10 PE (Part 1)

Mr Barker’s not happy. He stands there in his cling film tight tracksuit. You don’t have your kit?

No, sir.

I’m disappointed, Jason.

Yes, sir.

He looks down and sees I’ve got trainers on. You know you’re supposed to wear shoes to school?

I forgot, sir.

What are you like, lad? You’d forget your own head if it wasn’t screwed on.

I never know what to say to that one.

Well, we’ll be grateful for small mercies as at least you can run in those. He gestures to the office. Go in there and look in the box for a pair of shorts and a top.

I do as he says. I’m surprised to see Miss Hillard. She has a tight tracksuit on too, but she’s mega fit an I feel this fizziness in me.

She’s searching for something on a shelf, tiptoeing cos she’s short.

I kneel down to rummage through the box, smelling her perfume.

Forgot your kit again? she says.

Yes, miss.

She laughs. What a surprise. You better hurry up – the coach will be leaving soon, she says.

Yes, miss, I say, knowing if I look at her too long things will get complex in the underpants department.

Johnny Moran says he’s seen her naked in the showers.

All the boys were askin him for details, but I was like – in your dreams.

What was he doin in the girls’ showers anyway?

I find a vest an a pair of shorts, shoving them in my bag.

The other kids in my class moan as I come runnin out to join the line.

Come on, come on, shouts Mr Barker, clapping his hairy hands. We need to get on the coach.

We walk out of the PE block an across the main courtyard. We’re supposed to be in line but we break into twos and threes. I’m on my own, as per, cos Anne isn’t in today.

From a first-floor window, we look up to see someone drop their trousers an squish their bum cheeks against the glass.

We all start cheerin.

Mr Barker tells us to be quiet, scanning to see what’s so funny, but he’s missed the person moonin.

Come on, he says, usherin us like sheep onto the coach.

I’m on a seat near the front on the aisle side. The coach driver is as fat as a darts player an is readin the sports section of a newspaper spread across the massive steering wheel. He doesn’t bother raisin his head as we get on.

Mr Barker makes us be quiet and sets out the rules we have to follow on the coach, which he keeps callin a bus.

I realise I haven’t eaten an the pain in my stomach rushes through me. I look in my rucksack. All I have are fags an a can of Dr Pepper. The girl next to me, Donna Sharp, pulled a face when I sat next to her. She has chewin gum but I know she won’t give me any.

The heavy engine of the coach revs up.

Mr Barker and Miss Hillard take seats by the driver an the coach moves off.

Being in cars an coaches makes me sick, especially when I’ve not eaten. I’m fine on actual buses though, which makes no sense.

Straight off, I can feel myself gettin woozy.

I shuffle in the seat an Donna kicks off. What you creeping for? she says, kissin her teeth. I don’t want you creeping and stinking on me.

The girls in the seat behind are laughin.

Be quiet, shouts Mr Barker.

I don’t make eye contact with Donna an edge myself to the side of the seat.

An argument breaks out at the back of the bus. Mr Barker and Miss Hillard give each other looks.

I’ll go, says Miss Hillard an she stands up an begins walkin down the aisle. No yelling, she yells.

She’s standin next to me as the bus turns a tight corner, gripping the top of my seat. I can feel that she’s close, seeing her delicious shape in that tracksuit, sensing the fizz in me, and then she loses her balance and falls onto me, puttin a hand on my thigh, causing laughter.

Sorry, she says. Her hair brushes my face and she smiles. In a flash, she’s back up and walkin to the rear of the coach to tell off the usual crowd.

I fucken swear, I have to hunch forward for the rest of the journey to hide the complexness goin on in my underpants.  

Luckily, Donna’s too busy talkin to her mates about Sara Zondi getting expelled for givin Krish beatings to notice anything.

 

***

Mr Barker is such a perv. I mean, why does he have to stand an watch us get changed? Like, what is that about?

I find a corner, which I’m grateful for cos there’s less chance of the other boys spottin how dirty my clothes are.

Mr Barker walks between us, goin up, then down. Some of the boys are frownin behind his back an makin hand signs.

The runnin vest I put on is way too big for me, along with the shorts. I pull the strings an tie them to keep the shorts from fallin down.

Robbie Flintlock laughs at me an says, How can you forget your kit every time?

Dunno.

He sniggers, pullin on his top. He has muscles an I feel skinny an weak next to him.

Move it, boys, shouts Mr Barker, clapping his hands like some fucken failed football manager.

