Chapter 20

Friday

Alban

It wasn't as cold as I expected it to be. I was focussing on the temperature, concentrating on the sensations, but it didn't work. One whisper in a hall that size sounds loud; five or six hundred of them, therefore, is even louder.

And you just know they won't understand. 'He didn't want us to see the scars', they'll think, 'He must think he's hideous'. They don't really matter, in and of themselves, but people will want to know where they came from, what happened. That's important, and that'll be the end of it.

"A little quicker, if you would, Mr Darch." Dr Hibbert's voice brought me back from my reverie as I folded my shirt slowly into the box beneath his lectern.

"This is demeaning." I pointed out, reaching for my belt.

"You didn't have to do it this way, Alban."

"Like doing at the gate is any better."

"Why is it demeaning? What do you have to be ashamed of?"

"Does it matter? Isn't it enough that I do?"

"That, I'm afraid, is something you'll have to take up with Dr Adams."

"Of course it is..."

"You can carry on, though, in the meantime." He pointed towards the belt in my hands, and there didn't seem to be much more to say. The mutterings and whisperings continued, a few giggles here and there from the younger parts of the school.

"SHAKE IT, BABY!" Issy yelled from somewhere near the back. You can always count on Issy to break the tension, and in the wake of that they all started to clap. Which made it worse, really.

Everyone's had that sensation of eyes on them, walking somewhere and you suddenly feel that you're being watched. I have that all the time, and I know it's paranoia, but you can guarantee that when I slip someone's going to be there to see it, and then it's all going to come out. I don't want the attention, I don't want to be noticed or pointed out or lauded. I just want to get on with it all, and leave at the end of the day without having done too much else wrong.

I could feel each hot eyeball pressed against my back as I put my trousers into the box as well, and then my boxers, showing the world that the scars trailed down onto the tops of my thighs but no further.

"Thank you, Alban, that will be all." I'm not even sure there was the hint of sympathy in Dr Hibbert's voice, this time. I slipped my shoes back on and dropped back off the front of the stage. That was a strange experience. It wasn't painful, exactly, but it was uncomfortable, slapping yourself in the stomach during that brief half-second of free-fall. You don't realise how much constraint and support the most modest of clothing can give — well, perhaps the ladies can, but guys tend not to.

I remember seeing something in biology once about how arborial apes and monkeys lost the flap of skin that holds the penis against the body to stop it getting caught on stray branches and twigs as they swung through the trees, and all I can wonder is how exactly they managed without — waving about like that it has to catch on more things, surely?

Which wasn't going through my mind right then, of course, I was just trying to get to the back. When they let us out I wanted a clear run. The rules say you have to stay in public places, but it doesn't say you have to be there whilst everyone else is. Dr Hibbert carried on as I walked up the aisle.

"I want to reiterate so there are no misunderstandings. Bullying, of any sort, is not something we are prepared to tolerate at this school, and we consider singling individuals out for unwarranted or undesired attention to be another form of bullying. Naturally there will be a degree of curiosity about the Programme, and we encourage you all to talk about this — at the proper times — but to be respectful of the wishes of the individuals involved. This is a difficult time for the people involved, and there will be no tolerance of any breach of etiquette in these matters.

Now, please, return to your classes." I was out the door and accelerating before half the chairs had swung up into their folded positions — and that caused problems of its own. For sport, of course, you're allowed to wear a support — horrible things at the best of times, but worse when all it does is frames your arse for the world to see like a target — but running down the corridors to beat the crowds you don't have that, and you need it.

I was four paces into the run before the first twinge started, and by the sixth I'd stopped — you just can't run properly with your legs that far apart.

"ALBAN!" Marissa called over the crowd. I felt... I don't know. I'd sort of imposed myself on her week at first, then stood up and kept everyone off her back when she didn't want the attention. Now it felt like I was abandoning her. I could try and justify it, and say that my being there was just going to bring more attention, but it wasn't the sort of attention that she was avoiding, and I was too honest for that... just. It was tempting.

So I just pressed myself up against the wall — which was way too cold — and waited for her to catch up. The rest were not far behind.

"Are you OK?" she asked, when they got near. I don't know how I looked, but they all stayed a pace back.

"Yeah, I guess..." I managed. They were going to ask, someone was bound to ask.

"Was that the fire?" Kirsten stepped up to the challenge. I just nodded.

"Did you want to talk about it?" Pete cut in before the others could continue.

"No."

"Fine, let's get to gym, then." And he started to walk away. It didn't take much to see the firm grip he had on Issy's sleeve, pulling her behind him. Kirsten shrugged and followed, and Marissa stepped a little closer with a gentle smile.

"Are you sure you're OK?"

"I'll live." I assured her, and she tried to slip her arm into mine.

"Come here!" she almost laughed, pulling me back into it with a smile.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"It's more of an even playing field." She admitted, with a nod. "But this whole naked thing isn't the point... like I said, we're forgetting it all for today, and pretending we're just like everyone else."

"We agreed to this, did we?"

