A Puericil Journey

A Puericil Journey 6

[16,636 words]

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This story is intended for adults only. It contains depictions of forced nudity, spanking, and sexual activity of preteen and young teen children for the purpose of punishment. None of the behaviors in this story should be attempted in real life, as that would be harmful and/or illegal. If you are not of legal age in your community to read or view such material, please leave now.

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A PUERICIL JOURNEY - PART SIX

HELEN'S JOURNAL

I hadn't anticipated how nostalgic this would feel. Yet there I was at 6:30 AM, pressing Owen's blazer sleeves with the same ritualistic care I'd once used for his first day at "big" school, a couple of years ago. Thirteen years old, and here we were again: packed lunch: check, pencil case: Check. No need for a PE kit today.

After breakfast Owen and I got in the car. Amy had already left to catch her school bus, so we drove out to pick up Jamie before heading onwards to Sandgrove. I could tell Owen was nervous, but he seemed to perk up when Jamie got in. This is why I went out of my way to help him make new friends.

I agreed to drop the boys off discreetly and to remain in the car as they made their way through the school gates. This was Owen's request, presumably so I wouldn’t embarrass him and I regretfully complied with it even though several other boys of various ages could be seen happily hugging or kissing their mothers goodbye. I wanted to wait at the gate all day to hear how his day had gone, but I had to go to work, so with a final glance in the rearview mirror, I drove off.

OWEN'S JOURNAL

Jamie bounced ahead of me through the school gates like an overexcited puppy, while I dragged my feet, scanning the crowd for signs of abnormality. To my relief, most boys looked pretty normal. No drooling idiots or weirdos about, just regular teens in uniforms, some chatting, some shoving each other, a few glancing our way with mild curiosity. The tightness in my chest eased slightly.

As soon as we were inside a couple of boys pushed rushed past us and a familiar shout came from behind us. "NO RUNNING IN THE CORRIDORS, BOYS!" I'd never heard this particular voice before but I'd heard that exact phrase shouted many times before.

I turned to see a teacher, tall, sandy-haired, early thirties perhaps, pointing at three boys skidding to a halt. "School rules apply outside my classroom too, gentlemen." His voice carried that weird teacher mix of warmth and steel. Spotting us, he smiled. "Ah. would you be Mr Hicks by any chance?"

Mr Hicks? We never got called Mr at my old school, I can tell you!

"Yes sir." I stood straighter in an effort to impress.

"I'm Mr. Paisley. I'll be your form tutor." He shook my hand firmly. "You'll be with me every morning for registration and can come to me for anything you need. You will be with your form group in most classes, so you should be able to get to know them quickly,"

Jamie was pretty excited. "That means you'll be in my form! That's so cool. I knew you wouldn't be in group one with the babies but there are three group two forms. Now we'll get to spend all day together!" Before I could react, his fingers clamped around my wrist like a vice, yanking me forward . "Come on, Owen!" he shouted, already half-dragging me down the corridor. .

"Er, thank you Sir!" I said over my shoulder, but Jamie was already accelerating away with me in tow. Behind us, Mr. Paisley’s sigh carried the weight of a man who’d been dealing with enthusiastic boys for far too long.

"Jamie Coombes, Owen Hicks….walking feet, now!"

Jamie skidded to a halt so abruptly I nearly face-planted into his back. "Sorry, Sir!" I blurted automatically, my voice three octaves higher than intended. Jamie just grinned, unrepentant, and managed to walk slowly but like a tightly coiled spring.

Mr. Paisley pinched the bridge of his nose. "I can see I'm going to have to keep my eye on you two." he muttered, but there was a twitch at the corner of his mouth that might’ve been a smile. "Form room’s down the left, third door.”

"I know where it it, Sir." Muttered Jamie, and off we went, slowly around the corner, before he immediately uncoiled and sped up again.

He clattered into a classroom that looked pretty much like any other school classroom. There was nothing Puericil-y about it, and judging by the maps on the wall it was a Geography room.

"Mr Paisley is one of the nicest teachers. We're lucky to be in his form".

"Good. Are some of the teachers horrible?"

