The dark side
There was a completely different story going round my head when I sat in homeroom on Friday morning.
Right, just a warning, boys, there’s a memo that says period three will be taken for singing practice.
The news was received in one of two ways: half the boys cheered and instantly swarmed their diaries to see what period they were going to miss; the other half groaned. It was hard to hear which side had the majority. It was around about then I began to have another meltdown.
Settle down, mate, it’s not that bad. At least you get to miss out on maths.
No, Chris, you don’t get it. Brother Patrick’s conned me into being a part of the school band. You know, being up onstage in front of the whole school, looking like a prize idiot.
Chris stared at me as if he’d been waiting for this moment all his life. Which is exactly why I hadn’t told him. He was now about to get his revenge.
Me and the boys had given him constant crap about being the school brownnose ever since he had been made the class representative in kindergarten. Not that it had ever stopped him: he just gave us the finger and kept accepting the badges. But now, after twelve long years, he had the perfect revenge and he didn’t have to raise any fingers to make it happen.
You mean you have to get up there in front of the whole school and actually play when Brother Pat’s doing his wailing banshee stuff on the mike?
Yep.
He didn’t even wait one second.
Hey, Jock!
Shut up, Chris! Come on …
But Chris was going to bleed this for everything he could get.
Did you hear that Willo’s going to be up onstage this morning?
No way, man! It can’t be true! The man who dacked himself at the girls’ bus, one of the finest moments in St. Andrew’s history? You’re part of the Brother Patrick Show by personal invite? Will, you’ve crossed to the dark side.
Others, overhearing Jock’s accusing roar, came flooding over to throw in their gold coins’ worth. After five minutes of being slammed, I’d had enough.
Yeah, yeah, you’re all a bunch of bloody comedians!
Just at that moment, I mean at that exact moment, Brother Pat’s voice boomed over the PA, entering every room in the school.
Could William Armstrong of Year Eleven please meet Brother Patrick in the hall immediately.
Naturally, this was too much. The whole class fell over one another, some in pain they were laughing so hard.
Whatever fragments of my armor were left clanked to the ground with each step. By the time I reached the hall I was unarmed and defenseless. Last night’s bravado had evaporated along with any semblance of credibility.