One of the Bullied | ✔

Chapter 11 - Man On A Mission

Getting out of school before the end of the day is... well, a very weird feeling. Of course, most people have bunked off school a load of times, and I haven't gone to school plenty of times too, but I've never done... Quite this.

The streets are empty, since everyone is still either at work or at school, and people haven't even come out for lunch breaks yet. Jean is watching me almost expectantly.

"Where are you staying?" I ask him. He then takes the lead, determined not to tell me the address even when we get lost and he has to check it on his phone. It's pretty funny actually. I just stand there, sniggering softly, and he suddenly turns, looking like he wants to laugh but also slightly indignant, and then I burst out laughing really loudly, which seems to trigger him too.

So we just laugh in the middle of the street for a while, and it's the best feeling I've had in a long time. Finally, I lean against a lamppost, my ribs still aching. "So, what's the address?" I ask him. He tells me.

He's staying in the apartments a couple of str opposite my house.

"I live there." I point up straight towards my house. It stands out from the others on the street, because it's newer, and detached, and taller. My father, stressed though he is, makes incredible money in his job. We were going to move back to London, but my parents finally decided I should stay here so they could save up the money they would need to pay for my fees to study Law at Cambridge. The best law school in the UK.

Well, that's hoping I get in. I applied for Oxford, Cambridge and the University of London. My parents are confident I'm going to Cambridge, me... Well, all I can do is hope now.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Jean asks again. I snap out of my trance.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I say. "Just thinking." I turn to him properly, turning my back on my house. "So, tell me a bit more about yourself."

"Well, I've lived in Bordeaux all my life." He says, and his eyes seem to glaze over a bit. "When I was twelve, ready to go into what we call Secondary School, I contracted leukemia." He explains. My eyes widen. "I basically missed four years of school. I'd go in and out constantly, and the least of my worries at the point was English." He smiles bitterly. "So that's how I got to seventeen without being able to say more than hello."

"Oh-" The diplomatic, intelligent part of my brain starts running around crazily trying to think of something to say to someone like this. It eventually drops, tired. "God, I'm so sorry." I say finally. At least it's not the most insensitive thing I could have said.

He drops onto a bench a few steps to our right. "See, that's just everyone's reaction. The moment you tell anyone, they'll just fuss around you, and go "oh - poor boy, don't let him do anything for himself and make sure he isn't able to live a life by himself".

I decided to come here, to throw myself into the unknown. I searched so much until I found a school with the least French students possible. I didn't want it so easy. I wanted a challenge, I wanted to felt like I could do something for the first time in my life."

"I didn't mean it like that." I say weakly. "And it's great that you came. It's great that you decided to do this for yourself. And I won't get in your way if you don't want me to." As I say this, my soul crumples to the floor again. I had one chance. If the bullies don't ruin it for me, I end up ruining it for myself.

"No." He sighs. "Obviously, I do need your help. And it's much appreciated." He sighs again and I pick up the courage to sit down next to him. "I've never been able to enjoy the life I wanted to. I missed the best years of my life. I've never had the friends I wanted, because when I was sick everyone treated me with disgust, and when I got better everyone just felt sorry for me. It's been a lifetime of everyone feeling sorry for me. It gets so tedious."