Jamie looked thoughtful. "Well, that depends on what you mean by horrible. Some are stricter than others for sure. I've never seen Mr Paisley spank anyone, but there are a couple of teachers who spank someone almost everyday. You just have to avoid being their latest victim."

"Oh. So you do get spanked here? I was hoping that wasn't true."

"It is true, sorry. Most teachers will only punish you if you do something wrong. And if you get caught, of course. The two I was talking about, Mr Evans and Mrs Crawford, seem to do it for fun. They're always on the lookout for a victim, so watch yourself with them."

"I've never been spanked by a man before." I said, frowning.

"To be honest, most of the lady teachers spank harder than the men. But that doesn't apply to Evans. He's a sadist. So be warned."

"What's a sadist?"

"Well, it means he likes hurting people, I think."

"Ah." All of a sudden the new school didn't seem so inviting.

"Look, don't worry, stick with me and I'll show you how to get out of trouble. Some of the teachers are easy to manipulate."

"Can't I just stay out of trouble in the first place?"

"Well, you can try! But that would be boring, wouldn't it?"

As other boys started to file in and Mr Paisley entered, taking his place at the front, I thought to myself, I'd misjudged Jamie at first. Don't get me wrong, he'd probably still get murdered at my old school, but far from being the goodie two-shoes simpleton I thought I'd met in the ice cream parlour, he definitely has a mischievous streak. I looked around at my new classmates, and I did miss the fact that there weren't any girls. Hopefully I could make some more friends here. Nobody came to talk to me though, they all just sat quietly waiting for registration, but a few were casting me curious glances.

Mr. Paisley cleared his throat and announced that he was going to call the register. The chatter died instantly. There were no mumbled threats, no dramatic sighing—just silence. That was new. At my old school, teachers had to yell over us for the first five minutes of every lesson. He rattled his way through our names. There were only about ten other boys in the class, so it was smaller than I was used to. I was the last name called, and after I replied there was low key chorus of chatter for a moment.

"Right, settle down, gentlemen. First, as you can see, we have a new student joining us today." He glanced at me with a small, encouraging nod. "Owen Hicks, would you like to stand up and tell us a little about yourself?"

Of course not. The entire class swiveled to stare at me as I awkwardly stood up. I had nothing prepared for this. I adjusted my tie which was suddenly strangling me. "Uh. Hi. I’m Owen. I used to go to...."

"Owen’s my friend!" Jamie blurted, bouncing in his seat. "We go to dance together on Thursdays!"

Mr. Paisley didn't even raise his voice. "Jamie Coombes," he said patiently, "we do not interrupt when others are speaking. Would you like to explain why that rule exists?"

Jamie's shoulders hunched immediately, his fingers twisting in his lap. "Er, sorry, Sir," he mumbled, suddenly fascinated by his own shoelaces.

"Because," Mr. Paisley continued, leaning against his desk, "it is disrespectful. And respect is how we..."

Ironically Mr Paisley now found himself interrupted as the classroom door swung open without a knock. A woman in a navy skirt suit stood framed in the doorway, her posture so pencil straight I instinctively straightened my own spine. Her gaze swept the room before landing on me.

"Ah, Mrs Crawford," Mr. Paisley said, stepping aside. "How can I help?"

Mrs Crawford's fingers tapped against a clipboard she carried before she spoke. "I need to borrow Owen Hicks for his entry physical today please." Her voice didn't seem overly friendly.

Mr. Paisley nodded. "Of course. Would first thing this afternoon be OK? I was planning on sending Owen on a tour of the school this morning."

“Yes, that would be fine. I’ll collect him this afternoon.”

Jamie's knee bumped mine under the desk. "That’s the head. Don't argue with her. Just do what she says."

Fortunately, she didn't say anything to me at all, just turned and left as abruptly as she’d arrived. Mr Paisley on the other hand did, letting me know that I would be given a tour my new school so that I’d be able to find my way around.

Jamie practically vibrated with excitement at this. "I'm going to be your tour guide!” he said excitedly, “I think we’ll go to see the music room first!"

