Success Story

3.

On my first day of year one, Dad decided that I can walk myself to school now. So I did. I mean, I was scared, any kid would be. Every time a car slowed down, I panicked and started walking faster. I may have been young, but I was street smart enough to know about kidnappers and people like that. 

Still, although there was a part of me that liked the independence of walking alone for a couple of minutes, I still weirdly missed walking with Dad. Sure, he could be unloving and cold and borderline hostile, but he was my Dad. And often, he spent so little time with me that I tried to make the most of the attention that I got. 

Speaking of Dad, it was the year 2009 and it was his final year at uni. He was basically drowning under essays and various assignments, so I ended up spending a lot of time in my room reading and drawing. A lot of kids that I knew were busy going to the park with their parents, or to the cinema or to restaurants in the evening, but for me, "family time" included Dad making me a sandwich and waiting for my dirty plate. Except for a quick "thanks", nothing else was said.

And Ralph? Nah, we didn't talk much either anymore. He still spoke to Dad, but they weren't really as close anymore. It was kind of sad really; we were pretty much a family away from home. OK, so not really, but the closest thing that I'd ever really had. I know that I lived with my Dad, but he didn't really feel like my Dad. Fran had come the closest to ever loving me, but still felt like a friend. My grandparents? Well, let's just say that they rivalled Dad with the depths of coldness at times. 

So when I got into school, I had that moment of excitement when I realized that I got to go into a whole new room for year one. I pushed through the doors that had seemed like a version of utopia for a whole two years. It felt like the start of a whole new era. Maybe even the mean Verity Adams would be so evil. 

It took about two minutes into tutor-time for me to realize that one other year didn't make a difference. Almost immediately, I saw Verity sat in that circle of power whispering to that poisonous group of sheep around her about me. Probably because I was sat there with a messy ponytail reading a book under the table. I didn't care... or at least that's what I say. 

I mean, in year one, you'd think that bullying wouldn't be that bad, especially in 2009 when there's not a lot of opportunities for cyberbullying (especially because I didn't have a phone), but that doesn't mean that a class of nearly thirty children coming up with a set of nicknames for another child is impossible.

Quite the opposite really. 

Verity, although she was good at maths, wasn't the smartest girl when it came to imagination. She just came out with basic remarks like "Fat-butt-Mia", which did hurt. Obviously. No girl likes being told that she's overweight. Then she got Camilla involved. 

Camilla Dukes unfortunately had an older sister, aged 21, who went to Leeds university. And worse, she happened to be enrolled on the English course. Camilla and her sister, Valencia, happen to know (or know of) one person who could really influence some new nicknames. 

Actually, speaking of Valencia, one day I came home from school - Dad wasn't home - so I helped myself to some crisps and a bottle of water and grabbed my book out of my bag and curled on the sofa quietly reading, until I heard some very loud noises from Ralph's bedroom. I didn't know what was, but that squeaking and moaning didn't sound good. 

Intrigued, I quietly padded down the hallway. I quietly opened Ralph's door, to be faced with a lot more than I ever imagined. 

Almost immediately, Ralph jumped off the bed, and a recognizable blonde threw the blanket over herself. She turned to face me, and I realized who she was. This was Valencia Dukes. The girl who was stood in the kitchen that day when Ralph and I stopped talking. This also explained how Camilla knew that Dad was 21, and that he had me when he was barely legal. 

Oh, and one quick detail, Valencia and my Dad used to date.

Just as Valencia screamed at me to get out her room, I ran down the corridor and then the front door clicked open, Dad stood there. He looked surprised. Then angry. He pushed past me (who was terrified and traumatized) and fully lost it at Ralph. Then there was a punch noise. Then I ran into my room. And it all gets a little hazy after that.

One thing I do remember was Dad coming into my room later on. I remember that we sat on my bed, and for the first time in my life, he actually read a story to me. I thought that this might be the pivot point, but no, I was wrong.