Counselling Jack: submission 2
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*A quick note about registration which I have received a few emails about. Essentially registration classes are 15 minute classes at the start of the day where students go in order to check attendance and to ensure they are given relevant notices and information regarding the school day. Any more questions about terminology used, don't hesitate to ask and I'll clear it up for you and also include the explanations in the next chapter for the benefit of others. Thanks.
The weekend finally arrived and I spent my Friday night watching Breaking Bad on Netflix. One episode carried on from the next and after about three hours I decided I'd better stop so went on my phone to check Facebook and Instagram. I never really received a lot of messages, mainly because I hate texting and talking to people online, and partly because I only had a few people that I'd actually want to talk to, and I certainly wasn't in the habit of talking to girls.
To keep up the appearance of my heterosexuality, I liked a few girls' photos on Instagram and then put my phone down as my eyes began to sting from looking at a screen for so long. It was only about 7:00 so I couldn't exactly go to sleep, so I picked my book up again. I'd barely had a chance to remove my bookmark before my phone began to vibrate again, so I picked it up and answered the call; it was Ben.
The voice I was hearing was unusually quiet for Ben, and as the conversation developed I could understand why; Georgia had cheated on him with someone else in year 12 and he'd found out by his older sister in year 13. I told him that there was a tendency for rumours to be spread about in our school, and that it could turn out to be wrong. He dismissed this as he told me he'd asked her about it and she admitted it, much to the annoyance of the person she cheated with. Now, although I complain about Ben and how annoying it is when he talks about his girlfriend, I wasn't much happier having him upset about it. After all, I am still his friend. I talked to him for about ten more minutes and told him we'd go out or do something together, just me him and the other lads so he could get over Georgia. This would entail a significant amount of alcohol, I insisted, as this was always fun.
He then told me he was going to "smash Darren's face in." (Darren being the now-third party in his relationship,) but I told him to leave it, partly to spare getting himself into trouble, and partly because Ben had absolutely no capability to hurt anyone, let alone Darren, who is closer to my build than to Ben's. He subsequently asked if I would speak to Darren and find out more about what happened, as he didn't want to talk to Georgia but still wanted to know everything. I agreed even though I didn't have the slightest idea what to say.
I ended up sending a text to Darren; I had his number from a few years ago from when I actually used to talk to him, so I simply asked the relevant questions like how long has it been going on etc. It turned out Darren still had the view that I was violent and part of the group with a reputation for fighting, like my year 8 self, and subsequently acted like a bitch and said how sorry he was and that he'd apologise to Ben. I didn't bother to explain that I wasn't like I used to be, I found it quite funny, especially since he'd hurt Ben. I called Ben again and told him what happened and how Darren reacted. This put him in a better mood, so I hung up again and carried on with my book, until I decided it was time to go to bed.
Saturday morning I headed to the Athletics track a few miles away from my house, and set out a few cones roughly 20 metres apart. I did various sprints and rested in between, making sure to drink plenty of water since it was such a hot day. There were other groups of runners there, one group of old women who were using the track to power walk, a group of lads in their twenties with slicked back hair and ridiculous ponytails that I assumed were semi-professional footballers because they looked like pretentious idiots. The final group I actually recognised a few of them, about ten or so lads with three of them that were in the year 8 class that I took for PE on Friday. And of course, Jack was there. He was laughing with his friends as they waited for their coach to arrive, and he clearly wasn't as shy and quiet as Robert had mentioned to me. I couldn't see them very well though, they were on the other side of the track and I only noticed them as I took a break in between my sprints.
Once their coach arrived they lined up beside each other and then began to run at a fairly decent pace as he blew his whistle. They were heading towards me and a few of them raised their eyebrows in surprise as they noticed me on the inside of the track, with Jack seeming to stare for the longest before they whizzed past me. They only did one lap of the track, and judging by the size of the track I'd say they were running the 800m. I couldn't see who finished first but it was fairly close between Jack and two others that I didn't know. They rested for about ten minutes while doing stretches and cool downs, by which time I headed over next to them to the gate where I left. This time I received smiles from some of them, but Jack wasn't looking for some reason.
