Prose

Jono’s school
combined junior and senior students from Year Seven through to Year Twelve, he
was in Year Eleven. Just as Jono rolled through the gates, the school bell
rang.
‘Get off of that
thing!’ ordered a teacher, ‘NOW GREEN!’ Jono got off skateboard without
replying. He pulled out his timetable and checked what class he had next when –
BAM! He had walked into Veronica Frix, the girl that he had had a crush on last
year.
Veronica is a cute
girl with long sleek brunette hair, large green eyes, small pointed nose, and
olive skin. At five-foot-eight inches, she had a slim figure with nice long
legs, small hands and perfectly shaped breasts. Veronica was wearing black
volleys with fluoro pink laces, a short blue denim skirt, a tightly fitted sky
blue singlet top and an unzipped black jacket.
‘Oh, sorry Jono,’
Veronica said, blushing pink, ‘I didn’t mean to... er, you know walk into you.’
Jono opened his mouth
but no sound came out so he closed it again. She is so beautiful, He thought.
‘Are you okay?’
Veronica said, looking worried.
‘Er- What? Yeah I’m
okay,’ stuttered Jono.
‘Are you sure?’ she
said soothingly, touching his shoulder.
‘Ah!’ Jono breathed,
he pulled his shoulder away, holding it gingerly.
‘What’s wrong with
your shoulder?’ said Veronica, while nervously removing the sleeve of his
jacket. Jono allowed her to see the heavily-bruised shoulder, the bruises now
three days old and starting to go a blueish-green.
Veronica just stared
at him with a gaping mouth and a look of horror on her face.
‘Who-? Did your dad
do this to you?’ she whispered.
Jono said nothing but
looked away as Veronica tried to look in his face.
‘Are you sure that
you are okay?’ she said unconvinced.
‘Yes...’ Jono lied,
tears now beginning to build while Veronica continued to try to make eye
contact with him.
‘I’ve got to go...’ he
muttered quietly, pulled his sleeve back on his shoulder and then looked down
at the timetable, ‘...to History!’ And he hurried passed her.
‘Well... Okay... Bye’
Veronica called nervously. People had begun to stare as Jono barged his way
through the crowd toward his admin classroom.
Why do I have to be
such an idiot every time I talk to her? Jono thought to himself.
After his admin
class, Jono began to go straight to his double History lesson, groaning at the
thought of an hour and a half of listening to a teacher talking about Ancient
Egypt or the Romans. But when he arrived at his classroom and walked inside he
found someone sitting in his seat. Jono hadn’t ever seen this boy before. As he
walked over, the boy looked up at him.
‘Oi! What are you
doin’ in my seat?’ Jono said aggressively.
The boy just sat
there staring with his arms crossed, while the others around them started
edging away. The boy suddenly laughed, stood up and stretched out his hand.
‘Sorry fella. Just moved
here from inland, name’s Boris Brown,’ the boy said with a very strong outback
accent.
Absolutely
bewildered, Jono took Boris’ hand and shook it.
Smiling Boris said,
‘Wanna sit down?’ and without waiting for an answer he turned to the boy
sitting on his other side and barked, ‘Oi move lard arse!’ Amazed, Jono stood
watching the short plump boy scrambled out of his seat.
Moving over Boris
said, ‘There’s your seat mate.’
Jono hesitated before
sitting down.
Could this be a
friend? He wondered, because he had never really had had a friend before.
As Jono took a closer
look at Boris, he noticed he had naturally good looks. He was tall for his age,
standing at about six feet. His skin was tanned dark (Jono supposed that this
was because of the harsh inland sun). Boris’ shoulder length dark brown hair
suited him. He had a longish pointed nose. As Boris continued to smile Jono
noticed that his teeth were all small and straight. His chin was small and
square which made him look stronger up close. His broad round shoulders didn’t
fit properly with his otherwise skinny body. Even though he didn’t have any
obvious muscle development, he was in good shape.
Boris was wearing a
pair of thick leather hiking boots, a pair of three-quarter camouflage cargo
shorts, a baggy t-shirt that said on the back Don’t like it, Stick it!, upon
reading these words Jono had a lot of trouble not laughing as the teacher walked
briskly in saying, ‘Okay, okay. Calm down everyone.’
When the lesson
ended, Boris was the first to pick up his bag (a Blackwolf backpack) and jog
out the room saying, ‘See you, mate.’ But as Jono put his book and pen into his
bag and swang it onto his shoulder he saw five of the Year Twelve rugby league
players following Boris down the corridor. Jono decided to follow them as he
was curious to see where Boris fitted in with the group. All five of them were
large and boisterous. Jono tried never to associate with them because they had
always spent their time bullying people and he was one of their previous
favourites.
The way the group
were carrying on made Jono feel uneasy because it reminded him of how they had
been when they started to bully him. That was way back when he had started
school but the memories were still fresh in his mind. Jono waited until they
had gone a certain distance ahead before following them. As he weaved through
the crowded corridor, Jono started to worry about what they would do when they
caught up with Boris. His worrying was cut short when abruptly everyone had
stopped moving. Jono continued to weave through the crowd that was beginning to
form a circle around Boris and the rugby players.
‘Oi! Oi, faggot!’ the
group’s ring leader called over to Boris.
‘Are you talkin’ to
me mate?’ Boris replied, seemingly calm.
‘Yeah! Yeah I am.
What are you gonna do about it?’ the ring leader said aggressively, beginning
to advance closer towards Boris.
‘Nothin’.’ Boris said
simply. ‘What can I do? How do I defend myself against a bunch of stupid, can’t
get hard, footballers?’ Boris said, mockingly.
The ring leader (whose
name was Mitchell Smash) began to raise his clenched fist and with a loud –
CRACK! Boris was on the ground! Mitchell Smash had knocked him off of his feet
and was laughing.
As Jono finally
pushed his way through the laughing crowd, he charged and tackled Mitchell
Smash just as he was raising his foot to stomp on Boris. He started punching
him with his fists. The crowd was cheering and jeering while Boris watched Jono
beat up Mitchell Smash, whose nose and eye were swelling nastily. The others in
the rugby league group started to advance menacingly on Jono. Two of them
grabbed his arms and forcefully dragged him off Mitchell Smash who, by now, was
getting to his feet whilst staggering groggily with blood trickling from his
nose and split lip. As Jono started to try to break his detainers’ grip, a
third punched him in the stomach, again, and again, until the principal, (Mr
Phillipson), showed up and made the two boys release him. All of a sudden he
was being hauled off to Mr Phillipson’s office
I must have blacked
out again, Jono thought. He looked up. Everyone watched horror struck as the
small procession headed toward the Principal’s office. Silent tears streamed
down his face, in his pain and anger.