The Dumpster

I walked out the door, right out of the playground and into the car park. It was only when I was at the gates that I started to slow down. I hadn’t felt this wound up in a very long time. I was different from last year; so what! I wished people would just get over it.

There was no chance of me going back into that hall. I didn’t give a shit what happened, it wasn’t worth the grief. I couldn’t open the gates because they had two big fat padlocks wrapped around them. The only escape route was out the driveway past the industrial estate.

I’d made it halfway when one of the skips I was passing began to spew up rubbish. I stood and stared. Maybe I really was cracking up. But it was like the bin had gorged itself with the entire contents of the tuckshop and was now upchucking the lot.

It was at this point that I heard the cries for help. I approached the skip and began to investigate.

I threw an Oi.

Help!

I walked closer.

It really stinks and I can’t get out!

I definitely was not in the mood to be a hero, I just wanted out. What idiot gets himself stuck in a Dumpster anyway? He deserves to stay in there.

Help!

But what could I do, leave the kid in there and wait for the garbage truck to completely masticate his body and give the poor garbage men a heart attack?

All right, mate. Take it easy. I’ll get you out.

Easier said than done. This took a little more strategic thought than dropping your daks at a bus. It wasn’t that the Dumpster was so big, it was more that it was curved and the little guy couldn’t get any leverage to haul himself out.

I scanned the area and found a bunch of milk crates surrounded by piles of cigarette butts. The not-so-secret teachers’ smoko area. Waddlehead should have a go at them just like he does at us about all the crap in the playground. I grabbed a couple of crates and chucked them into the Dumpster, hoping it wouldn’t cause the kid more injury.

See if you can put them on top of each other and then just hurl yourself up onto them.

I could hear his efforts and gathered that this kid had not had his ugly but useful growth spurt and was not used to hoisting himself out of anywhere. Just as I was thinking I was going to have to climb in there and give him a leg-up, which I really didn’t want to do, I saw two hands grip the edge of the bin and then two eyes peer out over the top. I knew those eyes. They belonged to the freak I met earlier. It all began to make sense. Of course he would be the one that even the geeks would pick on. Every group has its pecking order. This kid had Pick on Me tattooed all over him.

By now he’d managed to throw his right leg over the edge and was holding on tight, not really sure how to proceed. You could tell the kid was scared brainless of falling out but just as scared of falling back in.

It’s all right, mate. Just throw your other leg over and you’ll drop to the ground. It really isn’t that far.

The two eyes attempted to make contact again. This time they didn’t seem so ancient, just plain frightened.

I’ll come and stand underneath you and try to break your fall.

I think I heard a tiny whisper. Thanks.

I maneuvered myself underneath where I thought he would fall and braced myself as I would for a tackle. Within a second the kid dropped. We both fell to the ground. It wasn’t a pretty sight, but neither of us had broken any bones.

He quickly got up and beamed at me.

I knew you and I were going to be friends.

Yeah, yeah. Let’s not make a big a deal of it. I just happened to be passing by, that’s all.

My dad reckons that things always happen for reasons, the kid replied, attempting to match my stride and having to skip a little as a result. Synchronicity. Have you heard of it?

Of course I’ve heard of it. I’m not in Advanced English for nothing, you know.

I didn’t know what he was on about but I wasn’t about to admit that to a Year 7 geek who had just escaped from a Dumpster.

Man, you stink real bad.

He ducked his head like I’d hit him square in the gut. But it also got his mouth moving again.

All the kids reckon I stink, that’s why they put me in the bin in the first place, because they reckon that’s where my home is. They reckon I get all my clothes from a bin too.

He took a breath.

No, mate, that’s not what I meant. I mean you stink from being in the bin.

He lifted his head up.

Come on, I don’t know you well enough to hang crap on you.

That doesn’t stop the other boys.

Yeah, well, I’m more mature than those little dropkicks. If only Andrews could hear me now. Listen, mate, you can’t go back to rehearsals smelling like that. If you do, your life at St. Andrew’s will be over. You’d better go home and change, or at least give someone a ring to come and pick you up.

He was shaking his head as soon as the words were out of my mouth. He seemed more uptight about this than actually being thrown in the skip.

No, I live ages away and I can’t ring Dad ’cause he’s gone out for the day. Can’t I come with you?

No way, I’m out of here!

His eyes nearly popped out of his head.

But haven’t you got to stay after lunch too? Brother Pat will be expecting you.

I’d forgotten about the Brother Pat factor. He’d be pretty let down if I bailed, especially after all that role-model stuff he’d gone on with this morning. The last thing I wanted was to encourage the kid, but I couldn’t let him go back inside like that. The teachers would get involved and make a real thing of it. This would only ensure his life would be hell for the next couple of months.

Listen, my mate Chris has got three little brothers, he’ll have some clothes you can borrow.

Chris who?

Chris Holden.

He cut me off before I could say anything else.

I know him! He’s the guy who always speaks at assemblies and stuff. You’re mates with Chris Holden! Cool! OK, let’s go. This is so cool.

All right, settle down. It’s no big deal.

But apparently to the little guy jumping around beside me it was.

Getting chucked in that bin was the best thing that has happened to me since I came to St. Andrew’s!

This kid’s life was definitely sad.