"Well, see, I've seen you argue before, and you really didn't seem to put up much of a fight. It was almost like this was what you wanted..." She trailed off, and for a moment there was a challenge in her stare. And then there was doubt, and that hurt more than I think it should have.

"I can live with that too, I guess..." I managed, quietly. The smile came back, and I wish I felt better about it.

"Hey, Darch, I can see why you were hiding it." McBride's voice silenced the crowd in an instant. "I didn't realise you were doing us a favour."

"Aren't you supposed to be doing the same favour?" Issy snapped back. "You and your excuse for a face are suspended."

"Yeah," he smiled, smugly, "but there's no-one at home during the day, so they have to let me serve my suspension at school."

"How does that work?" Evan asked.

"That's not the important question," Pete threw in, "I'm wondering why he's only gotten vocal about the Programme since Alban stripped off? Are you sure you're not one of us?"

Marissa

Oh my God! He's incredible. I knew he was big, he's tall and he looks lean and muscular, but when he stripped off! I've never seen muscle like that in real life. He's got almost no hair on his body, and his skin's really pale where he probably never lets the sun near it, but it's tight across every little contour, and you can see all the little bumps and swells gliding over each other when he moves. Those few minutes as he slowly undressed on the stage were like magic, like when my dad used to unwrap presents at Christmas. He'd peel all the tape off, slowly, keeping the paper, drawing each present out for minutes. It didn't matter what they were, in the end — socks, handkerchiefs, whatever — it was wonderful because the excitement had been building.

Alban's strip was like that, except that the present, when it came, was incredible. He didn't just move, like most people do, he seemed to glide. He's always smooth in his movements, but without the clothes you could see how all the little movements came together, like all the little bits of an orchestra coming together. Even as he ran away he looked good.

I called to him as he past me at the back of the hall, but I don't think he noticed, he was focussed on something else, and then when the assembly broke up he was gone like a shot. I followed, pushing through the crowd a little, and caught from the corner of my eye something out of place. The crowd was moving, but it was moving around something — someone. McBride, and his gaze was fixed on Alban.

"ALBAN!" I called, wanting to let him know, but as soon as I shouted McBride turned away somewhere else. Alban had stopped, though, so I eased along with the crowd — I only had to slap one hand away — until I drew level with him. He looked distant, again.

"Are you OK?" His gaze flitted around behind me, first, and I took a quick look to see that the others had followed.

"I guess." He finally managed, trying to force a tight smile.

"Was that the fire?" Kirsten asked from over my shoulder, and all the tendons in his wrists and elbows stood up as he tensed. He must have nodded, he didn't say anything, but Pete was quickly changing the subject and heading off.

He sighed, and from the look on his face he was expecting more of them today.

"Are you sure you're OK?"

"I'll live." That same, tight smile that failed to lighten his eyes at all. I reached out to him, but he flinched away, so I grabbed for him a little, smiling to lighten the mood.

"Come here."

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" NO! I wanted to shout at him, but he had enough burdens already. I hated every second of it, standing out with everything on show for whomever wanted to see, stretch-marks and all. Worse than that, though, I didn't like what had happened to him. He seemed... smaller, somehow. Like he was hunching over, or trying to shrink into himself.

"It's more of an even playing field." I finally said, when I realised he was waiting for something. Then I tried to take his mind off it. It wasn't likely to work, it hadn't worked with me, but it was worth a try. "But this whole naked thing isn't the point... like I said, we're forgetting it all for today, and pretending we're just like everyone else."

"We agreed to this, did we?" He actually managed a wry smile at that, maybe it was working better than I thought. Just keep him talking...

"Well, see, I've seen you argue before, and you really didn't seem to put up much of a fight." I pointed out, just spouting off however it took me. "It was almost like this was what you wanted..." Which of course, it wasn't. In any way.

"I can live with that too, I guess..." A better reaction than I had cause to hope for, and then his arm went rock hard and tense again as a voice cut me off.

"Hey, Darch, I can see why you were hiding it." Andrew stepped away from the wall with an arrogant swagger. "I didn't realise you were doing us a favour."

"Aren't you supposed to be doing the same favour?" Issy and Pete had, apparently, turned back when they saw what was going on. "You and your excuse for a face are suspended."

"Yeah, but there's no-one at home during the day, so they have to let me serve my suspension at school." Figures, really. Some people just always seem to land on their feet, and it's usually those that deserve it the least. Or maybe it's just that we notice it more then.

"How does that work?" Evan asked.

"That's not the important question," Pete threw in, "I'm wondering why he's only gotten vocal about the Programme since Alban stripped off? Are you sure you're not one of us?"

I didn't even see him move, it was that quick. Pete cracked his joke, and Andrew flew at him. He's a bulky guy, and he's used to playing sport, so he knows what he's doing, but he didn't stand a chance. Alban slipped out my grasp like greased lightning, one of those long rangy arms clamping around Andrew's wrist as he drew back to punch Pete, and then suddenly he was on his back, Alban's show in his throat and the arm bent back painfully.

"What's going on here?" Miss Vietch's voice came down the hall, following the crowd, and Alban stared for a moment before taking his foot away. "Mr Darch?"