Mr. Paisley cleared his throat. "Jamie," he said, and that single word carried layers of meaning - fondness, warning, slight suspicion ; "don't get over excited now. Show Owen the important rooms, don't run or make too much noise, and be back in half an hour. And please remember to knock if you enter any classrooms."

Jamie’s shoulders hunched slightly, but his smile didn’t dim. "Yes, Sir. Straight to the music room, then the library, then the..."

"Right, I'll let you get on with it. See you later boys."

The moment the door clicked shut behind us, Jamie grabbed my wrist with enthusiastic urgency. "Come on," he hissed, tugging me down the corridor at a near-jog before abruptly slowing to a conspicuously casual stroll as we passed the open door of a classroom. His grip loosened as we arrived at our first destination, but he didn't let go entirely.

The music room door creaked as Jamie pushed it open with exaggerated caution. Inside, four boys stood in a loose semicircle, instruments poised, two violins, a cello, and a guitar. They were older than us, maybe sixteen or seventeen, and looked very grown up. Their uniform was different too, as they had long trousers.

The cellist noticed us first. His fingers stilled on the strings as he glanced up at us. I saw that he had a bit of a moustache growing. The others turned to inspect as too, their playing stuttering to a stop. For a second, nobody moved. Then Jamie beamed and waved from the doorway. "This is Owen! He's new!"

The tallest violinist, a lanky boy with a shock of copper hair, lowered his bow and smiled. "Hello, Owen." His voice was softer than I expected, almost melodic. The others murmured their own greetings, their eyes flicking over me with polite curiosity.

"They're group three boys, " Jamie whispered loudly, as if this explained everything.

The boys exchanged glances. The guitar player adjusted the instrument between his knees. "We're practicing the school concert," he said to Jamie, then hesitated before adding, "Would you...would Owen like to hear it?"

"Er, no thanks, Sir. No time. I'm taking Owen on the whole tour!"

With that he dragged me quickly out. "Phew...dodged a bullet there. Imagine being stuck listening to them for ages!"

I laughed. "They sounded good." I said, but actually I had no more interest in hearing them play than he did. "Why did you call him Sir?"

Jamie looked at me like I was a moron. "Because they are group three boys! Silly!"

The library doors swung open with squeak and we entered into a hush so total it felt loud, like the air itself had been trained not to disturb the books. Jamie seemed oblivious to any need to respect this and chatted happily to me as he showed me around. Halfway to the fiction section, he froze mid-step as a voice cut through the silence.

"Volume control, Mister Coombes."

The librarian loomed behind her desk, a mountain of a woman with glasses that magnified her already-piercing gaze. Her tone was warm, but the warning in it was unmistakable. Jamie flushed and mimed zipping his lips at her, a gesture she acknowledged with a nod before returning to her paperwork.

I trailed after Jamie, my shoulders hunched as if that might make me less noticeable. I looked around and saw a fairly standard looking school library. Plenty of books and computers, just maybe a little more colourful than a normal library.

Then I spotted Jayden.

Jamie's fingers tightened around my wrist when I lifted my hand in greeting toward Jayden. "No, don't!" he hissed under his breath, but it was too late. Jayden had already looked up from the stack of books he was re-shelving, his face breaking into a wide, guileless smile that made Jamie groan beside me.

"Good afternoon, sirs!" Jayden called across the library, loud enough that the librarian's head snapped up. He hurried toward us, bringing his pile of books with him. When he reached us, he executed a stiff little bow that caused him to drop one of the them. "Welcome to the Sandgrove Library Resource Center, sirs. May I assist you with any literary needs today?"

Jamie rolled his eyes so hard I worried they might stick. "Cut it out, Jayden. You're not actually a librarian."

Jayden's smile faltered for just a second before he squared his shoulders. "I'll have you know, Sir, that Head Librarian Brooks personally selected me for the Junior Library Helper program." He pointed to a laminated badge pinned crookedly to his blazer which included a photo of a beaming Jayden. "See? Official volunteer. That means I get to use the stamp."