It’s windy an cloudy outside. We stand in a group by the running track, shiverin. Miss Hillard takes a group to do the long jump, triple jump and shot putt. Mr Barker does the track events an he wants to do the 1,500 metres. There’s a massive moan.

Don’t give me that, says Mr Barker.

I still feel ropey from emptying my guts the night before. All I wanna do is lie down an sleep cos I’m so tired.

Mr Barker goes on, We have the schools' competition coming up and I know we can do better this year. I want golds and the 1,500 is where I think we can be winners. Come on then, let’s do some warm ups.

He unzips his tracksuit top and tosses it on the grass. He’s wearing a white tee-shirt that’s also too tight. He does star jumps and we have to copy what he’s doin, keeping in time with him an trying not to notice his junk flopping about. The others are barely movin, especially the girls.

Come on, he shouts, wantin to motivate us.

No one is bothered cept me. I do the star jumps properly, raisin my arms higher than everybody else. I want to shake off the tiredness. Runnin is the one thing I’m any good at. When I’m in a race an my legs are movin, my heart pumpin, all I’m thinking about is my breathing. There’s nothing else. All the dramas an the arguin, screamin an fightin disappear when I’m out in front, leadin a race.

I start pushing myself to do the star jumps faster.

There we go, look at Jason, says Mr Barker, that’s more like it.

Someone says, Little wanker.

Others go:

Twat.     

Rodent.

You’re gunna get it.       

Cock-munch.                         

 

Annnddd, squat thrusts, he shouts.

There’s another groan.

I look at what Mr Barker is doing an copy him.

The rest aren’t interested.

Sharon McBride says, It’s too cold for this.

I’ll get you all warm and toasty with a fart, says Johnny Moran.

She’s directly behind him an says, I’ll slice your balls off with a Stanley knife if you do.

It’s coming. You better get ready.

Don’t you dare.

Mr Barker tells us to stop what we’re doin an starts with his lectures.  

 

***

When the warm ups are finished, we go to the start line on the track.

Johnny Moran comes up to me an says, I’m gunna trip you up.

Normally, I don’t talk back cos it only makes worse trouble, but I’ve had enough of the fucken idiots an I say, Like you could catch me.

The girls and boys who hear me say:

Oh my gosh         Bruv, you gunna take that?

     Shame           You got told        Jason’s taken his brave pills today

Johnny shoves me in the back an I nearly stumble over.

You’re dead, he says.

I know he can beat me up, but I run at him an push him in the chest.

Everyone goes ballistic.

Mr Barker grabs Johnny before he punches me.

Enough, he shouts, telling the others to calm down an blowin his whistle in my ear. He orders me an Johnny off the track an onto the grass. When he’s got the others to behave, he turns to me an says, What’s all this about?

I don’t speak.

Cat got your tongue, eh? Out with it, what’s going on?

Nothing, sir, I say.

Don’t play games. John?

Like he says, sir, it was nothing. We was messing.

Mr Barker doesn’t believe us. Whatever it is between you, pack it in – the pair of you. Am I understood?

Together, we say, Yes, sir.

Move it, he says an he blows his fucken whistle again, hurtin my ears.

I don’t bother lookin at Johnny. I know he’ll be giving me evils.

I walk to the start with the rest of them.  

There are about fifteen of us bunched together, boys and girls. Robbie Flintlock is speedy. Sharon McBride is pretty quick but she likes sprintin an can’t be arsed with long distance. Godfrey Crowe I have to keep an eye on. When he wants to be, he’s well fast as he’s much stronger an bigger than most of us, an Jamie Bould can be quick too but he’s not been the same since he was stabbed in the thigh with a compass in a maths class for tellin girls to look under the table an when they did he flashed his big willy at them.

Mr Barker stands to the side of the track and puts the whistle to his lips.

I can hear my stomach rumblin. I’m feelin well rough.

He raises his arm.

On your, marks, get set….

He blows the whistle an lowers his arm.

I start runnin. All I can feel in the beginning is what’s not right. I don’t have my runnin trainers on an the ones I’m wearin rub my feet. My shorts are too long an I’m worried they’re gunna fall down. My belly is empty an my head is hurtin from the fucken poison I drank last night. There are these murders in me an part of me wants to stop as runnin for the school is stupid. Trying to win competitions is dumb. I get why a lot of the others don’t care about winning or losin.

Some do, though.

I can see Godfrey is out in front early, followed by Robbie, an Madeline Booth, who I know is good at gymnastics but I keep forgettin that she’s a decent runner too. Johnny Fuckface is behind her.

