July 1990; I'm just waiting now for the curtains to close on my life. As I've broke many legs in the show that was Daubeney, the curtains are now slowly coming down and the cheers of all those in the show are drowning me.
Sitting at my scared and bubble gum tortured desk, not knowing when the day is going to come I am just waiting. Waiting is all I can do. The class room, musky, the air thick with a shuddersome ore, thats only seems to make it that much harder to breath. Yet outside the cobwebbed and dusty windows the sun gleefully shines, whispering through the window panes "There is hope, still yet to come." Watching the plants dance along the window ledge hearing, infused sounds of everything around me, some happy ones some not so, some seek to destroy me but not intentionally, but for my own good. Maybe the sun today isn't speaking to me at all, but is speaking out loud and clear to my mother. My eyes are now bathed in tears ready to break their dykes and as one clear crystal tear escapes, taking its path down my cheek and landing on my lap, I feel what I thought was the sun's rays miraculously taking solid form and tightly, softly grab me by the shoulders. "Don't cry". Turning around feeling the warmth from each single finger tip, I see the face that I had forsaken slightly and now looking and it wished I never. Stewart is with me now and today will be easier to handle, now knowing he has forgiven me for being with Cemal most of the time.
As we all come back from playtime the heavy bag my mother made me carry to school on the bus were to be opened and shared. My leaving party is here. Now party's, supposed to be a joyous occasion and even with the balloons, streamers, party hats and foods such as Quavers crisps, Fireballs, BBQ chicken wings, pilau rice and so on, every one of us are not remotely happy. Cracking smiles on our faces, the awkward "I don't know what else to do" smiles people do.
Ms Crowley tells us that we can have playground time again to play games and have some fun. Rigging up one of those large chested, two tape deck systems with the inbuilt mic, she plays music that we have been listening to all year. Listening to songs such as Vogue, Turtle Power, Nothing compares to you, Should I go or should I stay? and other random songs recorded of the radio and from records my sister had.
The music fades in the distance as we all play. Stewart and Jags having words at the bars surprisingly, we're allowed to use both the younger's playground and the Herculean play ground, a huge scale to frolic in. The sun and clouds cloak our sadness and even help us become more high, enjoying in what it seems to be our last day. Jags and Stewart's words end and I'm still spinning in circles, hands out wide watching them all stuff their faces of the food of Hades. Running back indoors, Jags quickly returns to the ground with two large bean bags one green, the other a not so perfect yellow. He darts into the younger's, our playground, I want to follow but don't.
"Who wants to play kiss chase?" Dee shouts, whipping her long braided sand blonde hair as if she is the child of Medusa. "If you playing come here" as she stands right in front of the hut in the corner of the Herculean playground. Stewart is first, Constantina, Aaron, Alton and Gullie. "We play normal kiss chase first, then you have to chase Rogue after. He's leaving so give him a sloppy one." Yeah I disliked the bitch but from her actions I felt a little love now. The two bitches are finally getting together, but it took one, forcefully to bow out. All agreed and ready to pucker up. Now, when did this whole kiss chase game come about? Was it only us that played it? The rules were simple enough it seemed, you'd kiss the person you most wanted to kiss but you would first have to hunt them down like the men in the "George Wright over the fence fox hunting" paintings, using their friends as hounds searching for the blood that they so eagerly crave to land that kiss of "I like you" on the cheek of that lucky and in some cases unlucky sod. As always, girls were to go first. Darting in all directions I follow Alton knowing fully well I'd be safe with him.
Description: Aaron's best friend, geeky. Short and well built, not fat but nicely rounded in all the right places, meaning legs, arms, neck and chest. No jelly belly. Short, mouse dark brown, bowl type cut hair, a little longer at the back going in to a V shape. Always has to bring in something from the hospital for show and tell. Accident prone, Has one scare on his left knee, a straight one, looks inflicted by a blade, very clean cut, stitched up. One scare under his chin, M shaped, said he fell of his scooter. Left hand in cast, falling of trampoline when on a caravan trip. Speaks with a soft, well spoken voice but still uses the word "Init" (Rachael doesn't use that word). Glasses, two coca cola bottom lenses, frames in a thin red wire. His lips are plump, but his Chimpunky, yellowing pink patched cheeks make me feel gross to ever go near him. He'll probably be a model when he's older and starts with the wearing of contact lenses or Laser eye surgery.
Looking back I see Stewart is with Jags again and I start to feel a rage that I possible won't be able to control just like the time I was playing rounders for P.E and I miss the ball, every one laughed including the teacher. The children barked "Out!" with the hairy teacher crossing his arms nodding at his approval of their taunts. "Miss this then." That was the first time I drew blood from another homosapien. That teacher didn't come back to school for a while.
