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  Susan stood listening to the voice of reason for a few more minutes before ending the call. She walked into the hallway and stared at herself in the mirror, her eyes narrowing. Through gritted teeth she hissed at her reflection. ‘I’ll catch you, Donny, and when I do, I’ll ruin you, honest to God, I’ll break you into a thousand pieces if you think you can mess with me.’

  Chapter Two

  The bass was thumping as Donny arrived at work. He was singing his head off, lost in the moment. The pupil referral school was in Moston, about five miles north-east of Manchester city centre. Down at heel would have been gilding the lily; the area around the school was riven by poverty, dangerous too. The crime rate was through the roof – if it wasn’t nailed down, it would go on the missing list. Unemployment levels were high, families living hand-to-mouth to survive, doing anything they could to keep their heads above water. For most people, that meant grafting, helping each other out and going without. But for some folk, there was nowhere left to turn, they’d do anything to survive. And that ‘anything’ included benefit fraud, shoplifting, robbery. For other people, desperation meant an opportunity to trade off other people’s misery. Turn down one wrong street and you’d reach a place most people avoided at all costs, unless they wanted trouble. Sure, there were some parts that felt like they were on the up – but like any city, there was a fine line between the haves and the have-nots.

  Next to the streets of houses where people just wanted a quiet life lay the homes and flats and alleys where people wanted the exact opposite. Here, the air stank of doom and gloom; it was a world a passerby would likely turn a blind eye to, pretend it never existed. A concrete jungle with more than its fair share of addicts off their heads, drunks staggering about or bent over the gutters. There was a new class A craze that had just reached the area too; plenty of spice-heads off their faces, walking about like zombies, not a clue what day it was. They seemed to go from normal to drooling idiots in no time, unable to put a sentence together, talking gibberish. Why would you take something that made you act like that, thought Donny. Still, he had no problems working here though, he was a tough cookie, his background had prepared him for this and worse. He’d been brought up on a council estate and wasn’t wet behind the ears; he knew the crack on the streets, understood what was what. Streetwise, he was. Knew more about this world than he would ever let on. He was fairly young for a headmaster, only in his thirties, but he’d packed a lot in. And anyway, Donny still reckoned he had it, though he hated that he was getting older. They say life begins at forty, and he told everyone he would welcome it with open arms, embrace it, but in truth he dreaded it. He had things he wanted to have achieved by forty. He had goals – and he knew you didn’t make it by playing everything by the book. Still, he wasn’t there yet and he could be as down with the kids as the next man. He loved music, kept up to date with all the up-and-coming artists, knew the scene. He would sit for hours listening to his favourite tracks whenever he got the chance. They chilled him out, made him feel relaxed and helped him drift away to a place where he felt safe, secure.

  Stormzy’s ‘Blinded By Your Grace’ was the song the kids in his school started their day with. They loved it too, sang their hearts out to the tune. No old fashioned hymns sung here, no thanking the Lord for the gifts he had given them. This was a school of hard knocks and the methods of teaching nothing like what you’d find in the mainstream. That’s probably why it worked. The kids sounded great too when they sang, the words meant something to each and every one of them. And to Donny too. He’d been broken in the past and he’d been fixed just like the lyrics said. Susan had saved him back then and for that he would always be thankful. But he wanted to forget about those days: he was strong now, no room for even the memory of weakness.

  Second Chance had been running for over four years, with Donny the headteacher from the start; he’d worked his balls off to get to where he was today. A diamond in the rough he branded himself. But three years at university, endless training courses, and jobs in schools trying to work his way up the ladder had finally paid off. He knew he was great with the students no one else could handle, and always dealt with them fairly. His methods of running the school were not always orthodox and provoked regular mutterings in the education department, but he got the job done and had a real connection with the kids. All the staff did; it was more than a job, more like one big family. At least most of the time. It wasn’t just about ticking all the boxes and reaching targets. For Donny it was about caring for these students – listening to them when nobody else would and giving them a voice of their own and someone they could always count on. Most of the kids at Second Chance had nothing positive in their lives; no family support, no money, no motivation. Lost causes in the eyes of everyone else. Kids that society would rather hide away than admit the education system had failed them. His job was about building them up, making them part of the school family – the ‘Chance’ family he called it.

  The kids who came here were all different, each one of them unique. They’d all had problems somewhere along the line, some more serious than others. If you’d read their care plans you’d have been tempted to get your coat on, never step through the front door again. Arson, violence, knife crime, drug abuse; you name it, these kids had done it. But Donny was the backbone of the school and he was always there when the shit hit the fan.

