‘Ahhh, don’t make me laugh. It hurts.’ Sick from the warm taste of blood, he began applying antiseptic cream to his cuts.
James pointed to more blood at the edge of one nostril. ‘You’re lucky they didn’t break your nose. You’ve still got your looks, at least. Are your hands hurt?’
Hero held up his hands and wiggled his fingers. ‘All fine.’
‘I know what’ll make you feel better. Come on.’ He motioned Hero to follow him.
They went downstairs to the sitting room, where James sat down at the piano and started playing ‘The Entertainer’. Every so often, he deliberately played out of key and looked at Hero quizzically.
Hero burst into laughter.
‘Come on, bruv, sit down. Join me.’ James scooted to the left side of the piano bench, still playing. Hero took the upper notes, leaving the lower ones to James. They continued playing the song out of key, a task made more difficult by their hilarity.
‘You see, bruv? Everything will be okay because we can always laugh together. Let’s try something else.’
James began the next song. Hero recognised ‘Nuvole Bianche’ and joined in. The notes travelled between them like a wind, an energy moving backward and forward, binding them together. Hero felt as if their combined souls were riding on the ebb and flow of the music.
As they finished, James slipped an arm around Hero. He responded in kind.
‘I’ll always be there for you, bruv,’ James said solemnly, ‘and you’ll always be there for me.’
The pain and terror of the day ground inside Hero like gears forced to shift without a clutch. Tears welled like oil, a beautiful, warm fluidity that slid up into his throat. The dam inside him broke, and the water tore through the valley of his soul and rushed out though his eyes, burning his face, dripping onto the piano keys. The sheer force of it caused him to shake uncontrollably.
James wrapped his other arm around Hero to complete the embrace. ‘It’s okay, bruv. Everything’s going to be okay.’
Finally, the waters subsided. The birds in the valley were still silent with shock, but Hero knew that they would sing again. Soon.
‘Go upstairs and lie down. I’ll deal with Dad, okay?’
Hero nodded in gratitude and headed for the stairs. What would he do without his brother?
Later that evening there was a knock at the front door. Hero sat down at the top of the stairs, out of sight, as Dad opened it. There was Martin with his father, a man about Dad’s age.
‘I’m sorry to bother you,’ said the man, ‘but I believe your son and mine had a fight earlier this evening, and I wondered if we could talk about it.’
‘Come in,’ Dad replied.
How was he always so calm? James too, for that matter.
Dad led Martin and his father through to the front room. ‘Please, sit down.’
Martin and his father sat, with Dad following suit in the armchair to their left.
‘I prefer Love Island myself.’ Martin’s father grinned as he nodded towards the TV news programme that was summarising the day’s headlines.
Dad switched it off.
Hero scooted into the shadows behind the bannister. Years of experience had taught him he could watch from here without risk of discovery.
Dad raised his eyebrows to signal Martin’s father to proceed.
‘This afternoon, your son James attacked Martin and, well, you can see the results.’
Martin was clearly sporting a broken nose. Hero grinned in the darkness.
‘Really? That doesn’t sound like James.’ Dad got up, went over to the door, and shouted, ‘James, can you come down here please?’
James thumped Hero on the back of the head as he sauntered past him, down the stairs, and into the lounge. ‘Hey, Dad. Ah, Martin, isn’t it? You’ve got some balls showing up here.’
‘Don’t talk like that, James. Out of respect for her.’ Dad nodded apologetically. ‘Martin’s dad tells me you beat up his son earlier this evening.’
‘Well, Dad, before we go any further, I really think you should take a look at this.’ James pulled his phone from his pocket, pressed a button, and held it towards Dad. ‘Et voilà.’
Hero’s stomach tightened as the sounds of the boys bullying him outside school filtered from the tinny phone speakers.
James looked up at Martin and his dad with disgust. ‘“I could shit in your mouth right now”?’ He overenunciated each syllable as if trying to comprehend the true horror of the words.
Dad cleared his throat. ‘Is that really the kind of thing that you teach your son? Does it make you proud that your son behaves like that? It seems to me that James did the right thing in stopping your son from, as he put it, “shitting in Hero’s mouth”.’
Martin sniggered.
His father elbowed him viciously. ‘Shut up. I think kids should work out their own problems, and James shouldn’t just be stepping in on behalf of—Hero, is it? What kind of name is that, anyway?’
‘My son’s name is not your concern.’ Dad crossed to the ornate marble fireplace and slid his finger down the side a black-and-white photo of him and Mum on their wedding day on the mantel. Hero had seen him do this before when he was angry and trying to control himself. ‘But I have three things to say about this. Firstly, I think that as parents, we have a duty to teach our children morality. We have to show them that violence is not an option and bullying is wrong. You can rest assured that I’ll be calling the school tomorrow and explaining the situation to them. They need to protect Hero from your son because, in my opinion, the strong should protect the weak. That’s how things work in our society. Otherwise, it ends up in absolute chaos—a complete breakdown of civilisation.’
He began to pace. ‘Secondly, it wasn’t really Martin against Hero, was it? It was your much older son and his three friends against him. By your ideology, that’s unfair.’ He held out his palm as if to say ‘wait right there.’ Dad always seemed to know instinctively when someone might butt in. He was adept at controlling the conversation like this. ‘And finally, let’s just say for one second that I agree that we should let our children fight. That does beg the question: what are you doing here in my house right now?’
He looked from Martin to his father. ‘I think you two need to leave. Immediately.’
Martin shot up, and his father followed suit.
Hero winced. This is not going to end well—for me.
Martin’s father sneered as they passed in front of Dad. ‘You think you’re so clever, don’t you? One of these days, I’m gonna give you what’s coming to you.’
Dad jerked his head towards him. ‘No, you won’t.’
‘Yes,