I watched fascinated as Jayden's entire demeanour shifted when the librarian cleared her throat behind us. He spun on his heel, posture snapping straight. "Apologies for the disruption, Miss" he announced to the ceiling. "I was just welcoming the new boy!"

Jamie huffed under his breath and grabbed my hand. "Come on, that's enough books."

"Bye Jayden". I waved. He smiled and waved back, dropping the same book a second time.

As we left him bending down to pick up the book yet again, I asked Jamie "Did Jayden say the librarian was called Books?"

"Brooks, you berk! Mrs Brooks."

"Ah. Shame. And did Jayden call us Sir?"

"Yes. He's group one and we're group two, stupid!"

"Alright, alright. Where next?"

***

We headed next to the dormitories where boys sleep on weekdays when their parents live too far away to pick them up everyday. Jamie dragged me toward the last door on the left. "This is where the Group Two boys sleep during term," he announced, throwing it open with dramatic flair.

Rows of narrow beds lined the room, each with a pastel coloured blanket folded military-tight at the foot. Above them, I saw that shelves held an assortment of stuffed animals, action figures, Lego and stuff. It looked nicer and more homely than I was expecting.

Jamie bounded toward a bed near the window. "This one's mine when I need to stay here if Mummy is on a trip away. You can have this one!" His hand hovered over the adjacent mattress when a voice cracked like a whip behind us.

"Oi! Don't touch my stuff, Coombes."

A boy appeared in the doorway and marched towards us.. "Coombes, I swear to God, if you mess with my things again..."

"Relax, Collins," Jamie said, rolling his eyes and stepping back from the bed. "I was pointing to Finn Dawson's old bunk. It's empty now that he's got promoted to Group Three. So my friend Owen can have it. I wasn't touching your precious toy cars."

Collins, a wiry boy with a buzzcut and a scowl that looked permanently etched into his face, blushed slightly at that, but nevertheless stalked forward, jabbing a finger at Jamie. "Dawson's bunk is there," he snapped, pointing to the opposite side of the room where I saw a perfectly made bed with its pale blue blanket and conspicuously bare shelf. "This is mine. And you know that perfectly well, Coombes, because you messed with my stuff last term."

Jamie's cheeks pinked, but he lifted his chin. "Well, what difference does it make? You're hardly ever here, why don't you have Dawsons one?""

I realised with embarrassment that Jamie was in fact trying to give me someone else’s bed.

"It's my bed, my stuff. leave it! " Collins snapped.

I found it a bit jarring that this kid was acting all tough while protecting his line of toy cars and Pokemon plushies. You could hardly blame him for being annoyed though. I had to admire the cheek of Jamie.

"As if you have any friends, Coombes." Said Collins, jabbing a finger at Jamie.

"I do! Shut up Collins!”

"Jamie is my friend" I said calmly, "but I'm not going to take your bed. It was just a mix up."

"Mix-up my arse. Your friend is weird."

"Don't be a dick. Come on Jamie, let's leave him to it." I said, making my way to the door,

"Yeah piss off girls." Collins sneered.

There may have been a few more insults hurled immaturely about before we made it out, dignity and face reasonably intact.

Jamie's fingers dug into my wrist as we rounded the corner. "That was brilliant," he whispered, eyes shining. "We showed that dickhead! Nobody ever sticks up for me with Collins. He's such a prick."

The intensity in his voice startled me.

"I didn't do much," I muttered, fixing my hair after a noticing my reflection in a window. "I just told him to sod off, really."

"And you said I was your friend. That shut him up."

It hadn't shut him up at all of course, but that didn't matter to either of us. A warm, squirmy feeling spread through my chest. I hadn't realized how much that simple word meant or how long Jamie might have waited to hear it from someone like me.

***

On went the tour and next it was off to the drama studio. Not a favourite haunt of mine at my old school, but I wanted to keep an open mind. Despite Mr Paisely’s instructions, Jamie pushed the door open without knocking.

A dozen boys crouched, crawled, hopped and slithered across the floor in nothing but their underwear, apparently pretending to be animals and making noises that ranged from vaguely recognizable (a boy barking like a dog) to utterly baffling . One boy was hopping about like a bunny or a kangaroo or something. At the front, a wiry man with round glasses clapped his hands. "Excellent elephant impression, Timothy! But remember, elephants can be graceful!"

