The Old One

The Old One

Gren De Bouverie

.

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2013 Gren De Bouverie

License Notes: This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Ebook formatting by www.ebooklaunch.com

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

-1-

So glad that shit's over for the day, I'll soon be playing tennis on the garage door, that'll make me feel better. Is that you home Gren, yeah mum, your father wants to see you in the study. Shit, my stomach drops, ok, as I wander down to the kitchen my mother is there crying into a teatowel. Are you ok mum, yeah I'm fine don't worry about me, just go out and see your father.

Bloody report books, mine came home yesterday. Dad was at work, so I know what he wants. Now the study out the back is a separate room from the main house, my father collects all things concerned with railways, which is handy I guess cause he also drives locomotives. Bookshelves floor to ceiling line three walls, there's a great big desk in the middle, which my father sits behind in a big swivel chair. My seat I know, will be a short three legged stool.

I knock on the door, yes, it's Gren, 10 seconds later the door opens, come in, my report book is open right in the middle of that big desk. Hi dad, no answer. I sit on my little stool my father walks behind me and sits in his big swivel chair. What is the meaning of this he says pointing at my report book. I..I d..don't know dad I'm sorry, don't be sorry this has been going on all year, your grades are getting worse and worse and cut out that stammering. What do you think you're going to do with yourself in life, according to this Nothing. All your teachers have said the same thing, could try harder, doesn't pay attention, doesn't participate, won't extend himself, what do you think school is some bloody holiday. No dad, If you don't wake up to yourself very soon you're going to finish up a total no-hoper, do you understand that, Yes dad, I don't care about the other kids acting the goat, playing the fool, you don't have to join in if you don't have an education in this life you will be nothing, do you understand. Yes dad, You don't have to be bloody popular you're there to learn I know you're a lot smarter than these marks, so cut out the bullshit and knuckle down to your studies, stop trying to be a big man at school and just get stuck right into the work. Yes dad, and you can stop that habit too, Sorry, and no more hitting that bloody tennis ball on the garage door, if you want to play tennis go to the courts but only after you've done your homework and study, yes dad, stop bloody saying yes dad, do you understand you are going to finish up a total no-hoper if you don't do something about it, I do, good then get out of my sight. As I close the door on the way out I think to myself, how unfair those words in the report book are, true maybe, but so unfair. I can see why he's so annoyed, all he's got is those words. I can't tell the real story there should be no dobbing no matter what. Everyone has to go through the same thing.

Mum's still wiping her eyes with the teatowel, how'd it go with your father Gren ok mum I'm sorry, that's alright son, you know you can do better, I know, do you want to have some weet-bix, yeah okay. Getting the packet from the cupboard I grab a bowl, we have small bowls, but I've worked out if I crunch up three weet-bix in the bottom I can fit another four on top. Putting heaps of sugar on making the milk spill on the table I think I better just eat it here in the kitchen, don't want to go into the lounge and turn the TV on in case the old man comes in and gives me another serve. When you finish that Gren, you better go up to your room and see if you can do some study, okay mum, have you got some homework or something you can do in case your father comes in, yeah no worries. Spooning the last of the milk into my mouth isn't as sweet as usual, even though the same amount of sugar is in it, nothing is the same the day school reports come out, nothing. Putting the spoon and bowl into the sink I head up to my room, should say our room, cause I share with my younger brother Keith, he's only six, knows nothing about life. I don't shut the door because dad doesn't like closed doors, now I need to get changed out of this school uniform, mum would have normally pulled me up over that but when she's upset she doesn't. Right into shorts and teeshirt, hang up my school shorts and jumper, now what.

Schoolwork, huh, what a bastard the old man is, mum's out there crying, cause she would have got in the shit over my report, happens every term, you don't drive him hard enough to study he says to her, it's all your fault, mum sticks up for me and that just makes him more angry. Makes me feel so bad when I know I've caused them to have an argument. And for what, my education, what a joke, just to get through a single period not even a day without a major incident is great. At least now I know for sure that I'm never going to do any good after I finish school, it doesn't bother me a jot I just want to be out of the joint. Surely it just can't get any worse. Totally pissed off with everything , pulling faces, the grunting noises, being called swaggy, the old man, knowing I've got school forever cause I'm only just thirteen, so sick and tired of being picked on, I really feel bad, don't know why I haven't killed myself already it just goes on and on and on, think I'm gonna cry.

Stop it you weak bastard I say to myself, why I answer, no good sitting around feeling sorry for yourself I say why not I answer, cause everyone has to go through the same thing, I wonder if everyone gets the right answer from themselves I say, of course I answer Wow. Talking it through with myself really helps, so that's what you're supposed to do, never done it before but I'll sure as hell be doing it again.

What was that Gren mum called, nothing mum just reading aloud, shit need to be careful I don't talk too loud, so this is the secret get the answers from yourself, fantastic I whisper, of course I answer. This is how everyone does it, why, why has it taken me thirteen years to figure it out. Feels great, I've got a friend, and he's always with me, always got the right answer, never picks on me, at last someone on my side.

