Three Weeks in Hell

Chapter 5

The mind-numbing routine of the detention centre seriously tried Callen's patience; the constant regimented structure of the day, the lack of ability for him to do whatever he wanted when he wanted. The craving for freedom persistently gnawed away at him and he struggled to control his emotions and his mouth, regularly earning himself extra class work or a slap either Mr Jessop or one of the Correction Officers. So far the other kids had pretty much left him alone, hopefully, Callen thought, as they realised he would be the one throwing the first punch.

The days soon blurred in to one another and despite his best intentions, he did fall in to the imposed routine without any further incidents. With the exception of his first two days in class, Callen now completed the Maths, English and any other work presented to him. He still did the bare minimum required to scrape through but the result was that he was not hauled in front of the class as often, unlike Southerby, who still suffered that humiliation on a daily basis. Both boys avoided speaking to each other and rarely made eye contact, something that Mr Jessop suddenly noticed the following week.

"And what do we have here?" The teacher asked the class. "Southerby and Callen seem to be doing their best to ignore each other. And when they were so close last week. Lover's tiff, maybe?"

The boys sniggered at Mr Jessop's words; they all knew about Southerby's sexual preferences. A piece of screwed up paper was thrown at the back Callen's head, landing on the floor beside his desk. Callen ignored it but Mr Jessop was not going to allow him that luxury.

"Pick it up boy," he ordered.

Callen leaned over and grabbed it from the floor. He kept it screwed up in his hand and remained at his desk.

"Stand up. Front of the class. You and Southerby."

Reluctantly, Callen noisily scraped his chair along the floor and slowly stood. He walked to the front, paper still in his hand.

"Southerby? Do you know the correct word for 'gay'?" Mr Jessop asked the shaking fourteen year old.

Jake remained silent, his eyes cast on the floor. This was an area of humiliation he had so far managed to avoid in the class and generally at Southgate. Callen on the other hand, was not prepared to be made a laughing stock, no matter what the punishment may be.

"Happy. To be gay means to be happy," Callen interrupted, unsure whether his answer would help build his reputation as fearless or mean he was cementing his association with Jake.

A couple of the boys laughed. Mr Jessop roughly prodded Callen in the chest and said. "Looks like Callen's better at English than he pretends to be. But homosexual is the word I was looking for. What does it mean Callen?"

"Liking other boys," Callen sullenly replied, staring at his feet.

"Do you?" Jessop asked. "And look at me when I speak to you."

Callen slowly lifted his head, tilting up his chin. He narrowed his eyes and met Jessop's. "No," he said, insolently.

"Open up that bit of paper in your hand."

Callen did as he was told, unravelling the screwed up paper and holding it in both hands.

"Tell me and the class what's written on it," Jessop ordered, glancing at his audience.

Callen took a deep breath and swallowed. "It says 'cook socker'." He smirked at Mr Jessop, pleased that whoever wrote it could barely form his letters. Again there was a murmur among the class and muted laughter.

Jessop snatched the paper from his hand. "Interesting, however I think you might need glasses." He took a pen from his desk and traced over the letters to make them clearer and handed the paper back to Callen. "Try again."