  His parents had been amazed when he told them he was going to university – he’d never shown much interest in school, never even wanted to go most of the time. He’d been a nightmare, even at primary school: a real mard arse, moaning constantly, telling his parents that he didn’t fit in and that he hated it. Then the bed-wetting started, though that wasn’t his fault; it was down to Trevor Beats. A little bastard he was. All the other parents complained about him too, but nothing ever got done. Everyone just seemed to just turn a blind eye to his reign of terror, let him carry on bullying the other kids day in day out. He’d made Donny’s life a misery from the moment he met him. Donny looked back now and realised the system had failed back then. Donny’s parents had been to the school many times to complain but the story was always the same. ‘It’s just kids, being kids, and maybe Donny should toughen up,’ the headmaster would say – and that was that. Trevor bullied Donny every single day of his primary school life, punching him, kicking him when nobody was looking, nicking his lunch money. And when they finally hit high school, it got worse; the punches got harder, the bruises got darker and Donny hated school more than ever. Most of all he hated that he’d never stood up for himself. He had even thought about running away, never coming back. The stress was too much. He should have been out with his mates, enjoying his teens, but he spent most of those years on the sofa, comfort eating to forget what went on at school. He was nearly sixteen by the time he finally managed to put a lid on it and that was the turning point in his life.

  He’d had enough of being the victim. He just wanted to feel normal again and if Trevor was in his life that was never going to happen. He had to sort it out – one way or another.

  That day at Morton High School had started out the same as any other, Trevor doing his rounds, picking on all the vulnerable kids, pushing them, spitting at them, making them feel worthless. He was a total gobshite but thought he was the dog’s bollocks. He must have been earning a few quid too, even back then, taking money from every student he bullied.

  It was survival of the fittest at that school. Every day was a popularity contest – one Donny felt like he was always losing. But it didn’t stop him watching the kids who knew how to play the game. Bethany Greggs was one of the hottest girls in the school and every boy there wanted to have her on their arm, including Trevor. She was fit, everyone said so; long, dark hair to her waist and beautiful deep brown eyes. Donny had admired her from afar for years – he’d fancied her along with the rest of the lads, but he never told anyone that. She was way out of his league and what would she see in him, anyway? He was a nob
ody – a greasy, spotty teenager who would barely even make eye contact. But on the day that everything changed, one of the main reasons that he finally stood up for himself was Bethany. He was sick of feeling helpless, sick of looking like a failure, sick of people talking about him behind his back. He’d heard the names they called him; coward, yellow-belly, waste of space. He’d had enough.

  Trevor and a few of his boys walked into the canteen and stood behind Donny. Just his presence in the room changed the atmosphere. Donny could feel Trevor’s breath on the back of his neck, could almost feel him nudging his mate and smirking before he flicked Donny’s ears and yanked at the hood of his coat, the usual kind of thing. Bethany was also in the queue and when she saw what was going on she turned to face Donny, bent her head forward and whispered at him.

  ‘Why do you let these idiots treat you like this? Do something about it or you’ll always be a victim. Go on, knock his block off and put him on his arse. Whatever. Just do something.’

  Her words pierced Donny’s heart. All the rage that had been bottled up for as long as he could remember came roaring to the surface, bubbling like a volcano, waiting to explode. Everyone was gathered around, but for the first time ever Donny stood tall and answered Trevor back. At first he trembled, stuttered. Maybe he’d not thought this through – but it was too late now, he’d opened his big mouth. He reminded himself that he’d been going to kickboxing for the last two years – and if he couldn’t defend himself now, then when would he ever be able to use what he’d learned? What would have been the point? Trevor stood nose to nose with Donny, his eyes burning into his, unflinching. But Donny held his own.

  ‘Oi, muppet, give us your money,’ Trevor repeated, snarling, but still Donny didn’t reply. He could feel Trevor’s pent-up anger making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He swallowed hard and shot a look at Bethany. She was watching intently, and slowly shook her head at him. He’d let her down, the shame was there for everyone to see. He was a coward just like she’d said. But then the adrenaline kicked in. The large vein at the side of his neck started pumping like a beating heart. Was he really going to do this? You could have heard a pin drop. The colour drained from his face. His mouth was dry, and the words seemed trapped behind his lips. He swallowed hard.

  ‘You’re not getting any money from me so leave me alone,’ he stuttered. The words came out quieter than he’d intended, but in the silence, everybody was listening. Even the geek squad – who never got involved in anything – were hanging on his every word. Had the quiet Donny, who’d never say boo to a goose, really stood up for himself or what?

  Trevor’s eyes were wide with surprise. He laughed out loud. ‘A challenge, eh? This is going to be fun. Did you really just say I’m not getting anything? Think about it, dickhead, before I do something you’ll regret, here, in front of everyone. You’ll be begging me to stop. Hand over the money, wanker, or I’ll flatten you.’

  Everyone’s eyes were on Donny; was he mad? They’d all seen what Trevor could do. He was a total headcase. The light was on, but nobody was in. Donny licked his dry, cracked lips. Small beads of sweat started to form on his forehead. He swallowed again as his fists began to curl into two tight balls, his knuckles turning white. He couldn’t back down now; it was too late.

  Donny watched his opponent carefully as the seconds ticked by. When was the right time to make a move? Should he cast the first blow? In the end it all happened so fast no one was quite sure how Donny did it; his arm flung back and the punch connected with Trevor’s nose. Bright red blood sprayed around the room. But he didn’t stop there. The years of frustration, sadness, humiliation that this prick had caused him were there for everyone to see. He wasn’t going to stop, not now, not ever. Every blow dug deep into Trevor’s flesh; every kick made sure he wouldn’t get back up in a hurry. Donny was in the zone, could hear nothing but his heart thumping, thumping, like the beat of a drum.