Bang, shit it's the back screen door, gotta be the old man cause Keith's watching TV and my sisters are out. Pick a book any book, maths, that'll impress him, he walks up and into my room, good to see you working, I think we need to work you out a study timetable maybe something like this. He puts a card on the desk, that he's divided into seven, one for each day. If you work your subjects into days and times, and stick to the timetable, you'll see great results by the end of the year. Very good idea dad I'll get onto it as soon as I finish this, the sooner the better fella, sooner the better. Now I've got to go to a meeting I expect to see that timetable worked out tomorrow, sure dad it'll be done. I stay with the maths book, two minutes later I hear him call out, I'm off Vicki (that's my mum) there's no answer, mum's still crying into the teatowel, thirty seconds later the car reverses out of the driveway, I rest easy at last. Putting aside the maths book I pick up the piece of card, this is my chance to really impress him. Mum comes in, patting her eyes with the teatowel, what's he say Gren, he just wants me to make up a study timetable so I know what I have and haven't done, oh ok can you do it by yourself, yeah mum, no worries. I write Monday thru Sunday on the seven sections, how easy is this, do what people want you to do and everything is simple. This is not going to make one bit of difference to me, but if it keeps the old man happy then it's just too easy.

Right, got English, Maths, Science and History to fit into 7 days. Thank god I can't do homework on woodwork and sheetmetal, absolutely bloody useless at both of them but it's just something they do at Tutty Tech. They're both bloody disastrous classes for me, constantly asked for the old one or for a grunt, Teachers can't hear a bloody thing over the hammering and bashing of kids making things. Even though I hate the bloody ratpack as I call them (to myself) sometimes I'm jealous of the way they can cut and piece the wood in the proper way so it fits together and makes something that looks good, or bend and solder tin together to make a nice little box. My efforts are so bad never, ever turn out any good at all, I seem to have no ability whatsoever when it comes to making anything, I try really hard but nothing, no improvement, absolutely bloody useless.

Ok so I'll go Monday English Science, Tuesday Maths History, Wednesday Science Maths, Thursday Science History, Friday English Maths, Saturday History Maths and Sunday I'll just put revision all. Sounds quite good I think that revision all, yes he'll be very pleased with that. Gee it makes me feel good when I've done something dad will like, doesn't happen very often at all though cause the only things he seems to like about me are all about school. Complete bastard of a place hate it hate it hate it wish I'd never been born, don't want to go there just so bad. Just seems so stupid trying to keep going I'm only going to be a no-hoper in life anyway, never ever going to improve maybe I really should die. Done this bloody timetable for what to impress him, that's not going to help anything when the next report book comes home, it'll be the same it'll be the same forever it just goes on and on and on.

-2-

Gidday Gren, hi Isobel (my younger sister) so my sisters are home from school, I can hear Michelle my other sister as well. We're all 2 years apart and I'm the eldest, think I should be the smartest, lucky they do cause no-one else does especially dad. Least it's different here, don't get picked on, not the bottom of the list, bloody school causes all my problems Buggered if I know what happened when I was at Tuttanham Primary School which my sisters are at now. I had no problems whatsoever. All I've done really is jumped over the fence cause the two schools are side by side. Used to be great I was good in class always answering questions probably even one of the brains but no-one ever said anything bad to me or anyone else. Time in the playground was fun cricket, football, general playing around it was such fun. I never made faces or noises, it was just fantastic to go to school then. Now a year and a half later it's like I'm in a totally different world, I can still see Tutty State School from the quadrangle of Tutty Tech, I really wish I was back there. No kids from my year 6 class are in my class now. In fact I think there was only 3 or 4 kids that came to Tutty Tech from state school in my year. It just seems so, so different never any fun, no-one in my class lives anywhere near me, not that I'd want to muck around with them anyway especially the ratpack, well maybe a couple of the others but they wouldn't want to be hanging around with me anyway I'm sure of that. I reckon it'd help me a bit if I could stay up later at night and watch some of the shows they watch on TV. The ratpack especially are always talking about some show or other that's on after 8.30 sometimes even 10.00. My bedtime is a strict 8.00 which I reckon is way too early seeing as though I'm 13, and there's so much good stuff on tele after 8.30. Not like anyone else is watching my sisters and brother are in bed, dad's usually out at some meeting or another, if not at work and mum's generally doing some sort of work around the house, just doesn't seem to make any sense when mum says Gren turn the TV off it's bedtime, I mean it just sits there and goes to waste don't understand why, I'm never tired, the other kids watch and watch why can't I. Have asked mum often (never dad) can I stay up a bit later always the same answer, you need your sleep am definitely going to keep asking her, not giving up. Spose there's one good thing about living here no-one picks on me like at school, being the eldest I guess I'm lucky I guess I'm kinda in charge of Michelle, Isobel and Keith they never ever ask me why I pull faces or make noises, never make fun of it I often wonder if they even notice it. Mum and dad on the other hand will often say stop that bloody habit but things like that don't upset me cause I hate doing it wish I could stop but it just goes on and on something I have no control over whatsoever. Spose there's more things than just that Mum's always nice to me if she tells me to do something and I don't feel like it I can always say something like I'll do it later or ok and not do it at all, I reckon she knows what I don't do cause sometimes she gets real mad not often though. Dad though's totally different when he says do something whether it's chores or homework it has to be done straight away, no arguing just do it, don't know why I'm scared of him he's never ever hit me or anything, think it's just his big voice and the way he gets red in the face when he's angry that scares me and boy does he get angry quick when he wants to. He always says I need a good clip around the ears and that really scares me just the thought of that big hand belting me around my ears brrrr sends shivers right up my spine hopefully that's never going to happen. Quite sure he wouldn't mind a jot if I killed myself not that I've ever given it any thought like how it