The teacher, who I later learned was called Mr Carlisle, spotted us immediately. His face split into a friendly grin. "Jamie Coombes! Have you come to join our menagerie?"

Jamie shook his head vigorously. "No, Sir! Just showing Owen around." He jerked his thumb at me. "He’s new."

A few of the animals stopped to stare at me curiously. Mr Carlisle’s own gaze landed on me like a spotlight. "Ah! Our fresh little fledgling!" He swept forward and gripped my shoulder. "Welcome to the world of dramatic arts, Owen. Care to participate? We’re exploring movement today."

"Er, I don't think there's time, thank you Sir."

"No there isn't." Jamie agreed. "We're off to the pool next!"

And off we went, back the way we came before taking a new fork.

“Are elephants graceful?” I asked.

“Compared to that, yes.”

As we walked I thought about what I’d just witnessed. I’m not fan of Shakespeare, but whatever that was supposed to be in there was possibly the first time I’d seen the sort of thing normal boys make fun or Puericil boys for. It looked more like a lesson for toddlers.

I switched to thinking about where we were heading. I was pretty impressed that the school had it's own pool. My old one didn't. I told Jamie as much as he led down one corridor after another until I picked up the scent of chlorine ahead.

"Wait till you see it," he said, pushing open the heavy doors, "It's Olympic sized! Well, probably."

"Hold up!" A girl's voice cut through Jamie’s enthusiasm as she rushed over to block our path. She stood in the doorway, arms crossed, her dark ponytail swinging as she shook her head. "No entry, boys. We've got Group One in the water right now."

Jamie groaned, "Come on, Naomi, please! I just want to show the new boy the pool for a moment!"

Naomi didn't budge. Behind her, another girl—taller, with freckles dusting her nose—emerged from the misty air of the pool area. "Rules are rules," she said, apologetically.. "No unsupervised boys in the pool area. And we're right in the middle of a lesson so can't help."

I craned my neck, catching a glimpse past them. I saw pale limbs flashing in turquoise water and heard the shrieks of younger boys bouncing off the tiled walls. A dozen small bodies bobbed in the shallow end, completely naked, their wet skin glistening under the overhead lights. Most of them were clearly younger than us but oddly, I noticed a couple of much bigger boys with them.

Jamie retreated and let the door swing closed behind us in a huff.

"Do the young ones swim naked?" I asked hoping it was just the young ones.

"Yes. And so do we, I'm afraid. Only group three get swim shorts."

"Great."

"Don't worry about it, everyone else is naked too, so you soon forget."

"Not everyone. Those girls..."

"Oh them. Naomi is OK normally, she was probably just showing off. Anyway, what can I say? You do get used to it."

I didn't want to get used to it. But on we went, this time to the lunch hall, and for once, not just to observe.

“What were those big boys doing with them? Helping?”

“Nuh-huh. They are Group One’s as well. They were probably older and bigger when they went on Puericil but have been assessed as lower maturity.”

“God, imagine that. They must get the piss taken out of them constantly?”

“Not really. Everyone knows how it works here. They are Group Ones just like the smaller boys, so you leave them be. I’m not saying we don’t have some bullies here, but no one would pick on a Group below them in case they end up being demoted.”

We walked on silently as I digested all this, and arrived at the lunch hall.

"We may as well end the tour here." Jamie announced. "It's lunch time and I don't want to miss sticky toffee pudding." He led me to where you got trays and joined the line. "We didn't see everything but I showed you the interesting bits. You'll see the boring classrooms soon enough!"

**

We got our food and sat down. Disappointingly, it was no better than the awful food at my old school although Jamie promised me that the deserts were awesome. As we settled down at our own table, I noticed a group of older boys at another. It was nothing unusual to me for there to be older boys in the lunch hall of course, but here they seemed out of place, noticeably bigger and older than us and their different uniform also made them seem more grown up. In truth, these lads would probably be well down the pecking order at my old school, but here I found them intimidating.

