Keep on Running

'Right, you lot!’ shouted Mr Stokes at the start of the PE lesson. ‘Three times round the block. Now. Run!' William’s heart sank, along with the hearts of all the other boys in the class: everyone hated running round the block.

The boys’ grammar school was situated in a 1930's leafy suburb. The school's front entrance was in Wordsworth Road and its rear entrance in Shelley Road. The two streets were joined up by Browning Avenue and Coleridge Avenue which made a convenient rectangular circuit for the boys to run around. One lap would serve as a warm-up to some more interesting PE activities. But three laps, along with getting changed before and after the lesson, would mean that the whole hour would be wasted on running round the block.

Mr Stokes, known as Stubby Stokes to all the boys, was a short, squat, middle-aged and shaven-headed ex-army officer with tattoos up both arms. He was a strict disciplinarian with a short fuse and a formidable reputation. Hated and feared in equal measure, no boy dared challenge him. Even though corporal punishment had long since been banned, his punishments, for the slightest misdemeanour, were no less physical and no less painful: countless press-ups or sit-ups, endless running on the spot, and, worst of all, making the boys put themselves in a sitting position, backs against the wall and knees bent at ninety degrees, and remain in that position till their legs to turn to jelly and the pain made them cry.

William had always loathed PE and games anyway. He preferred quieter and more cerebral activities like reading, playing chess, and collecting stamps. He was a little overweight, too, which didn't help, and he lacked the competitive instinct that many boys seemed to have. He just couldn't see the point of getting all hot and sweaty and out of puff. And he would invariably come in last at everything and be shouted at and humiliated by Stubby.

In past years, Stubby, a once fit and competitive sportsman, would run a lap or two round the block himself, ensuring that every boy kept on running and completed all three laps. But this never happened these days as he was becoming older and fatter and lazier. In fact, the boys knew that getting the class to run round the block required no lesson planning, no equipment, and no effort on Stubby's part.

In the summer term, Stubby might station himself at one of the school entrances yelling 'Run, boy, run!' as he checked off each passing boy on his clipboard. But mostly he would set the class running and give his clipboard to any boy lucky enough to have a note excusing him from PE. He would then retire to his office with his coffee and newspaper. Some brave boys might then risk walking part of the way, and complete only one or two laps, if, that is, the boy with the class list could be bribed or bullied into checking them off. It was even rumoured that some of the older boys would hang around smoking in a conveniently placed alley-way off Browning Avenue.

Even so, the boys could never tell when Stubby would appear, sometimes at the Wordsworth Road entrance, sometimes at the Shelley Road entrance always looking to catch a boy walking or trying to cheat. On one occasion that William would never forget, Stubby was hiding in the hedge on the school’s boundary with Coleridge Avenue, and jumped out through a gap just as an unsuspecting William was trudging past, and bellowed 'Run, boy, run!' in his ear. William was so shocked and terrified that he lost his balance, tripped over, and sprained his ankle. As he limped into the school sick bay, fighting back angry tears, William vowed one day to get revenge.

                                                                                * * * * *

Shortly after William's seventeenth birthday, his parents bought him a car and driving lessons. He passed his test first-time and began driving to school. He was in the sixth-form now where PE and games were at last not compulsory. Occasionally as he drove out of school during a free period he would observe the younger boys being made to run round the block. Taking pity on any stragglers, he would sneak a couple into the back of his car and give them a lift part way round. He would gain enormous pleasure at the thought of getting one over on Stubby, but he still harboured the desire for a more fitting and satisfying revenge.

* * * * *

It was on his last day at school that Wiliam saw his opportunity. He had just sat his final ‘A’ level paper. As he got into his car to drive home for the last time, he noticed Stubby at the end of the drive, sitting in a deck chair in the summer sun, clipboard in one hand, coffee in the other, shouting at a group of boys as they ran round the block. William, fired up with post-exam adrenaline and emboldened by end-of-year euphoria tooted his horn, flashed his headlights, and yelled out of the window at the top of his voice, ‘Hey, Stubby!’

Stubby jumped up, dropping his clipboard and spilling his coffee. He was not used to being shouted at, and not used to being called by his nickname, although he was aware of it through some very unsavoury graffiti in the boys’ toilets.

‘Hey, Stubby!’ William called again, revving his engine.

Stubby turned, his face red with rage, and began marching determinedly up the long narrow drive towards the car park, already, no doubt, contemplating what kind of sadistic punishment he was going to inflict on his abuser.

William waited till Stubby was just a few yards away before putting the car into first gear, slamming the accelerator down to the floor and lifting the clutch. The car tyres screeched as the vehicle launched forward, heading straight for Stubby.

William had always intended to stop before he hit Stubby. But Stubby didn’t know that, and with no other option to escape, he turned tail and started to run.

William had never seen Stubby run before – it was more of a wobble – and he was enjoying the spectacle.

William was now just inches behind Stubby, who, to save himself leapt into the hedge bordering the drive. William came to a halt at the spot where Stubby, breathless and sweating with fear and exhaustion, had landed. William noted with a pleasing sense of justice, that a moist-eyed Stubby appeared to be rubbing his left ankle.

Savouring the moment, William drove slowly past, making his way towards the school exit where a group of incredulous and cheering boys were now gathering. As he pulled out of the drive to leave the school for the final time, he turned his head and with a triumphal grin, and a hand gesture that wasn’t in the Highway Code he yelled back ‘Run, Stubby, run!’