Guilty Innocence (12 page)

Joshua’s been grieving for his father for two years now; he misses the man who played football with him, listened to him, spent time with him. His mother has long ago made it clear her dead husband isn’t a topic for conversation. She provides her son’s meals and pays his school fees but little else. Joshua’s starving emotionally; his visits to his maternal grandparents are rare and the affection he gets from them isn’t enough to plug the hole in his psyche. So he sits in his smelly toilet cubicle, willing the tears back from his eyes, stern reprimands to himself echoing in his brain.
Get a grip. You shouldn’t be crying, not at your age. Grow up, for God’s sake.

It’s partially successful, because when Joshua unlatches the door and walks out to wash his hands his eyes are only slightly reddened. The toilet block is silent, empty apart from him, a faint whiff of drains joining the usual piss and shit odours. Joshua rests his forearms on the rim of the sink, grabbing an extra shred of respite before returning to the dining hall.

Then Adam Campbell strides through the door.

A pivotal moment in both their lives.

Adam commands Joshua’s attention. Impossible to ignore him. The boy is taller than the rest of Joshua’s peers, puberty beckoning him already; his neck is thick, his shoulders chunky. The rest of his body is equally hefty, sending out unmistakable overtones of
don’t mess with me
. All swagger and attitude. Dark hair, unwashed, flops over his eyes. As he checks out Joshua’s pink-rimmed ones, a tiny grin quirks his mouth.

Something about the other boy’s piercing perusal roots Joshua to where he’s standing. Without being able to voice it in words, on some deep subconscious level he acknowledges the other boy as far higher up the pecking order than he is, along with the fact Adam will lead the way in whatever future relationship they forge. Later on, he thinks the other boy also recognises Joshua’s lower rung on the dominance ladder, zeroing in on him as posing no challenge. Adam singles him out as someone he can control, because Joshua’s inherently weak, unable to stand up for himself. Back then, they fulfil a need in each other, slotting together for all the wrong reasons, the sum being greater than the parts. Between them, they create the monster responsible for a child’s death.

At the time, though, Joshua needs someone to take him in hand. Right then, Adam Campbell seems the best thing to happen to him in a long while.

They don’t say anything to each other, not at first. Joshua finishes drying his hands. Adam pisses noisily into a urinal. Then he speaks.

‘Usually hang around in the park after last period,’ he says. ‘You can join me. Meet me by the gates when we finish.’ Then he’s gone. Joshua realises he doesn’t even know the other boy’s name.

He learns the only reason they’ve not encountered each other before is Adam’s decision to skip morning classes. In the afternoon maths period, Joshua’s keenly aware of Adam sitting a few desks in front of him. His body sprawls out of his seat, his thick legs spread wide, claiming his territory. He makes occasional wise-arse comments to the boy beside him. Joshua experiences a sudden rush of jealousy; he wants to be seated next to the mouthy Adam, who seems to have the world around him sussed out pretty well. It’s a good thing, he thinks, the maths teacher is six feet four and built like a rugby player, because Adam Campbell appears to recognise he’s met his match, not daring to cheek the man. Joshua subsequently witnesses in other classes what Adam will do to the teachers if he senses even a hint of weakness, and it’s not pretty.

He goes to meet him after school and they mooch through the local park. Adam pulls a pack of cigarettes from his bag, offering one to Joshua, laughing when he refuses.

‘Fucking wuss,’ he jeers. Joshua flushes, embarrassed by his lack of savoir-faire.

‘Take it,’ Adam commands, thrusting the cigarette his way. Joshua is helpless, unable to decline, as refusal will make him seem even weaker. Besides, he’s known Adam Campbell less than a day, but he’s keenly aware he’s not a boy to say no to. He takes the cigarette, unsure what to do, resulting in more contempt.

‘Here. Put it in your mouth; drag on it whilst I light it. Jeez, how the hell did you get to be such a nerd? Un - fucking – believable. Been smoking myself since I turned ten and nicked one of my dad’s Marlboros.’

Joshua obeys, the first burning hit of smoke smacking the back of his throat, causing him to splutter, tears spilling from his eyes. The cigarette tastes foul. He tries again, without success, and Adam snatches it from him.

‘Give it here. Don’t want to waste a good ciggie.’ He inhales deeply, no coughing, no spluttering, clearly an old hand at the game. ‘We’ll bunk off tomorrow, go down town, have a laugh.’