As Alton and I get to the end of the Herculean playground, I sway my stride and make a sharp turn to intercept whatever is going on between them. Dee, she's coming for me, "Piss off Dee" I yell out. Running and closing in on my two love interests, Jags sprints off to the sides Stewart starts to run in a pace as if he's waiting for me to give him the pole in a relay race.
"Roeroe, come here" holding his hand out, I nudge a little faster speeding, and the theme tune to 'Thundercats' booms through me. He directs me to our play ground. he goes through the bricky entrance first, my left shoulder, holding on to his hand, skims the brick, a graze is left. Heading, straight to the bush barriers, we both dive in forgetting there is nothing soft at the other side. But there is.
The two bean bags, in the thickest part of the bush. The bush clouds the sights of prying, lip puckering, fox hunters. No one is in our playground, they're all in the Herculean one, wanting to be giants.
"Pinned me down, my heart is throbbing with fear as his eyes look at me with those almost soulless eyes. His mouth begins to twitch, he's gripping harder on my wrists which are above my head, spread to the sides. Smile. Slow motion, children screaming loudly, playground bell rings "In Time" a teacher shouts out. Play ground bell still donging like thunder. His lips touch mine and he pushes down. I push back."
That same feeling I felt with Stewart all those weeks ago, is so much stronger now. The thought of knowing I probably will never see him again makes me want to kiss him now. Laying down on the bean bags, we lay at each other's side, his arm underneath me and the other on my belly. He kisses me again. And the kiss is wonderful. He begins to prise open my lips with his tongue and first it feels sticky, cold and almost dry. Moistening with every forceful slip, I just open my lips a little more and lick it. Squeezing me with his arms and wrapping his well shaped legs round my spidery ones, he is the young version of Ryan Phillipe. Every moment seems like an hour of true bliss only to be interrupted minutes later with closing voice asking where the both of us have gone.
The voices fade in to the distance all towards the Building entrance. Playtime for us now must be over. We stay in our embrace a little longer, no almost 30 minutes longer. Because when e leave the bush barrier we were confronted by the Care-taker who had been called and sent to look for us on the school grounds.
School ends as the bell traumatically reminds me that this is my last day with them all. My mother comes to my class, meaning there isn't even a last time with Jags. I asked her if I can go and say by to Cemal as he hasn't been in class all day since he had be put in isolation for flashing us in the class room that morning. Ms Crowley wan't impressed, calling him "A disgusting, degenerate cur." She lets me go to see him, while she chats with my teacher mentioning one word I will remember from then on "Dominica".
I begin my travel through the bottom hall and at the other side is Cemal, he must have been released from the prison to say bye to me. Clutching something in his hands, we both run towards each other. The pulsating sounds of our feet sending shock waves of love through the hall has the class room that inhabits it to all look out of the window. Bodies becoming one we hug and we share our "I'll miss you"s, he hand me a blue car and tells me never to forget him and I know I never will. Both sobbing at the of our show the curtains have now closed, but I refuse to leave without one last encore, I land a kiss on his closed lips and get to see his 32 gleaming suns once more, before we both turn back to head to the backstage of our life. Probably never to see each other again.
I have no idea what is going to happen from here on. Fixing on my seat belt my mother asks if I'm okay. I'm lifeless and so dramatically as she starts the car and heads home I'm wishing that the car crashes and that I go away with my ever lasting memory of Jags, Jerome, Cemal and my dear Stewart.
August 1990, Bags packed and ready to go to, up north to Chorley. Ramona my ever moaning sister and I have been taken to the train station by our mother. To journey for the first time up north alone. Me with my Gameboy and one Tetris game and her reading her 'Seventeen' magazine (Funny I'm sure it was Cameron Diaz at the front or someone that looked like her). We have ham and cheese sandwiches, crisps and juices to last the ever so long journey to Preston train station. At least my grandparents have Horses and part own a snooker club.
I can't help but still think of what I'm leaving, what I've left behind. I don't ever want to forget their faces, at least I'm still in contact with Annah. Chorley is a funny place. Somehow it's populated with only white people, how the hell did that one happen? Nothing like London. In chorley they call my sister a 'Blacky' and they call me, funny enough "Mowgli". Hours on the train trip make me welcome death, the clickerty-clacks and the swaying steward and her trolley, asking if any one wants tea or coffee like them annoying Air-stwards on British airways. Please!
Part 2 will come next week homosapiens. Thanks again for reading and please do let me know what you are thinking of my mini series so far.
For Z and J
© 2010 - 2011. All rights reserved N P Rogue Laudat-Scott 'Mind of Rogue' and 'Memoirs of Marbie'