"If those boys are not on Puericil anymore," I asked Jamie, "doesn't that mean they might...you know, misbehave? Or hassle us?"

"Well, they are still on it, just a much lower dose as they are weened off. As to your question, well, the official line is that they receive such a wonderful education here and have benefited from years on Puericil to the point where they are now just perfect gentlemen." He paused for a drink of juice and, I suspect, for dramatic effect. "In reality, yes, sometimes they start acting like big shots and pushing their weight around. But don't worry too much, For the most part they won't step far out of line as they still get punished."

"Oh?"

"Oh yes. They are allowed far more privileges than us and are not treated like babies like we are, but they still get disciplined."

"I can't imagine that, looking at them." To my eyes they looked like grown men, almost.

"The little ones, the Group Ones, they get spanked all the time. But just hand spanks, and usually no more that 10 if that. We get spanked, well, to be honest almost as often if you're not careful. Still mainly hand spanks, but also the paddle if we are very naughty. The bigger boys, well, they rarely get punished but if they do, they sometimes get the cane. And that puts most of them off causing trouble, usually."

"Oh. I didn't know they still did that."

"They don't for anyone else. Just us Puercil boys get spanked, caned and whatnot because the Puericil is so bloody good at making us better behaved they need to whack the crap out of us as well!"

"Everything OK boys?" asked a passing female teacher I hadn't yet met. Jamie jumped and nervously assured her that we were fine. After she'd patrolled a safe distance Jamie continued.

"And another thing...those little Group One brats get away with murder. Don't get me wrong, if you got sent here when you are ten or eleven, or even younger, it must be awful at first. But take Jayden. He's been in group one for seven years! The worse he ever gets is a half-speed spanking followed by a cuddle and he can do what he likes!"

"Speak of the devil." I said, having spotted Jayden nervously approaching our table.

"Can I sit with you Sir?" he asked me directly, ignoring Jamie.

Jamie groaned audibly but I said yes before he could say no. I must admit, seeing Jayden in the context of a busy lunch hall, he did look far too young to be sitting with us and for the first time I could see why Jamie didn't want him hanging around with us. He was obviously proud to be seen with "the new boy" and Jayden was spoiling this. I realised he was possibly also damaging my own chances of a good first impression with my own group. I even detected a few sniggers at Jayden sitting with us. But I'd taken a taken a liking to Jayden, even if part of that was feeling sorry for him, and wasn't going to be mean to him in public now. I reminded myself that he was actually older than me, after all.

Jayden put down his his tray carefully, his fingers tapping against the plastic. "Are you having a nice first day, Owen? Oh, and what group will you be in?"

Jamie snorted into his juice before I could answer. "He's in Group Two, obviously." He shot Jayden a withering look. "He's not a baby like you."

I ignored him, focusing on Jayden’s hopeful expression. "It’s been pretty good so far, I guess.”

Jayden brightened instantly. "I saw you in the library."

"Yes, we spoke to you." I said over another theatrical sigh from Jamie.

"Oh. Yes of course. Silly me, sorry, Sir, I've been busy helping catalogue books."

"You don't have to keep calling me sir, you know."

"Yes he does." Jamie said, "It's the rules."

"Well, only in class time, and technically this is lunchtime." Jayden replied, but without any hint of being "smart" about it.

"It is.” I agreed, “ There you go then."

"Alright," Jamie warned, "have it your way Owen, but don't get any ideas about not calling the seniors Sir, lunchtime or not.”

"I'll bear that in mind! Now chill out, let's enjoy lunch."

"I was doing."

"Maybe I can get a book for you Owen?" Jayden asked.

"What about me?" Interrupted Jamie.

"Not unless you stop being mean to me!"

I laughed, which Jamie didn't appreciate, before answering Jayden. "Um, maybe. I don't read many books. Do they have any comics?"

Jamie groaned, "Oh god, maybe you should be in group one as well."

I just laughed again, taking the jibe in good spirits. I was happy to admit to not being the smartest kid at school, but I'm not dumb either. “What? I like comics.”

