Page 4 of Yearning Difficulties

When he caught sight of me watching, it made him even angrier.

I felt a stab of guilt. I held his gaze, showed him that I wasn’t laughing along with the others. Something softened in him for a moment – but he quickly shuttered it, turning back to Killian with his mask firmly in place.

‘Think you’re funny?’ he asked coldly. He looked at Killian with disgust. ‘Freak.’

I let out a gasp.

‘You.’ Dave shoved one of the rugby lads on the arm. ‘What is he?’

The rugby player followed Dave’s direction, glancing at Killian. ‘Uh, a freak.’

It wasn’t the most emphatic of echoes, but it satisfied Dave.

‘Ashley?’ Dave added, referring to one of the ‘popular’ students. ‘What is he?’

Ashley looked a lot more gleeful in her reply. ‘A freak. For sure.’

Dave smiled. He and Killian both knew this could go on for ever. He could prod just about any one of his friends within the school, and they’d parrot back the word.

Killian seemed to be on the back foot. The one openly autistic kid in the whole school, outnumbered by the rest.

‘Like I said,’ Dave spoke again. ‘Nothing but a sad, pathetic . . . freak.’

There were murmurings of disapproval, but to my astonishment, a wide smile broke across Killian’s face. I couldn’t understand it. He somehow grew taller, stepping closer to Dave, whose gaze flickered in confusion.

‘You’ve done it now,’ Chris said softly, and their friend Anderson made a noise of agreement.

‘Freak?’ Killian repeated. ‘Is that all you can do? Is that what you’re bringing to this?’

He stole a glance to the audience that had gathered and his gaze passed over me for another brief moment. I held his eyes, wondering what he would do. Something unreadable moved over his face and then he glanced away.

‘I’m actually asking you,’ Killian continued, returning his attention to Dave, ‘before we start this and before, let’s face it, I finish it – are you sticking with “freak”, Dave?’

‘Yeah,’ Dave said, giving Killian a slow and deliberate look of disdain. ‘I am.’

Killian smiled once more, as his friends made appreciative noises of anticipation. ‘Well, okay then.’

He leapt up onto one of the lunch tables, grinning as the rest of the students hooted and hollered.

‘Freak!’ Killian announced loudly. ‘A word hurled at me and people like me so often it has now lost all meaning. Noun. Insult, meant to wound. But . . . highly unoriginal. Positively antique! But in a worthless, schlocky sense. Indicative of an intellect that hasn’t yet outgrown the playground, and an imagination that has had a guillotine brought down on its weak and fragile neck.’

Dave glowered as the room started to pulsate – students shifting and readying themselves for a scene. Even the catering staff were watching, clearly intrigued by the duel that was about to take place.

‘You could have said,’ Killian said with vigour from his higher ground on top of the table, ‘he’s so weird the stamp collectors get an inferiority complex around him.’

Unsure laughter started to ripple across the room, growing in confidence when Dave backed away from his opponent. He looked around at the rest of his fellow students, appearing off balance.

Killian went on.

‘You could have said, he’s so weird his imaginary friend sought a restraining order!’

The laughter was loud now. A few people heckled in delight, urging Killian to keep going.

‘How weird is he?’ yelled Anderson, playing along and setting Killian up for his next parry.

‘Okay, okay.’ Killian held up his hands, ushering in some quiet. ‘You could have said, he’s so weird he makes Tarrare look like an accountant.’

I smiled at that. I’d done a presentation on Tarrare in a class last term. I didn’t think anyone had listened, least of all Killian Bergery.