Sixth Form

Before the opening day of Sixth Form, Steve Nobody looked into the content of some of the courses. Social biology looked interesting, but his grade in biology was not high enough. Another possible subject was government and politics, but that just seemed boring. In the end, he chose law, history and art. On the first day, Steve entered the arena of teenage tribalism wearing trainers, jeans and a hoody. He got to know some new people on his courses and began to enjoy the relative freedom of studying without school discipline.

He saw some old faces as well. Gronk was there, but Steve intended to keep his distance. He wanted to get into Sixth Form life and have fun. It was not yet time for payback. And Fathead was lording it up amongst his group of Posheys. He stood with his legs a bit too far apart with beefy arms crossed. Fathead noticed Steve talking to a few boys and decided to let bygones be bygones. In a brisk strut, he approached Steve and held his hand out.

Fathead towered over Steve. “I just wanted to say, ‘no hard feelings,’ old boy,” he said, bypassing his usual verbosity.

Steve looked at Fathead, his assailant at school, expressionless.

“I’m trying to say I forgive you for all that business at school,” Fathead said with his arm still outstretched.

Steve leant in. “Not a chance… I won’t forget what you did.” Keeping his temper under control, he glared through the school bully.

Fathead’s eyes were like saucers and his mouth fell open. He did not have to bury the hatchet with this down at heel sort. After all, he was a Poshey and this kid was only an Outsider.

Who does he think he is? He should be grateful someone like me is even speaking to him, let alone offering such a magnanimous gesture.

Despite his superior status, Fathead was unnerved by that stare. He flinched and walked away, taking a puzzled look over his shoulder. By the time he met up with his friends, he regained the usual brashness.

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