Children of the Revolution

The Shamed Shamen

The last day of last term before recess

Sean Hastings, was not the average boy. Neither, was he treated as one. He knew he was different, and destined for great piety. Sean, stared outside his bedroom window, into the grey morning. His street was no different than any other Monday morning. The clank and rumble of a dustcart, crackled its reverse warning. A dog barked, pointlessly. A lone cabby, smoked impatiently, waiting for his customer. A

builder, struggled to start a cement mixer, and cursed loudly. Two young women, running for a bus, twittered to each-other, and scurried past the building site, blushing, as they received cheers of approval and wolf whistles. A stooped old lady, waddled gingerly, up to the cab driver, as he stomped on his cigarette, and opened the door for her.

The bus belched diesel smoke and crunched its gears to find forward motion. The girls waved at the builders, giggling, from a grease streaked bus window.

Sean watched an overweight man rushing for the bus, stuffing a half eaten sandwich into his mouth, as he grabbed the pole to mount the bus in time. His newspaper failed to catch the bus, and left the underneath of his arm, scattering it pages in the road, and then with some elegance, flew skyward, twirling like a flock of seagull-like sports headlines, only to land at the feet of 2 boys, who looked up at Sean.

They were smiling and in odd clothes. They were all in brown serge. Like a uniform.

They just pointed and waved. Sean waved back.

Suddenly, a screeching noise broke the silence. It was „Jay Jay‟, his jackdaw. The bird swooped onto the window sill, with a loud squawk.

Sean rescued a half eaten cereal bar from his pocket, and with his palm filled with crumbs, outstretched his hand. Jay Jay, jumped onto his wrist, and pecked hungrily, at the free breakfast, until it was gone, and then flew off.

Sean smiled, and then looked at his wristwatch. It was time to head for school.

He looked down in the street, and the strangely dressed boys had gone.

Sean was not good mixer.

To the contrary, he was taught from an early age, “friendship with the world meant enmity with God,” and so as far as being a candidate, for social acceptance, that just was not an option. Forced, to be a loner, to comply with his Mother‟s wishes, and that of the Almighty, had him outnumbered. Going to school, outflanked by bullies, was an issue, but he could deal with that. What he couldn‟t handle, was seeing his parents, destroy each other. He loved them, but they were unaware of the dangerous monster they had created within him.

At fifteen years of age, Sean was diagnosed, with a form of adolescent psychosis. After, electric shock therapy, and mismanaged treatment he was left prone to paranoia. He was a low level schizophrenic, with a multi-personality disorder.

He heard voices. He knew exactly, where they came from. It was, his friend „Josh,‟ who got him through his hell, where the medication failed too. Josh, had gotten him out of many scrapes, and near misses. Josh was cool, dressed in scruffy clothes, grubby, and barefoot. He smoked, and swore, a lot. He spoke, softly, in a strange American voice, and, looked like he could do with a good meal. He knew lots of tricks, and japes. He had petrol blue eyes, that would turn black, when he wanted Sean, "to do something important‟. That part, scared Sean, but usually his ideas worked out, for the best. He would start to speak like Josh, and do what Josh wanted, if he got into a fix. Sean understood Josh, and Josh understood him. They were a great team, and they were able to accomplish anything, together.

Whether, he liked it or not, short of running away, or being airlifted out of the country, by the Red Cross, nothing would stop "the voices‟. He didnt want them to stop. He was, one of, "the chosen ones‟. Nothing would ever change that. His strict upbringing, and family regimes at home, had cramped his style, to the point of asphyxiation. This was not the real life. This was a "holding camp, for the Greater Life‟. Inconvenient, as it was, but necessary. Apart from Josh, his Rubik cube, was his only friend, and he could master the puzzle in a record, 27 seconds.

Puzzles were, his life. And, life was a puzzle. His grades seemed easy, to get. School, as he soon discovered, was a haven for cloaking abuse, on all sides. Hostility, of every kind, and each day, was a struggle to survive the conflicts, let alone, warm to the hard bitten clan of teachers, who masquerade as his guides, for a happy and successful future. He was, a master of disguise. This ability, gave him the tools to dupe his enemies. He was a chameleon, and talented mimic. He knew how to distract and confuse. Josh was always there to help him, get what he wanted. He had known him, since he was little, and saved his life, more than once.

Josh helped him steal some glass hypodermics from sick bay. Josh got mad at a Mr Haynes, for hitting Sean with his walking stick, and told him to fill the syringe with ink and squirt the teacher, from behind the desk-lid, while Mr Haynes, had his back to the class. He was caught on this occasion, and sent with the "Black Book‟ to decide his fate at the Headmasters office. He had to wait outsider for 20 minutes after handing the book to his secretary. The Headmaster invited him in. Read his crimes out, and gave a punishment to fit them.

It was dated, and timed, with the words, in bold red ink “Six of the Best at break inside the main gym.” Sean handed the book back, to Mr Haynes, who waited with the rest of the class for the headmaster‟s verdict. As he looked over his tortoise shell half rims and a cruel smile crept across his face.

