Who Cares Who Wins? (Boyxboy)

My heart sank as the taxi drove through the main entrance of St Augustine’s, my expensive and very exclusive boarding school at 3pm. I hated the place purely because of the people in it.

Yes! Teachers and fellow students alike. There were very few people that I got on with or liked. I was picked on by most teachers for the simplest of mistakes and bullied by Toad, my name for my nemesis, Trevor Harrington, and the rest of the rugby team for whatever reason they ever dreamed up.

Other students therefore felt I was fair game. If it was good enough for the rugby team, it was good enough for them, and so they picked on me too. I seemed to be everybody’s punch bag.

It appeared that being of mixed race in a predominately Caucasian school was deemed as being one of the good enough reasons.

I had no one that I could call a friend because other boys, even those few of non Caucasian ethnicities, were too scared of being seen associating with me. The one Caucasian boy who voiced his opposition to the treatment I was being subjected to and actually had the balls to challenge Toad was ceremoniously marched off to the toilets to be introduced to the bog pan, head first.

I was publicly ridiculed, jeered at, and mercilessly persecuted, anywhere and whenever possible, within the school. Going to the bathroom or toilet was an unwelcome necessity and l had to be watchful on entering and whilst I was inside.

Lessons were no different. I was usually forced to sit alone near the front of the class. Often paper pellets, soaked with water, were fired at me from behind despite teachers being present.

Occasionally a large wad of wet paper would be secretly tossed onto the ceiling above my head, only for it to fall down at some stage of the lesson onto either my books or my unsuspecting head.

It seemed it was always me that received the cautions for disturbing the class.

Although my Dad knew why I hated the school, he still insisted that I saw out my final two years of schooling here.

His reasoning? That it would open doors and make a man of me.

Bollocks! It was because his now pregnant girlfriend, Angela, couldn’t be bothered to help look after me and it made life simpler for him by having me out of the way. He knows it too but won’t admit it.

Ever since Mum tragically died, five years ago when I was 11, I’ve been offloaded, either to boarding school, or palmed off to various relatives during the holidays if he could.

I know he has a highly demanding job, travelling back and forth to the Far East. I understand that he works really hard but I’ve barely spent any time with him over the last few years. The little leisure time he claims to have seems to be exclusively reserved for Angela, who lives in Hong Kong.

What didn’t help my case, when pleading to change schools, was that my grades were good. Actually very good indeed. I am getting top marks in almost all subjects which has made him really proud and he feels justified in paying the high fees for my tuition.

The only fly in the ointment is I flop at any sport and this school was sports orientated and I had made my disinterest perfectly clear right the moment I enrolled.

That was my mistake as actually sports orientated is so not the right description for this awful place. Sports mad is far more accurate. Students are encouraged to live, think, and breathe sporting activities. Those that didn’t and rebelled were quickly shown the error of their ways. If they didn’t conform they soon moved on.

I didn’t conform and despite my best efforts to be moved on I hadn’t been, so therefore I didn’t fit in.

Music and meditation helped me to survive. Meditation was something that my Thai mother had taught me, much to the irritation of my father. Being in touch with my inner self gave me solace and, combined with my love of music, it built up my fortitude to face another day.

I had been able to keep the fact that I meditated from everyone at school, except my roommate, until my second year when I was first overheard chanting by my main tormentors in the hidey-hole I had found in the storage room at the back of the maintenance workshop. Then later they caught me again in a deep trance-like state in the same place. From then on I was classed as a weirdo and constantly given grief over it.

I had only shared a room my first two years with a really nice guy called Bobby. His parents eventually transferred him because of not fitting in and the bullying. After that no one wanted to share with me and I enjoyed the freedom that not sharing a room brought.

With my new guitar slung across my back, and lugging a large suitcase and large hold-all containing most of my worldly possessions, I walked into the main building and negotiated the busy corridors, heading for the dormitories.

I assumed that my dormitory would be the same one as I had the past 4 years and, true to form, my name was printed on a white card in its polished brass metal frame on the door.

I was horrified to see another name above it. Clifton Stuart.

Pushing the slightly ajar door fully open revealed my new roommate. A very fit looking boy that I had never seen before, stripped to the waist, doing sit ups in the middle of the room.

“I’m nearly done!” He breathlessly advised, as he continued to perform and finish his routine, counting quietly under his breath the number of sit ups he had performed.

I was annoyed to see that he had placed his things on my bed on the left and not on the bed on the right. I dropped my bags and stood still, fuming, as I waited patiently for him to finish.

“You’ve taken my bed!” I whinged as soon as he started to get to his feet. “Top name means bed on the left..., bottom name means bed on the right. Obviously you’re not clued up on boarders etiquette then?”

A redness appeared instantly on his cheeks as he profusely apologised saying he was new here and he hurriedly moved his bags. He then held out a hand. “I’m Clifton Stuart but I prefer to be called Cliff. I take it you’re Alexander Morgan then?”

