Chapter 1: Parting thoughts
Amelia sat at her laptop in her bedroom. Through the skylight she could peer up and see the beautiful night sky. She loved doing this, it helped her think. She was responding to comments on her blog. She had set it up over a year ago, prompted by the desire to help others. It was her show of defiance against internet bullying. Her way of telling the world that she wouldn’t stand for it.
Today a young man in Australia had commented how he was being picked on for having train tracks on his teeth. She smiled as she thought of a response to his comment, wanting to commend him for his bravery and give him the confidence to rise above those who sought to bring him down.
He reminded her of George. George Dalton lived down the road in the house next to the zebra crossing. George was two years older than Amelia. He had worn braces for a while. In fact, two pairs. One set in his teeth and the other to hold up his trousers. While a dentist had prescribed the first, the blame for the second set lay solely with his mother. It was the fashion equivalent of sticking a sign above his head saying: ‘Please pick on me’.
So they did. The older kids in school did anyway. Amelia had witnessed them in the past rolling poor George down the street in a litter bin. On other occasions, he was tied to a lamp post or forced to hop home with his shoelaces strung together and his hands tied behind his back using his school tie.
The bullying of George stopped however after he developed a bit of a growth spurt shortly after his fifteenth birthday. Not only did he rapidly grow upwards but also outwards. Muscles replaced creases in his school shirt and his trousers no longer hung off his waist. By the time he was sixteen he had evolved from a lanky geek requiring braces, into a strapping young hunk of a man. Best of all about him, from Amelia’s point of view anyway, was that he hadn’t changed one jot on the inside. He was lush of course but also polite with a kind heart. This was demonstrated by his faithfulness to his best friend Burton Coggles.
Burton was the same age as George but the growing years hadn’t been so kind. His face had suffered with acne since the age of thirteen and by the time he was sixteen, what wasn’t red or oozing with larva were now craters left by the volcanic eruptions. He was also quite tubby and not at all fit. His hair was as greasy as his skin and never looked like it had seen a comb. If it wasn’t for George, Burton would have had no friends at all.
She only saw Burton whenever he accompanied George home from school. On average that was four thirty seven p.m. according to the excel spreadsheet on which she had recorded the times. It was occasionally as early as four twenty and at the latest four fifty one. On Wednesday night however it seemed to always be around five past seven, as that was when sailing club ended.
George was an excellent sailor. At least Amelia thought he was. There wasn’t a ship in the entire universe which he wouldn’t be able to pilot one day. She had watched him sail frequently. It was not that she had been following him. More that she just happened to be cycling past the lakes when she knew he'd be there.
She was still thinking of George as she hunted for the remote control to the TV. She hadn’t really been watching it, but it had been on in the background all evening. She decided to turn it off now and go to sleep. She had said goodnight to everyone downstairs and kissed little Freddy. He was staying over while her sister, his mother, went out with friends. For a two year old Freddy was quite smart. He was of course a little mischievous but who could possibly blame him for that.
The weatherman was on the telly. He was wearing a purple jumper and the map behind showed that it was going to be sunny tomorrow and quite warm for October. It made Amelia think she could take Freddy for a walk in the morning since it was the weekend. She could push him on his little trike to the lakes. There was a sailing regatta taking place. George might be there. Well actually she knew he would be. She had already checked online and there was his boat: ‘By George’, listed among the entrants.
She tidied her desk and found a letter from school to give to her parents. It was from her PE Teacher, Miss Flintlock. It was handed to her personally at the end of school. It was in a white envelope and on the front was written ‘Amelia Gunter: To your Parent, Guardian or other.’
She contemplated the choices. As far as she was aware, she didn’t have a guardian. She had parents not parent. To decide who to give the letter to amounted to favouritism and she loved both equally. That left ‘other’ and so after a moment’s consideration she decided to hand it to the bin, screwing it up first then tossing it in. She knew the contents of it anyway; other kids in her class had received them too. Amelia had forgotten her kit again for PE. That made three weeks in a row. It had been overlooked the first two times, mostly thanks to some brilliantly innovative excuses she had borrowed from the internet.
‘The water pipe’s broken so our washing machine isn’t working.’
That seemed to have worked well during week one.
‘My nephew threw up over my clothes.’
This had been successful last week and coincidentally was true. Poor Freddy, eating raw onions again.
Today’s excuse however had not fared so well.
‘The clasp has broke on my school bag and my kit must have fallen out on the bus.’
This in hindsight had been an excuse too far. For one, she never took the bus to school, and two there wasn’t a bus route near to where she lived. She usually walked, everyone knew that. Overall it had been a lazy excuse and one which justified the letter to her parents – not that they would ever see it.
Amelia hated PE, she couldn’t see the point. Her best friend Alysson had thought the same. If Amelia was in charge of schools, PE would be banned, especially for girls. Making them do stuff they didn’t want to do in the name of sport, was just peak in her view. Adults loved spouting some junk that somehow it was healthy. Amelia had seen the so called sporty kids pop out for a quick smoke after playing netball. Really?
She recalled watching a programme the other evening in which the newly elected American President, a woman, had said in an interview that she hated PE at school. If the most powerful person on the planet thought so then surely that justified what Amelia was saying now. PE sucked. End of.
She climbed into bed feeling tired. She felt herself drifting as soon as her head hit the pillow. A deep sleep was coming, she liked those. She sometimes wished she could sleep for a hundred years.
