You’ve grown so much!”

Matt turned and looked across the road toward the young man strolling toward him. Who was this? He was smiling broadly and looked very relaxed. Matt stood up and wiped his hands on his shorts.

“Great to see you.” A hand stretched out toward him. “Remember me?”

Matt shook the offered hand. He had no idea who this smiling stranger was.

“I’m Dylan, one of Simon’s friends.”

“Oh yeah,” said Matt, realising as he spoke it was obvious he had no idea who he was talking to.

“How have you been?” Another smile.

“Were you the guy with the motorbike?” Matt immediately regretted asking this and looked at the ground. Motorbikes and Simon were forbidden topics. But was this the link to Dylan?

“Yeah. Simon and I rode a lot.” There was a quietness in Dylan’s voice.

Matt realised he had mentioned the one thing he should not have. “Sorry,” he said, dropping his head.

“You’ve nothing to be sorry about. It was a long time ago and nothing to do with you.” Dylan paused, now seemingly lost in his thoughts. “This must be your last week at school. How’s it going?”

“Okay, I guess,” said Matt unconvincingly.

“Hmmm, school. Remember it well,” said Dylan with a wry grin and raised eyebrows. “Which way are you heading?”

Matt pointed and started to walk, Dylan joined alongside him.

“People call me Matt now.”

“Okay, Matt it is! Are you into any sports?”

“Not really,” said Matt knowing this sounded a bit lame. He was tired of being asked about sport. Simon had been the sporting one and Matt avoided sport at every opportunity.

“I’m staying with a friend in town,” began Dylan, “well sort of a friend. He was my mum’s partner for a while, but he was a lot younger than her, so not really old enough to be my father. I think friend is the best description.” He looked at Matt. “You’re starting college next year right, year nine?”

Matt nodded.

“Okay, you’ll see him there, he’s a teacher. Simon and I were best buddies at school. We trained together, rode together, and planned to travel together once out of school.”

Matt looked at Dylan and tried to imagine what Simon would look like now, if he were still alive.

“I’ve finished university, been travelling for a year. Mostly doing all the things Simon and I dreamed about. In a couple of months I start a new job but thought I’d spend the summer here first. Catch up with some old friends and enjoy my last bit of pre-corporate life.”

Matt stopped walking and pointed down a long driveway. “This is my house.”

Dylan folded his arms and stared down the drive. He took a big breath which he let out very slowly. “Yep, remember this place well.” He turned to Matt and smiled. “I’m going to be around for a bit. We should catch up.”

“Sure,” agreed Matt while thinking it would never happen.

Dylan put his hand on Matt’s shoulder. “Same time, same place tomorrow?” Dylan grinned again and Matt found himself grinning back. Dylan squeezed Matt’s shoulder a bit more firmly. “It’s good to see you, Matt. Catch you tomorrow.”

Matt watched Dylan walking down the road. He looked very athletic and was wearing new jeans and a collared, short-sleeved shirt. Matt turned and wandered down the driveway. He could still feel his shoulder where Dylan had squeezed it. He threw his schoolbag onto his chair and lay on his bed.

Matt’s room was a sleep-out attached to the garage. He liked being separate from the house and it certainly impressed his friends. Besides, if he lived in the house his friends wouldn’t come and visit. It was hunger that eventually prompted Matt to head into the main house.

“Hi, Jane,” said Matt quietly as he walked past his mother.

Jane did not respond. She was sitting in her usual place, the reclining chair in the lounge. Matt made a sandwich as quietly as he could. His friends were scared of Jane. She didn’t speak to them, she just stared and if there was much noise she would leave the room. The problems with noise had been the catalyst for Matt moving to the sleep-out. It wasn’t so bad now. Matt and Bill, his father, had learned how to navigate the day without upsets. No surprises, no mess, and no noise. Matt had long since stopped wondering what Jane thought about while sitting in her chair. She just looked out the window as if waiting for someone to come, or something to happen. It was just the way it was.

Matt returned to his room and flicked his computer on. Jed was online, “Bummer about last class, what a hag,” wrote Jed. Matt paused for a moment, funny, he’d forgotten about it already. “All good,” he wrote, “Game on.” Matt loved gaming and so did Jed.

Later when resting on his bed he heard the squeak of brakes and the familiar creak of his father’s car door. He called out, “Hey, Bill, come here.”

Bill walked over and leaned against the door frame. “What’s up?”

“Do you remember Dylan?”

Bill gave a puzzled look. “A friend of yours?”

“Nah, Simon.”

His father thought for a few moments before blowing out a long slow breath and nodding slowly, “Yes, I remember Dylan.” Bill raised his eyebrows. “Why do you ask?”

“Well…” Matt hesitated as he knew this was going to be awkward. “I met him today, after school. He’s back in town for a bit.”

Bill looked at Matt in silence for a few moments. “Please don’t mention it in front of Jane.”

Matt nodded. “After school tomorrow I’m going to meet some mates.”

Bill stood up from the door frame. “Okay, be back at six for dinner.”

Bill started to walk toward the house, paused and turned. “Dinner will be in twenty minutes.”