I went home, showered and changed into some shorts and a shirt, and headed off to a nearby field where I was meeting Ben, James and Conor to play football. We talked about Ben's situation, which Conor was interested in, and gave some decent advice, despite complaining about him the previous day. We did a few trick shots and tried some over-head kicks and outside-foot shots, before Conor attempted a Ribana and scored, shouting "RIBONER!!" Before we burst out laughing and told him the proper name. He passed it off as if he was joking; he wasn't.
We then went back to James' house where he'd pretty much asked his dad to get lost for the night as we all drank away Ben's troubles. I think he and James' mum went to visit friends for the weekend so we had the house to ourselves. It was a good laugh and Ben soon found himself in a better mood, especially after an adapted game of beer pong involving James' pool table, and the use of Jäger instead of beer... We slept there too, myself and Conor downstairs on the sofas, James in his bed and Ben sprawled across the pool table with a few dribbles of vomit down the front of his top. (Remember we're 16 and not all of us can handle alcohol too well...) Admittedly it was a funny sight to see.
Sunday morning certainly wasn't as joyous. Myself and Chris woke up with weird tasting mouths and a burning sensation in the pit of our stomachs. The sight of left over pizza from the night before was off putting but nevertheless, we ate a slice each, after all we had to eat. We headed to the garage where the pool table was and we laughed at the sight of Ben lying face down on its surface with a pool queue shoved down the back of his shorts. Conor pulled it out and executed a perfect chip shot over Ben's leg and into one of the pockets. We found this entertaining so carried on playing pool around Ben's sedentary body, before James came down to join us. Ben woke up once the number 4 ball accidentally struck his genitals and rolled off the table and into the bathroom to empty the content of his stomach.
We helped tidy up the best we could and all headed home to die in our own beds for a few hours before catching up on work that needed to be done over the weekend.
Sunday was especially long and it took a while for the sickly feeling of a hangover to fully disappear. My brother caught on to why I wasn't feeling good and laughed at me when he saw me come down at lunchtime to make myself a sandwich.
"Have a good night?" He shouted deliberately loud, a smug look on his face.
"You've got no idea." I groaned back, assuming he hadn't been drunk before.
I spent the rest of the day reluctantly completing various work due for the next day, only stopping to eat dinner with my family. My parents were aware of my condition too, and found it hilarious. I guess that's better than having strict parents who would have killed me for drinking alcohol at 16 years old. Seriously though, if there are any parents of children older than 14 reading, then I guarantee your child has drank before.
I went to bed early, which I felt was a good idea since I'd have a year 7 class to teach the following morning period 1.
I woke up later than usual after some much needed rest and had little time to sort myself out adequately. I usually find that whenever I don't have enough time to prepare on a morning, I tend to be in a shitty mood throughout the rest of the day. I quickly grabbed a banana to eat on the way to school which I knew wouldn't be enough to fill me until lunchtime. I headed to registration where Ben was waiting for me. We talked about the weekend and laughed about some of the things that happened. He said that when he got home his Dad made him vacuum the entire house as punishment for drinking, which clearly didn't help his headache.
I asked to leave 5 minutes early so that I could get changed before the year 7s turned up to their PE lesson. This meant Ben had to be alone so I lied to my registration teacher and said he was helping too.
By the time the year 7s arrived I'd already spoken to Mr Hutchins to find out what I was going to be doing. He told me I could decide as he was in a hurry to get to a meeting with the other PE staff, so he left me with his entire class. I told them to go to the indoor sports hall once they'd changed so I waited there for them whilst figuring out what to do.
I sat them all down and counted how many there were; there were 26 altogether. I waited until they settled down and then began to speak.
"Hi everyone. My name is Daniel and I'll be taking some of your PE lessons for the next few months. Me Hutchins isn't here today but he will be next week, and I presume he'll split you so you can either choose football or rugby. But for today, I'll let you decide what to do, and we'll take a vote. Any questions?"
"Yeah. How old are you?" One kid asked, who was sitting right in front of me.
"I'm 16." I replied, before he shot back another question.
"What's sixth form like?"
"Uhm, It's pretty good, just a lot of homework to do." This received a few moans from the group. "Don't worry, you've got a few years to go yet!"
Instead of responding another kid shouted out, "can we do dodgeball?" Which nicely switched the focus onto what we'd be doing that lesson, instead of talking about me.