  ‘I’m not a coward, I’m not a pissing coward,’ he ranted through gritted teeth. Trevor lay still, his arms shielding his face.

  One of the other students stepped in, called out. ‘He’s had enough, leave him now before you do him in. Donny, I said leave it. You’ve proved your point, let him go.’

  Donny stepped back, almost in a trance, though his legs buckled as he stopped and looked at the eyes staring back at him. There was blood on his hands, his shirt was ripped, but he was alive, still breathing. There was an eerie silence, like someone had turned the volume down, but slowly, slowly, the noise started to get louder and louder. He was back in the moment. Had this really happened? Had he just kicked ten tons of shit out of the school bully? It was Bethany who gripped Donny by the arm of his coat and dragged him away. The teachers were on the prowl and there was no way she wanted him getting his collar felt for this. Trevor got what was coming to him, it was long overdue. Every dog had its day and today it was Donny’s day. He was a gladiator, the hero of the hour. David and Goliath rolled into one.

  It was clearly not what Bethany had expected. She seemed impressed that an average Joe had stood up for himself and chuckled as she twisted her head back to him. ‘Oh my God, you done it. I never knew you had it in you, I’m shocked.’

  Donny didn’t reply. It felt like his windpipe was closing up, like he was going to pass out. He was still white as a sheet and a large salty ball of sweat ran slowly down the side of his forehead. Bethany led him away from the crowds and took him to an empty classroom near the main hall. She sat him down and reached for a box of tissues from the teacher’s desk. Her eyes never left him as she wiped the blood away. When she’d cleaned him up, she passed him a bottle of water out of her school bag. His hands trembled as he took small sips. His breathing was returning to normal and reality was setting in. He dropped his head between his legs trying to get rid of the sickly feeling rooted in the pit of his stomach. Bethany just sat staring at him, with a big soppy grin on her face. She reached over and kissed him on his cheek – seemingly oblivious to the sheen of sweat. She was so confident, knew exactly what she wanted. Donny barely registered what was happening as she slowly moved her warm full lips to his, parted them and went for the full wet, tongue-in-mouth kind of kiss – something teenage-Donny had never experienced before. He’d never had a girlfriend, had only ever seen this kind of kissing on TV. Bethany chuckled, grinned at him as she picked up her red schoolbag and threw it over her shoulder.

  ‘Bye, see you later,’ she said as she left the room.

  Donny was bewildered, not sure what to do next. He shook his head and sighed, then sat there alone gathering his thoughts.

  By the end of the day everybody knew Donny’s name – his street cred had gone through the roof. Suddenly everyone wanted to be his mate, to talk to him, hang out with him – including Bethany. But what mattered most to him was the fact he’d finally found his voice, stood up for himself. Nobody would ever make him feel like that again, ever. Trevor Beats’ mother picked him up, took him home. He never came back – which suited everyone else just fine. Let a new school deal with his crap.

  There was an investigation – of course – but a pretty half-hearted one. The teachers seemed to be as pleased as the kids that Beats was off their books. And besides, no one was saying a word. It was impossible to get to the bottom of what had actually happened, and while they had their suspicions, they let the whole thing drop pretty sharpish.

  Overnight Donny seemed to go from zero to hero and Bethany – never backwards in coming forwards – was at the front of the queue when it came to joining the Donny fan club. He carried on seeing her for a while – who wouldn’t? – at one point he even thought it might be love, but that faded soon enough. She was hard work – always blowing hot and cold. She kept comparing him to her old boyfriends, nagged him to do things he didn’t want to, like drinking and smoking. He ended it a few months later, he’d had enough. Bethany went ballistic when he told her it was over, cried her eyes out tel
ling him she loved him, but she didn’t mean it, he was able to see through her power games by then. She just didn’t want to be the one being dumped.

  It was lucky for Donny that his dad got a new job in Manchester and the whole family had to up sticks and leave Derbyshire behind. That was the last he heard of her or Trevor. He wanted no memories from the days when he was a victim. He was going start afresh, happy to leave his old life behind. Maybe that was why he understood the kids at Second Chance. Everyone deserved to be able to start over.

  Second Chance was modern, had most of what you would expect to see in any mainstream school, with a few things you wouldn’t usually find too. Security was tighter and the kids needed places for time-outs, places to cool off when tempers frayed. Every student there was hard work in their own way, each carrying their own issues. It meant no two days were ever the same and Donny had to have his eye on the ball every second.

  The students were aged between eleven and eighteen, old enough to know better, young enough not to care or to respect their elders. Small wonder they’d been chucked out of their previous schools, with the swearing, fighting, drugs and all the rest.

  Donny pulled up at the main gates, muttering under his breath as he spotted an old bloke stood to the side of the entrance. Whenever Alf was here at this time of the morning it meant trouble; he was here to complain. Donny opened the gates as quickly as he could and jumped back into his car to go and park up.