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There is no shame in running away from a fight you can’t possibly win. Hal repeated his dad’s words like a talisman as he raced into the boys’ washroom and slammed the toilet door shut just seconds before Michael and his minion caught up with him. He held his breath as the older boy slammed his fists against the moulded plastic, but the door held.
“How long do you think you can hide in there, freak?” a voice jeered. That would be Timothy, the one with an alcoholic father, absentee mother, stuck in the same grade since two years and had hands the size of dinner plates.
“What! No smart comebacks? Is ickle Hamish scared?” And that was Michael, the bane of Hal’s existence. Ever since Hamish had been skipped up a grade, there hadn’t been a day when he hadn’t prayed that Michael would simply disappear.
He still couldn’t help it, “I’m not afraid of you. You’re nothing but a stupid bully, who cheated during the Math test.”
“You’ll be sorry for that, you little twerp!” Michael screamed. Hal’s heart thudded against his ribs and he flattened himself against the far wall as they rattled the door once more.
“What the hell is going on here?” a high firm voice brought the rattling to an abrupt stop. Hal could hear the boys move away from the door. That wasn’t the surprising bit.
The voice was female.
There was a girl…in the boys’ bathroom.
Michael sounded equally scandalized, “This is the boys’ washroom. You can’t come in here.”
The answering voice was arch, “See this, ‘Prefect’. I can go anywhere.” The voice turned sharp, “Who’s inside the toilet? Hey, you in there, are you hurt?”
Not yet, Hal wanted to say as he sagged against the door in relief, but he settled for a croaky, “I’m fine.”
“You, Gorillas. Yes, I’m talking to you”, the voice was still calm. “If you don’t want detention, I suggest that you walk out and keep walking.”
“No,” the voice shook with false bravado as Hal heard Timothy’s lumbering footsteps move away from the door. He scrambled for the latch even as his hands shook. But there was no way he could stay in there and have a girl get beaten up in his place. Even if the only help he could offer was to be the first victim.
“Timothy Horton”, the steel-cold voice froze Hal and stopped Tim in his tracks. “If you take one more step, your weenie will regret that decision for the rest of your life. Now leave, you two.”
There was a pin-drop silence before two sets of footsteps moved to the door. But Michael had to have the last word. “Catch you later, freak.”
The girl…Prefect spoke again, her voice warm and unthreatening, “You can come out now. They’re gone.”
This was humiliating, but he wasn’t bleeding, hadn’t acquired new bruises, none of his teeth were loosened. That counted as a victory in his book, right Dad?
He opened the door to come face to face with his unexpected rescuer. She was a head taller than him, with a halo of curly hair and sharp black eyes. There was prefect badge on her lapel but she was a far cry from being prim and proper. In fact, she looked downright unruly next to Hamish in his crisply ironed uniform.
There was a smudge below her lip, chocolate, dirt under her fingernails, reddened wrists, volleyball player, stayed after school for practice, member of the girls volley-ball team. A filled bottle in her hand and a wet patch on her shirt collar which was carelessly open, no tie, came in to have a drink of water. Prefects were chosen a grade above his, which made her two years older than him, so twelve.
It had taken less than five seconds. He cleared his throat self-consciously, “You’ve done your bit now. You can return to your volleyball practice.”
She rolled her eyes at the derision in his voice. “You’re the kid who’s been skipped up a grade, right? Here’s a tip, genius. When someone saves your arse, you say thank you.”
“I was fine”, Hal retorted, the tips of his ears turning red.
“Right!” She eyed him doubtfully. “Don’t get me wrong. Hiding from them was the smart thing to do.” Her voice again took on the tone of natural authority, “Look, if those gorillas bother you again, let one of the prefects or the teachers know.”
He nodded non-committally. Like that was ever going to happen.
She left only to tuck her head back around the door, a second later, “Hey, how did you know about the volleyball?”
She just looked naturally curious. Well, that would change once he explained what he did.
Instead, something happened that as per a certain old blog-post, had happened to a Holmes only once before.
“That was awesome!” her voice held nothing but warm, honest praise. Then added, “You’re weird.” But the voice was still warm, not mocking. Hamish realised that his mouth had fallen open like a guppy fish.
“I’m Mia”, she offered in a friendly voice, as they left the washroom, walking side by side.
“Hamish”, he responded, his voice all croaky again. He was so shocked that he forgot to be rude. They had walked almost to the school gate.
“Your mum named you Hamish?” she giggled. “Why would she do that? It’s no wonder why those idiots picked you.”
Hal bristled. He liked his name. It wasn’t common. “I’m named after my dad…one of my dads”, he added defiantly, highlighting the real reason why he got bullied so frequently.
She didn’t bat an eyelid, but continued in a matter of fact tone, “Good for you. I only have my mum.” For some reason, she looked defiant now. “Not that I need a father. My mum is equal to ten loser guys”, she added proudly.
“All guys aren’t the same,” he couldn’t help but defend his battered Y chromosome.
She eyed him with a smile, “Don’t worry, your dads must be swell. They stuck around, right?”
Someone called her from the direction of the grounds and she yelled a reply before turning to him and sticking out her hand. “You’re weird, but it was nice meeting you, Hamish.”
Hamish eyed her hand like it was about to explode.
She harrumphed impatiently and reached out to clutch his hand and tug it up and down in an ungainly fashion. Hamish was mortified, having seemingly lost all voluntary control of his upper limb muscles.
“And that’s called a handshake, genius. See you around.” She ran back to her waiting friends.
Hamish walked home in a daze, unable to make sense what had just happened.
Maybe writing a blog would help.