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OK/Rory 2

Rory

Listen, I got kicked out of school ok. Stuff went bad for a while and I did one particular terrible thing. That’s what everyone said anyway. They all said ‘Rory you’ve done something terrible ok, we have no choice but to ask you to leave’. I didn’t cry and beg them to stay.  I hated that school anyway. I was only there because my dad went there when he was a kid and his dad too but they’re all dead so what does it matter. They can’t be disappointed in me or anything because they’re dead and really they can’t ever even know what happened or that I let them down. It’s only the school and my mum who are disappointed but the school has kicked me out and mum is in Dubai.  Mum is always in Dubai. What I’m meant to do now is go home and spend the summer in the London house but I don’t feel like being stuck in London all summer. I hate London really. I hate the tube especially but the thing I hate the most is that I might see someone from my old school and they might ask me about what I did because they’re bound to know and I won’t know what to say. What can I say anyway?  Say someone, someone like Yazmina or Carter sees me and asks me why I did it then I wouldn’t have even a half decent answer. I don’t know, I’d probably say, I just felt like burning something.  Yazmina would be the most upset.  We slept together twice and she thought she was pregnant but everything ended up ok. She thinks we have some connection though.  She’d probably go, yeah Rory but why’d you have to burn a cat. She loves cats.  She would’ve loved that cat even though it was blind, red eyed and had this massive tumour lump on its back. She’d have this lovely picture of a kitten in her head and she’d shake her head and walk off probably.  Even Carter wouldn’t understand that it wasn’t about the cat. He’d probably say, man that’s messed up and walk off too. Even he wouldn’t understand that our headmaster loved that cat and I hated our headmaster so it was obvious. The cat had to go. Anyway, I can’t back to London for other reasons so I just get on a train and go north.  Go wherever.  What’s weird is that I could have gone east or west or even south, gone right the way south over the Channel to France and all the way down to granddad’s place near Carcassonne even. But I go north and I get on that train and I sit in that seat and there behind the crappy pull down plastic table are the pictures. Six pictures of this girl. Six pictures with six dates and six locations scrawled on the back.  All of them are of this really beautiful beyond beautiful girl with hair blacker than mine. And all the way north I stare at her and I get this feeling in the bottom of my stomach, this realisation just the same as the cat and our headmaster, the obviousness, that I have to find her, that I have to find her and tell her how beyond beautiful she is.

 

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About michaeleganpoetry

Liverpool based poet and editor. I have had four pamphlets of poetry published, most recently After Stikklestad (Knives, Forks and Spoons Press, 2010). Penned in the Margins published my first collection, Steak & Stations, in 2010.

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