The Story of us

Chapter Three: Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

My hunch proved ominously true the next day when I arrived at Kensington and found a crowd of people in the entrance hall, standing in a ring and jeering at whatever - or whoever - was unlucky enough to be at the centre. I bit hard on my lip when I saw who the victim was, not that it was a surprise.

But the way Kevin Grey stood in the middle like a cornered animal, spinning around quickly on his heel to take in everyone's pitiless faces at once, made my stomach clench. It was a vile sight. His fellow peers, probably those whom he'd laughed and joked together with once, were so quick to stab him in the back and treat him like this now.

"Stop - stop!" he gasped as a boy caught him by the collar and shoved him to the other side of the ring, where he was promptly shoved back. The jeers rose to a fever pitch as I felt sickened to the stomach. Zayn Malik and the rest of his group were nowhere to be seen, and yet the students were still so eager to participate in his disgusting games.

"You want us to stop?" sneered a boy as Kevin, breathless and bruised, stood hunched over in the centre of the ring. "Then beg. Get on your knees and beg."

Kevin Grey looked up slowly, taking laboured breaths. He looked desperately at the expectant and smug faces around him. I clenched my fists, unaware of how tense my body had become.

Don't do it, I found myself pleading silently, Don't give in to them. Come on, stick up for yourself!

Very slowly, he sank down onto his knees and disappointment filled me as the students whistled and cheered.

"Now sing for us, Grey," the boy laughed raucously.

"What?"

"I said sing for us, pretty boy."

"I - "

"Alright, alright, break it up!" called a loud, authoritative voice from behind the ring. About time. A teacher strode over, waving his arms as students started to disperse, "The bell has gone, move off to class. Mr Grey, get off the floor at once. Where is your dignity, boy?"

Kevin painfully rose to his feet, and I caught sight of a large bruise on his arm.

"Sir," he began. "I need - "

"Did you or did you not hear me the first time, Grey?" the teacher snapped.

For a long moment, both Kevin and I just stared at him in disbelief. Then, defeated, Kevin limped off. The teacher rounded on me instead. "And what are you still doing here, madam?"

I didn't need to be told twice. I turned on my heel and walked off as quickly as I could, struggling to contain my shock and horror. I felt as if someone had just shook me up and slapped me across the face, and all for no apparent reason. Now I understood what Katherine and Danielle had meant yesterday.

Day two at Kensington College taught me just what happened to a victim of the Red Card. You were tripped whenever you walked down a corridor, pelted by balls of paper and books whenever the teacher's back was turned in class, or by food if you were in the cafeteria. Your possessions were bound to be covered in swear words and ugly names by the end of the day, and if you were unlucky enough to be ambushed by students during breaks, you were subject to what was called the Ring of Judgment.

And all this because Kevin Grey had checked the last book out of the library that Zayn Malik wanted.

"It's not as if he couldn't have bought ten copies of that exact same book in three seconds, anyway," Danielle sighed after telling me this during lunch hour.

One morning of the week, I went to Kensington bright and early to do what I'd come to this school for. Shivering in the cold with a coat over my uniform, armed with my violin case and a map of the school campus, I finally found the music department. My mouth fell open when I went inside. The room was huge and sumptuously decorated, full of resources to fulfill any musician's wildest dreams. I spent a good half hour poking through the music folders that lined the shelves and examining the sound system installed. Then, finding a spot by the window that overlooked the beautiful courtyard, I took out my violin and played to my heart's content.