An then slowly, I begin to feel myself change. The more I run, the more my body feels okay. The aches in my muscles, belly and head disappear. When I’ve nearly completed my first lap, I’m away from the grunts, moans and swearin in the pack an on the heels of the leaders.

I feel the ragin an the murders in my brain fizzle out.

I focus on my breathing, tryin to keep it steady.

My feet hurt an I know I’ll have blisters, but it’s fine.

Johnny glances over his shoulder. He wants to go faster on the third lap, not the second, but he knows that I was telling the truth – once I’m in front of him, there’s no chance of him catchin up, so he goes early. What he doesn’t realise is that I’m fine with him picking up the pace, cos it gets us nearer to Madeline, Robbie an Godfrey.

I hold my speed for a hundred metres. Johnny now understands that what he thinks is fast for him is pure leisure for me. I’m close enough for him to know I’m there, but I’m hanging back so that he tells himself that he can beat me, so that he’s stressin an frettin about me taking him over, burning his lungs like the fool he is. Once I’m on the last stretch of lap two, I go wide so he doesn’t do anything snidey an I start pushin harder.

Johnny is breathin heavy. He looks at me comin level an his face is purple. He wants to call me names but he doesn’t have the puff.

As for trippin me up, he wishes he could.

I look ahead and see Madeline overtaking Robbie.

Mr Barker is on the side, clenchin a fist. That’s more like it, he shouts.

The fool thinks it’s him I’m runnin for.

I keep going. I’m beginning to like how I feel. The aches have gone. My arms are swingin. Feet poundin. Blood rushin. Everything workin together like my body is an engine.

Godfrey leads the race.  

I pass Robbie, who doesn’t seem to mind. He gives me a wink an says, Go on, Jason.

Madeline is on the heels of Godfrey. She seems to be getting quicker an I realise she’s the one I need to worry about. There’s still some distance to make up.

I’m goin fast already but I have to flick the switch for my turbo boosters to start closing metres. We’re already lapping a few of the slow coaches in the class.

Alan Banks has decided to walk the whole distance.

I kind of get where he’s coming from.

Like, maybe we’re the idiots for running, for doing what Mr Barker an Miss Hillard an all the stupid teachers tell us to do cos it’s all pointless. It won’t make a fucken ant’s worth of difference when we come to leave school an have to get jobs.

But I enjoy running. I’m not doing this for anybody else or tryin to beat people to prove I’m the best. I’m doing this for me cos I love the feeling of, just for once, things not being broken. Like, when I’m running, it’s the only time I’m not scared, worried or fucked up.

Madeline moves to the front.

Godfrey’s gaspin an his head is wobbling an floppy like a toy. I pass him on the shoulder, knowing he ain’t gunna be dirty an try trippin me up.

We’re on the last stretch of the third lap. I don’t know if I have enough metres left to pass Madeline.

It hurts, but I try to go faster an steadily, bit by bit, I’m catchin her up, hearing the sound of her shoes on the track, seeing the mad criss-cross of white scars on her legs that she never talks to anyone about when they ask how she got them.

I go level with her an we look at each other, racin to the last section.

We push ourselves as hard as we can.

I edge past her an then I’m on my own.

Nothin an no one can touch me.

I’m an eagle. A jet plane. Supersonic.   

Mr Barker presses his watch as I cross the line an gives me a slap on the arm. Great race, lad, brilliantly done. You paced that like a professional. You’re a natural.

Madeline finishes, then Robbie, Godfrey an Johnny F.

They smile at me. Even Fuckface, as he catches his breath, gives me a look an nods a silent, Well done.

We sit on the grass an watch the others come in one by one.

Robbie flops next to me an says, That was some race you ran there.

Cheers, I reply.

You’re lightening.

I don’t know what to say back an just nod. Compliments freak me out. I’m more used to the abuse that Alan is getting.

Mr Barker is screaming, Run, boy, run.

Alan walks like he’s off to the shops for his mum.

Mr Barker struts onto the track. Why aren’t you running?

I don’t believe in it, says Alan.

What do you mean, you don’t believe in it?

Calm an collected, he goes to Mr Barker, It’s against my religion.

Robbie says to me, Respect to Al. No fucks given there.   

Some of us start cheerin Alan’s name an clappin.

It’s like he’s the real winner of the race, although Mr Barker goes an spoils it by orderin Alan off the track an blowin his whistle at us to keep quiet.

 

***

Part II https://www.abctales.com/story/mark-burrow/pe-10-part-ii