Human Remains

then from the initial shock of bereavement, I had settled into a phase that could best be described as sullen. I had no wish to meet anyone, talk to anyone or engage in activity of any kind, educational or social, so in that environment, of course, I fitted in very well.
    On my third day, two boys from another class cornered me in the cloakrooms.
    ‘You’re new,’ one of them said. He was a pale kid, with one of those stupid haircuts they had back then, shaved at the sides, mouse-coloured and spiky on top, a ridiculous rat’s tail plaited down his back. Next to him his companion was less muscular than corpulent, but still at least a foot taller than I was – it would be another two years until the growth spurt that took me up to six foot and a bit beyond.
    ‘Yes,’ I said, already wary of speaking too much and giving away an accent that didn’t match theirs.
    ‘Where you come from,’ the other one offered. Was it supposed to be a question? It hadn’t sounded like one and therefore I didn’t feel the need to answer.
    I went to leave but they were blocking my way. The smaller of the two said, ‘You a bit weird, or summink? Bit funny in the ’ead?’ The fat one snorted and moved closer, close enough to grant me the scent of his armpits.
    I don’t even suppose they were being particularly threatening; I certainly wasn’t afraid of them. But they were in my way and I had no desire to hang around in this stinking, graffitied hole any longer.
    I think the primary advantage I have over people is surprise. I move quickly, I don’t hesitate, and I don’t give anything away.
    I kicked the fat one in the groin and he doubled over and fell to the floor, shrieking with a noise that sounded far too girlish and shrill for one so large. The smaller one looked at me, his eyes widening. He was about the same size as I was, and my guess was that he’d never been challenged, never had to get physical with anyone without the assistance of his chum.
    He took a step backwards and went to let me pass. I thought about it, really I did, but the fat shit was still rolling around on the floor crying, and for the first time in months I felt something stirring inside me, something unfamiliar. It felt good. I was having fun.
    And it was all too, too easy. I grabbed him by the shoulder, turned him around and slammed him into the wall. He was saying ‘no, I’m sorry, we didn’t mean it, you’re alright, really, let me go’ in a jumble, his voice rising to the same pre-pubescent wail as that of his friend, as though shock and fear had emasculated them both.
    It was all just too tempting. Holding him against the wall with the weight of my body and with a fist pushing into the space between his shoulderblades, I wound the stupid rat’s tail around my hand twice and with surprisingly little effort – though maybe the intent behind it fuelled my strength – ripped it off. So then there were two of them squirming in pain, and the smaller one took up the shrieking where the other one had now stilled to a shuddering whimper. For a moment I looked at them, thinking what a lot of noise was coming out of them and whether what had happened had entirely justified it, then I looked at the rat’s tail in my hand. A small patch of bright white skin had come away with it. The other end still secured neatly with an elastic band.
    The smaller one was clutching the back of his head with both his hands as though he was under arrest for something, eyeballing me with an expression I couldn’t define, his eyebrows furrowed, tears pouring from his eyes, cheeks bright red. He was glaring at me, and I was looking casually back. Blood was seeping through his interlaced fingers, their knuckles white with effort.
    I shook the stupid rat’s tail from my hand and it fell to the floor. ‘Goodnight, ladies,’ I said, leaving them to their sobs.
    I was suspended for a week, but not expelled. The two boys were notorious bullies, although of course I’d had no idea about that. When I was sent to see the head teacher (not a master, here, although male – he was a middle-aged homosexual who encouraged liberal attitudes towards teaching and hoped by doing so to have a supportive following amongst the staff) – he all but thanked me. He certainly wasn’t angry.
    ‘It’s not the way we do things,’ he said, ‘causing injury to your fellow students; it’s not the right thing to do, is it? Not the right choice to make?’
    ‘I suppose not,’ I