Again, certainty that Joshua will comply is inherent in Adam’s tone.

The following afternoon, they wander through Exeter’s Princesshay shopping centre, Joshua tailing Adam; it’s late enough that they can tell anyone who challenges them they have a free period. Nobody does, though. The other boy oozes intimidation, even towards adults. Joshua’s a little alarmed when Adam snatches a cigarette lighter from one of the small carts trading in the precinct, but doesn’t say anything. Like the smoking, it’s clearly something else at which Adam’s well practised. Joshua’s always been one to stick by the rules and to see them broken so blatantly holds a certain fascination.

During the first few weeks of their relationship, Joshua’s subjected to more of the same; contempt, cigarettes in the park, a few items stolen whenever Adam spots his chance. Underpinning it all is always the unspoken rule that Joshua will do whatever Adam dictates, without question. At first, though, everything’s fine. He’s content in his position lower down the pecking order, never noticing how the other boys avoid him now they’ve sussed he’s Adam’s sidekick. For Joshua, it’s enough to have a mate to hang around with, someone different, someone daring and challenging, possessing all the fire and spunk he doesn’t.

It stops being exciting a few weeks into their friendship, when Joshua challenges Adam for the first time. He’s growing increasingly uneasy about the bunking off and the petty theft, concerned they’ll get caught at one or the other before long. His mother’s reaction if that happens won’t be pretty.

‘Aren’t you worried someone will see you?’ he asks one day after Adam lifts a cheap watch from a street vendor. The other boy snorts in derision.

‘What the fuck are they going to do? By the time they catch on, I’ll be long gone.’ He studies Joshua intently. His scrutiny is unnerving, making Joshua wish he’d never raised the issue.

‘What a fucking wuss you are. A mummy’s boy, that’s you all over. Too shit-scared of your own shadow to ever step out of line. That’s where all the fun is, mate.’ He punches Joshua on the arm, supposedly in jest, but it hurts, a reminder of how much bigger Adam is, how easy it would be for him to enforce his dominance should Joshua ever challenge him. He fingers the watch, acting grateful when Adam says he can keep it.

‘It’s crap. Only a fucking queer nancy boy would wear shit like that.’ He punches Joshua’s arm, too forcefully again, as he laughs, and Joshua’s careful to conceal his wince. Adam’s right; the watch is cheap and tacky, and Joshua tells himself he’ll give it to some homeless guy. Clearly, the other boy doesn’t steal because he wants the item; he does it because it’s all a lark and he gets high on the adrenaline rush.

A few days later, Adam joins him in the park, his arm curled around something hidden under his jacket. They wander down to a secluded part under some trees. Adam pulls out a bottle of cheap cider.

‘Got this earlier on,’ he announces. ‘Had to run like hell when the alarm went off but fuck, what a laugh! The wanker in the shop was old and fat, never stood a chance of catching me.’ He unscrews the top, the cider fizzing inside the bottle, and draws a long draught into his mouth. Joshua’s never tasted cider, but he knows he’s about to; he prays it’ll be easier to deal with than the cigarettes, the taste of which still revolts him. Adam passes him the bottle. Relief hits him as the cider pings off the back of his throat. Not bad at all; he could get to like the stuff, although he daren’t risk going home to Joanna Barker tipsy. So he takes small swigs against Adam’s large ones, never asking for the bottle, which Adam hogs anyway. They sprawl on the grass, Adam commenting on the tits of the women who serve lunch at school, enthusing over the firm, high boobs of one of them.

‘Wouldn’t mind giving the blonde tart a fuck,’ he boasts. Pure bravado, of course, Joshua realises. Nothing but talk, aimed at reinforcing his hard nut image. For now, anyway. Thing is, though, Adam’s physically way ahead of the game for eleven years of age, and Joshua doesn’t think the loss of the other boy’s virginity will be too far off. Sex. The idea seems repellent; girls are a giggling mystery to him, strange and alien, and he’s content to leave the whole thing alone for now. Even if Adam does taunt him about his reluctance. ‘Fucking nancy boy,’ he jeers, before resuming his eulogy about the dinner woman’s boobs.

Despite his earlier resolve, Joshua feels the alcohol gradually warming him through, relaxing him, giving him boldness he doesn’t normally possess with Adam. He’s drunk just enough to take the edge off the need to defer to the other boy. When the conversation gets round to what they’ll do that weekend, Joshua seizes his chance. He’s tired of playing underdog, desperate for once to do something with Adam he doesn’t feel secretly ashamed of afterwards.

