PROLOGUE.
Aiden lay on his rather flat bed. It had always been rather flat. The mattress sagged down, and the pillows were small, hard and brick-like. Sleeping on it felt similar to sleeping on a stone cold rock table.
The duvet cover was grey: it had been blue once. If you looked hard enough, you could spot the faded caricatures from children’s TV shows on the bed sheets.
The bed wasn't really his. He didn't pay for it. It wasn't in his house.
The first thing Aiden got when they moved in was a new bed. His stepfather had found it in a skip. It was quite an impressive find.
There were no posters on his walls – just black marks, holes and bits of rotten blue tac, all of which been there before he moved in, ten years ago.
Aiden was five, yet he still remembered his first memory of the house. His stepfather was shouting, his mother crying. They didn't like this new house.
Maybe that was why his stepfather ran off to Poland with his new girlfriend six months later: he didn't like the house.
"Get the hell up, Aiden! For God sake, do I have to do bloody everything?"
The voice outside his room sounded hung-over: it wasn't as loud usual.
"And hurry up and make me some bloody breakfast."
Aiden didn't need convincing. He got up, all right. He got dressed. He did his hair. He brushed his teeth. He did his hair again. He made his mother's 'bloody breakfast' and he bloody spat in it. He didn't bother with goodbyes. He simply left the house, and headed for the bus stop, just in time to see the bus pass by.
Pulling his jacket over himself, Aiden rolled his eyes and strode into school. He was late by thirty-one minutes and 52 seconds.
This, arguably, could be Day 1. Because, why not? Is there a rule that it should've started when he was born? When something significant happened? The day The New Boy started?
OK, well maybe it will. But first, you have to see Aiden. Not The New Boy.
CZYTASZ
52. (BoyxBoy)
Dla nastolatkówAiden's life is a lonely mess of suffering and torment. He's bullied daily, and abused by his mother. He's fed up with it, and on the 52nd day of the year, he's going to give up. It's all planned. So why did that have to be the day The New Boy turne...