“Didn’t take much working out if that’s my bed and that’s the name on the door is it?” I sarcastically answered as I pointed to the bed and then the nameplate on the door, ignoring the proffered hand.

“I have said sorry,” he answered as he wiped his offered hand awkwardly on his shorts before picking up his bags from the bed. “I didn’t unpack as I wanted to ask you what bed you wanted first.”

His words threw me and I felt my cheeks flush. I’m glad that my dark skin hides most of the redness. “Oh! Thank you.” I managed to blurt out. “I didn’t realise. It’s just that I’m not used to sharing a room and your being here has taken me by surprise.”

I closed the door and picked up my bags and placed them on my now vacated bed and began to unpack with my back towards him.

The sound of the door bursting open made me jump.

The voice of Toad rang out. “What’s all this? Looks like Slack Alice has got a roommate this term.”

Toad, with two boys following behind him, strutted over towards Clifton. “You better watch out for Alice here as he’s likely to try boning you when you’re asleep. That’s why he usually rooms alone as no one else trusts the queer bastard.”

I was glad to see that my new roommate didn’t laugh and only raised a questioning eyebrow as he looked at me.

“Trevor Harrington, Captain of the Senior Rugby XV,” Toad announced as they both shook hands. Toad pointed to a fair haired boy first and then a dark haired boy. “This is Kasper Johnson, the Vice Captain and Fabian Hayes, our scrum half. Coach says you’ve got a reputation of being a classy player. He’s banking on you this year to be our big surprise.......”

There was a knock on the door and a feeble voice called out, interrupting Toad. “Clifton Stuart? The Headmaster wants to see you immediately.”

“Fuck you Finlay! You brown-nosing little toe rag. How dare you interrupt me!” Toad ranted as he grabbed hold of Finlay by the lapels on his jacket, lifting the small junior errand boy off his feet and, with Kasper’s and Fabian’s help, took him down the corridor towards the main stairwell. By the cries of help that followed I knew that the poor boy had been ceremoniously dumped, arse first, into the water fountain dirty cup receptacle.

“Which is the quickest way to the Headmasters office please?” Clifton asked politely.

“If you remove Finlay from the predicament he has found himself in he will take you,” I answered, turning my back on him and began to unpack my belongings once again.

As I heard the door close softly I let out a deep sigh. Sharing my room with a member of the elite rugby team was all that I needed.

I had to act, and act fast to protect myself. I had no chance of changing roommates even if I had been able to. Who would want the death wish of sharing with me? This new boy hadn’t a clue what trouble he was causing me and once Toad and the others had filled him in with all their distorted details about me he could easily make my life a misery.

I built a barricade between his bed and mine using all the furniture in the room. His wardrobe faced his bed, and so did his chest of drawers, so he could access his clothes. I strung up my spare blanket between the wardrobes to give me total privacy.

I was now fully prepared and was pleased with my efforts to protect myself from him even looking at me.

I then turned my attention to putting my two posters up and, after carefully removing them from the tube, I rolled them the opposite way to uncurl them. I then made some blue tack pliable in my hands before putting some in each of the corners.

Over the holidays I had been sent a poster of Bright and Win from the Thai BL series, Still 2Gether, and I placed that on the wall that ran alongside my bed.

I stuck my favourite poster of Due from the Thai series ‘Underwear’ in its usual spot above where my head rested, before stepping back and admiring them.

I unzipped my acoustic guitar from its case and, after quickly tuning it, I began to play ‘Everything’ by Scrubb, the theme song from Still 2Gether, that I had been practising over the summer recess.

When Clifton returned an hour later three words escaped his lips on seeing my handiwork.

“What the fuck!”

I gave a smile of satisfaction as he wandered slowly over to his side of the ‘The Wall’ I had created. I struck up again on my guitar and sang the chorus to ‘Get Off Of My Cloud’ by The Rolling Stones.

’I say, hey (hey), you (you)

Get off of my cloud

Hey (hey), you (you)

Get off of my cloud

Hey (hey), you (you)

Get off of my cloud

Don’t hang around ’cause two’s a crowd

On my cloud, baby’

Without uttering another word Clifton shuffled off to his side of the room with a disappointed look on his face. It looked like he had got the message that I was not wanting to strike up any friendship with him. Once Toad and his morons had the chance they would elaborate on their remarks, casting further aspersions as to my sexuality and smearing my reputation further, he wouldn’t want to be friends with me anyway.

I thought it far better to get it all done and over with now.

Without even looking at him and with guitar in hand, I stomped off out of the room, slamming the door behind me, and headed for my secret refuge.

Mossford Green’s Note ✍🏽

Music videos for the songs mentioned within chapters at either the start or added at the foot of each chapter can be found on my twin’s YouTube page @theydongreen9073 in his Who Cares Who Wins playlist.

Everything by Scrubb - with English Subtitles (©2005)

Because of copyright-protected content, viewers in some countries will not be able to watch this video.

Get Off Of My Cloud by The Rolling Stones (1965)

M xx ❤️❤️