Bob

The bullshit doesn't seem so bad when you're a dreamer; nothing could ruin my day, or even my week. I'd saved a breast.... a woman, from humiliation, and it even had a name - Alice. But I was brought out of my day dream as soon as I waked into class the following morning.

'Hey Bob' Simon greeted me as I entered.

'Hey Bob' said Matthew, one of Simon's friends.

As I walked towards my seat at the front of the class my passing was acknowledged with another half-dozen 'Bob' or 'Hey Bobs'. The way they said it was casual, warm, friendly even, as if I was part of the inner circle, as if our shared fun at the pool had meant something. But my name wasn't Bob. There is no 'Bob' anywhere in my first, middle or last names. I wasn't sure what course of action to take; to laugh, to scowl, to threaten or swear. My mood was so good I could ignore it for now.

It continued on into my next classes, even the two guys Brent and Evan joined in - and to think that I'd once thought them potential friends, just because they were alone. In fact the two beggars had become good friends as they were always seated together and hung out at break. By mocking me, they were diverting any hostility from themselves and reinforcing the belief that I was a target. I didn't want to ask anyone what 'Bob' actually meant, but it wouldn't be good, and by lunch time the casual taunting had not let up. I had to act.

Who would have thought that lunch break could be so challenging. Whether sitting in the quadrangle, field, or any place in school bounds, there’s nothing worse than sitting alone. You can't sit on your own, no matter how bad the alternative. You feel every eye on you, asking why is this person alone? What sort of freak is he? And just look at those club sandwiches, made with the loving care only a mother can; lettuce on one layer, tomato on the other, chive sprinkled throughout, and only the best whole meal bread. They'll be calling me mummy's boy next. I hid my lunchbox in my bag while taking furtive bites. This couldn't go on, so I decided to attach myself to a group, whether they liked it or not.

 'How's it going Bob?'

'Whatssup Bob?'

'You wanna hang with us Bob?'

You may wonder why I chose to 'hang' with Simon and his friends. Well, apart from Simon's constant abuse, they at least talked to me, and unlike Brent and Evan who had blatantly asked me to leave, these guys hadn't. Perhaps if I were willing to put up with the abuse, maybe I wouldn't have to eat alone.

The rest of Simon's group comprised Matthew, Craig, Carl and Hippie. None of them were physically intimidating, although Simon was fast and could run away while I cooled off, Matthew chubby and could probably put some weight behind his punch, Carl had long hair and looked like a surfer, Craig was tiny and no possible threat, while Hippie had a smart remark for everything.

When they realised I wasn't just passing by, but hanging with them, Simon fired up. 'You can't stand there Bob' Simon and the rest of the guys took several steps away and I took several steps toward them. 'I can stand where I like.' Simon took several more steps away, and the rest of them hesitated, as if wondering why bother, before following.

'Fuck off Bob. We don’t want to catch your faggotness' said Simon. His words had now made it impossible to leave. To leave means he’s got to me, that he can push me round with words. I couldn't let myself suffer such abuse and not react. To think that I had considered putting up with this, for the sake of being part of a group was not only madness, my pride would not allow it.

 'Fucking make me move you little ass wipe. Or are you too chicken shit?' I was conscious of choosing to swear. It hadn't become completely natural yet, but I was adapting quickly. I was also hoping that he wouldn't take me up on my offer, and praying he would run like he did on the first day we met.

'Go on Simon, make him move... or are you chicken' said Matthew. I advanced on Simon, and he ran. The others laughed and let me sit with them.

It was not friendship, more like an uneasy truce as none of the guys were willing to call my bluff.

'You don't know what Bob means, do you?' asked Hippie, the clever one. I tried to bullshit an answer, with no success.

'Bundles of buddies' Hippie explained. Bundles - meaning lots of, and buddies - friends. It was a sarcastic jibe at my lack of friends. I also learned that I was also a Tomas - Tons of mates at school - another sarcastic reference to my lack of friends.

‘You could fit all your friends on the back of a skateboard’ Carl, the surfer looking dude, chimed in. I can handle this sort of mocking. Their comments were missing that element of viciousness that Simon's had.

‘What’s Simon’s problem?’ Simon didn’t make sense. If I just knew why he was the way he was, then perhaps a permanent truce could be agreed. ‘Why’s he such an asshole?’

‘He’s always been that way, ever since primary school’ Matthew said. He added that he knew Simon the longest, as they’d grown up as neighbors.

‘So what’re saying? He wasn’t an asshole before primary school?’

Matthew shrugged his shoulders, ‘He’s harmless, just ignore him.’ Simon must have figured I’d cooled down enough and chose that moment to return.

‘What’d ya say about me?’ Simon must have overheard me fishing for details, because he directed his anger at Matthew.

‘Nothing mate, nothing’ Matthew stammered. ‘I just said we’ve been friends a long time.’ Satisfied, Simon directed his attention back to me.

'No need to be psycho' Simon said, lingering at the back of the group.

'Psycho's much better than Bob' agreed Hippie.

From that moment on my new nickname, and the one that would last for the rest of the year, was psycho. If I was to be a semi-detached part of this group, this is how it would be. Screw Carl, Craig, Hippie and Matthew, but most of all fuck Simon. I couldn’t do it. I’d have to eat alone for a bit longer.

Next Chapter: Mr Rodgers