‘We’ll try our luck down town again Saturday. Been wanting myself a leather jacket,’ Adam says.

‘I don’t think we should pinch any more stuff.’ Joshua’s voice comes out firm and strong.

Adam doesn’t reply straight away. Then, his eyes drilling through Joshua’s, he injects pure steel into his tone.

‘What did you say, nancy boy?’

With that, Joshua’s resolve hightails it out of the park, leaving him realising he’s challenged Adam, a departure from the norm. When he replies, the strength has vanished from his voice, the words coming out too high in pitch.

‘I said I don’t think we should pinch any more stuff.’

Adam’s gaze terrifies him but Joshua can’t bring himself to break eye contact, although he dearly wants to. Snake and rabbit, deer and headlights, they stare at each other as Adam’s boozed-up brain processes the fact someone’s dared to challenge his dominance. Joshua realises Adam’s drunk a lot more of the cider than he has. He’s got no idea how it’ll affect him, but he doesn’t reckon it’ll be in a good way.

And he’s right. Quicker than a snake’s strike, Adam’s right arm shoots out, grabbing Joshua’s throat, slamming him onto the grass, pinning him down with his bulk. His hand catches Joshua’s windpipe in a powerful vice, but his eyes do the scaring. Some dark quality within them strikes Joshua as abnormal, although he’s uncertain how he knows this. What he sees in Adam speaks of instability, of not being bound by conscience or any restraint from doing what he wants, whenever it suits. Combined with his size and strength, it’s a terrifying mix, and for the first time Joshua realises he’s scared shitless of the other boy, terrified of what those weird eyes say he’s capable of doing.

His hand still constricting Joshua’s windpipe, Adam never breaks eye contact.

‘You’ll fucking well do what I say.’ Saliva flicks from Adam’s mouth as he spits the words out. Fear overwhelms Joshua, his breathing laboured against Adam’s grip. He gasps as he tries to force the word
sorry
past his constricted windpipe.

Adam reaches into his inside pocket with his spare hand. He brings out a flick knife and releases the blade. Joshua’s eyes dart to Adam’s hand, clasped tightly around the knife. He’s sweating now with terror. Adam inches the knife up to Joshua’s throat, the edge indenting the flesh without breaking the skin.

‘You got that?’ Joshua’s head bobs up and down, his eyes never leaving Adam’s face. Adam doesn’t let go immediately, but he slackens his grip. Joshua’s breathing gradually gets easier, less laboured. Adam clicks shut the flick knife, replacing it in his pocket, and moves back, still with his hand encircling Joshua’s throat. He nods in satisfaction. Then he lets go, leaving Joshua gasping on the ground, more frightened than he’s ever been in his life.

Adam passes him the cider. His voice is back to normal when he next speaks.

‘Get some of this down you, you fucking wuss.’ He leans back on his elbows, surveying Joshua with an amused expression, all trace of the rage of a few seconds ago erased. It’s as if he shifted gear temporarily into something dark and horrifying and now he’s back to normal, although Joshua later suspects the murky side is Adam’s natural state. He gulps down the cider, the bubbles gliding over his bruised throat, as he attempts to process the incident.

Adam laughs. ‘You’re so fucking easy to wind up at times. Should have seen your face. Bloody priceless.’

Joshua sits up. He should be getting home but daren’t risk saying anything. So he takes another sip of cider, staring at Adam, wondering how the darkness within can come and go so quickly, leaving no trace. Adam goes back to talking about boobs, coarse stuff about what he’d like to do to the dinner woman, and Joshua’s safe. For now.

He’s shaken up by the incident, though. That night, he lies in bed, unable to sleep, trying to decide what course of action to take where Adam Campbell’s concerned. Best to back off, he tells himself, mix more with the other boys. Find some new mates. No more constant anxiety over whether his mother will discover he’s been bunking off school. So far, his absences have gone unnoticed or unchallenged but his luck can’t last.

The next day, he avoids Adam, opting instead to hang around near the other boys, hoping he’ll be invited to join them at football practice, to eat with them, or whatever. It doesn’t happen, despite Joshua’s best efforts over the ensuing week. He’s allowed to partake in conversations, but the invites for more don’t come. By then, the friendship cliques are long established, their ranks firmly closed against outsiders, and whilst Joshua isn’t left out, he’s not exactly made welcome either.