“Well, boy, it looks like this is your day of reckoning. I will speak to your parents of this matter and demand they take you in hand. Well let‟s see your God get you out of this one. Go to the back of the class and get out of my sight.” Mr Haynes rubbed a hand up the length his walking stick and raised it into the air pointing to a chair.

“Go on, Mr Chubb will put something on your backside, Ajax won‟t get off and good riddance to you.” The class giggled and jeered.

Josh was so mad. He knew what had to be done. Josh turned his eyes black, and stepped inside Sean, when things got this bad. This time, he gave Sean a shopping list. A tin of Baking soda, and a can a bottle of Lucozade. Sean grabbed his satchel and skipped the next lesson, to get to the corner shop. Running back in time for his appointment.

AT 10.25 Sean made his way to the gym, where the Rugby coach would administer his studded boot with uncompromising force. He was being frog-marched down the corridors, by two prefects, who had to deliver him on time. Mr Chubb was waiting with the headmaster, who already had a ringside seat. He would be offered a milky coffee, with three sugars, by his P.A Miss Bendall as light refreshment. To witness the event and make sure that the punishment was delivered with appropriate severity and to his satisfaction.

Josh told him, to "fake a dump‟.

Sean, now speaking in a peculiar Floridian drawl, saw a W.C and stopped dead in his tracks, and turning to the boy escorts, clutched his stomach.

“Hey, I gotta go. I‟m gonna s**t myself, if I don‟t.” Sean cried, wincing and hopping on the spot.

One boy twisted Sean‟s arm, and said. “We haven‟t got time for powdering noses, Hastings, get a move on, we‟re late!” The boys shoved him.

Sean with Oscar winning style contorted his face and blurted.

“Too late… it‟s filling my pants.” Grimacing, he squirmed and fidgeted.

The boys looked at each other with disgust, and with a silent nod, they bundled Sean through the toilet door, and waited outside. Shouting through the door, the taller one hurled the comment.

“Get it sorted out, you dirty little bastard. You‟ve got two minutes to clean yourself up. Ughhh! .. that‟s gross, that is.” The other boy laughed, and made a comment about Mr Chubb facing a bottom, brimming with squidgy pooh, and how hilarious that would be.

Josh told Sean, to take the baking soda and put it in his mouth. Then gulp some Lucozade. Sean stepped out of the toilet, and the boys continued to straddle him in military fashion, briskly walking and turning, to enter the gym .

The taller boy knocked, and they all bowled in. Sean‟s feet barely touching the ground.

“Right lads leave him there, will you.” The head master glared and looked Sean up and down.

“Well, what have we here? It is alleged, Hastings, you assaulted Mr Haynes during lesson time, using a medical syringe, you stole from the Nurse station. Am I right?” The Head pointed to the floor where he wished Sean to stand.

Josh was in charge now. Sean could feel his mouth frothing.

Sean looked at his shoes, and said nothing. He just couldn‟t. His mouth was about to explode, with the force of a fire extinguisher.

The Head, Mr Coates, was not a patient man. He was an army veteran and fought in both wars. Discipline, was a must. His Father exacted it, when required with buckle and belt, and it never did him any harm. Apart from the time, he perforated an eardrum with a cricket bat, for wearing scuffed shoes.

Mr Coates, was a rotund ruddy cheeked man, with out of control eyebrows, and an out of control view of violence.

“Cat got your tongue has it?” Coates snapped, and turned sharply to a stocky figure who framed up his shoulders. “Mr Chubb, if you would be so kind?” Motioning, with his hand, to the P.E instructor. P.E stood for physical instruction. Sean knew what kind, on this occasion. In terms of exercise which is good for you and discipline which is also good for you, whether you like it, or not.. The burly Welsh scrum half, stepped forward and yanked the boys trousers down, making him bend over a desk.

Lifting a muddy rugby boot high and before it could be thrashed at him, Sean, jerked uncontrollably, tore away from the grip of Chubb, and yelping, like a puppy outside a

pub , fell to the floor, convulsed and spewing white foam from his mouth. Twitching and writhing. Gurgling, flailing, and rolling his eyes. He had already secretly, unscrewed the soft drink in his pocket, where it flooded to create a convincing wet patch on his flannel shorts, the size of dinner plate and looking for all the world like a dramatic episode of incontinence.

“He‟s having a fit …loosen his tie.” Mr Chubb, was the school‟s first aid officer. Another, irony. He switched easily from tyrant to medic, within a second. Busy and comfortable, with both roles, it seemed.

Josh, had done a good job, and saved the day. Sean was taken by ambulance, where he was given the best of care. Leaving, a bewildered Matron, scratching her head, and offering no explanation, when Sean‟s parents picked him up later that day. All symptoms ceased, as he hugged his Mother, and he furtively glanced at his father who looked ashamed and disappointed. Sean, did not know, if the shame was empathy, or his father was denying him pity.

All that mattered was he was safe, until it all happened again, tomorrow.

As they drove off in the Ambulance, Josh, said to meet him in the graveyard later.