After he said this, the rest of them then jumped into life as they got behind the idea of playing dodgeball. After getting them to be quiet, I told them to raise their hands if they wanted to play, which everyone did so I assumed most of them wanted to while the others agreed as a result of peer pressure.
I then told them to partner up with someone their size and ability, and then disappointed them as I split them from each other to go on opposite teams. This worked well since there was an even number, and there was an even distribution of the sporty kids on each side, so the teams were equal and fair. I sent a group of them to get the dodge balls from the storage room in the PE block, and told another group to split the sports hall in half with cones. When the boys arrived back with the balls, I told them to set a ball on each cone and then had them line up against the walls. A few of them tried to get a head start at the beginning before I could blow my whistle, so I had to pull it back a few times, but eventually I blew and the game was underway. I remember when I played dodgeball a few years ago, and I recall it being quite aggressive and intense, but the kids I now watched looked scared to hit each other with the balls and all of them decided to throw underarm. I stopped the game to speak with them about 5 minutes in, because no one was getting knocked out of the game.
"When you throw the ball, it's better if you throw over arm, like this." I said as I demonstrated with a ball. "This way it travels faster and it's easier to get your opponent out."
Then, a small, ginger lad with sunken in eyes and freckles plastered across his face spoke up, "we were told we had to throw underarm, 'cos of health and safety."
Ahh health and safety. Those two implemented words that destroyed the last few years of my childhood by removing anything remotely fun because of a small potential harm.
"Ahh Jesus, look." I sighed as I folded my arms and addressed the whole group again. "Let's forget about health and safety for this lesson. If a teacher asks, tell them you threw underarm. But as long as they don't know, I'll let you throw over arm. It's so much more fun, and I can trust you lads to be sensible."
They all looked up with a mixture of disbelief and ecstasy as they all let out gasps of "get in." And "yesss."
"I take it you're ok with it then! Right, get the balls back in the middle and line up against the wall again. We'll start over."
They did as I asked and we started again, this time it was much more exciting to watch and they seemed to enjoy themselves a lot more than they did before. I was concerned at one point when one of the kids had a ball smash against their stomach, but he just laughed and went to the area designated for those that had been knocked out. I didn't know what I was worrying about, I'm sure they've felt worse than having a plastic ball thrown off them. Even a football would hurt more than this. Fucking health and safety.
One team eventually won after an intense 5 on 1 encounter; the 5 worked together well as they threw their balls all at once, forcing a mistake from the 1. We had plenty of time left, so I suggested that they have another game which they were certainly up for. One of them then shouted, "You can join in! Come on our team!" And exactly the same as before, the whole group joined in and began to spur me on to join in with them. After a brief hesitation I agreed, and joined the side that had previously lost. Admittedly it took little convincing to get me to play. I was envious as I watched beforehand and wanted to join in. (I am still a kid after all.) Of course when I played, I didn't try my hardest, and definitely didn't launch any ball with force at the other team since they're only 11 or 12! Instead I strategically aimed for their feet and caught a few of them out when they were off guard. I had about seven of them out until one of the kids I'd hit shouted to his teammates, "Get Dan out!! Everyone aim for him!" And, yet again, the sheep followed. I was out within seconds as the remaining 6 all launched their balls simultaneously at me. I mockingly dropped to the floor as they all laughed and continued to hurl ball after ball at me. I probably enjoyed this lesson more than I should have and stopped it with about 10 minutes to go so they could get changed.
I waited outside the changing rooms and sat at a table in the foyer where they have to gather before being dismissed for the lesson. They poured out of the changing room one by one and occasionally a few of them came and talked to me to say thank you for the lesson since they'd enjoyed it. I let them go a few minutes early since they were all ready and the fact that I had to get changed for my second lesson too.
I had an annoying few lessons to go to that day but I took consolation in the fact I finished at 2:00. I thought I'd go to the gym for a while after school since I hadn't been on a run that morning. I asked Ben at lunchtime if he wanted to come and he agreed, before boasting about how much he could now bicep curl. I pretended to be impressed and decided I'd have to lift more than him later to beat him; I'm rather competitive, I'll admit, and beating him wouldn't be difficult.
End of part 2.