"Actually yes,” said Jayden, “They are not deposited in the library but we get a couple every week that you can read before they get recycled."

"Recycled? What a waste."

"It's not up to me sorry, school policy. Are you interested in Fungi, Owen?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Jamie burst our laughing. “Aaahhh hahaha! Of course he isn’t interested in Fungus, he’s normal not a weirdo like you!”

“Fungi. Fungus is the singular.”

“Whatever.”

“Um, no, “ I admitted, “I’m not really, sorry.”

“That’s a shame. I found some Hazel Glove in the woods not far from here.”

“Is that good?”

“Well, yes, it’s quite rare.”

Jamie nudged me. “Can we talk about something normal please?”

I had to admit I couldn’t see the mushroom chat going anywhere. I felt a bit bad changing the subject, but I wanted to ask Jamie something that had been on my mind since we saw the dorms.

“I saw some nappies in the dorm. Do any boys in our group wear them?”

“Yes. One poor sod seems to have to wear them every night. But mostly they are there for boys that need them just for a bit, like you.”

I saw a flicker of embarrassment in Jamie’s eyes as he realised he’d let slip my secret to Jayden who suddenly perked up.

“Nobody in my dorm wears nappies.” He said proudly.

“That’s because the majority of you lot all went on Puericil before you had any pubes.” Said Jamie. I sensed he was leaping to my defence in his own way, but this was making the situation even cringier; “sometimes when you go on Puericil it makes you, you know, every know and again. It’s not because Owen’s not potty trained, it’s because of….the science.”

Now it was Jayden’s turn to burst into high pitched giggles. “Because of the science?” he laughed, “you have no idea what you’re talking about, do you?”

“Well neither do you! Stop boasting about how grown up you are when you can’t even get a stiffy!”

I nudged Jamie and discreetly reminded him that, officially at least, neither could he!

At that point the bell went to signal the end of lunch. It seems we had been a little slow getting there following the detour to the swimming pool, and had missed part of it. Jamie was beside himself with the injustice of missing out on pudding, but his complaints were in vain as Mrs Crawford announced to the hall that it was nap time for groups one and two.

"What's nap time?" I asked, "like we get to chill out for a bit?"

Jayden blinked at me for a moment. "It means nap time," he said slowly, as if explaining basic concepts to a toddler. "Like...sleeping. After lunch."

I snorted. "Yeah, right. We don't need a nap. Do we just wait here or something?"

"You three!" Mrs. Crawford's voice sliced through the lunch hall chatter. Her clipboard tapped against her thigh as she scanned the room. "Hurry up now, boys. You know the routine."

Jamie was already sliding off the bench, his juice box abandoned. He nudged my arm. "Come on. You don't want her counting to three."

My legs stayed rooted to the floor. "What? No way. I'm thirteen, not three!"

"Come on, Owen, you don't want a spanking" warned Jayden, "in any case, you will need a nap soon enough. There's stuff in the juice that makes you sleepy"

"What? They can't drug us without asking!" I was furious.

"No they don't do that. They drug us after our Mums have signed a form telling them they can" yawned Jamie.

I followed my two new friends down the corridor after Mrs Crawford and the others, hands in my pockets and still fuming but saying nothing.

At one point, Jayden said goodbye and disappeared into a room with the group one boys. I slowed, catching a glimpse inside of boys in pyjamas patterned with trains and dinosaurs, their hands clutching bottles of milk as they clambered into cribs that looked absurdly large when empty yet somehow perfectly normal when filled with a drowsy boy. A caregiver—a girl who appeared to be another one of those sixth form helpers—lifted a small boy who couldn't manage it himself into one of the wooden cages, humming as she tucked a blanket over him. His thumb drifted to his mouth automatically, eyes already fluttering shut. There was nursery rhyme music playing quietly and I suddenly felt like I’d walked into a surreal nightmare.

Jamie noticed me staring and sighed. "You get used to it," he muttered, nudging me forward. "Group Two's better. We have proper beds. You know, the problem with Jayden is they told him he doesn’t need a mentor. Most of the Group Ones have a Group Two boy to look after them out of class. Jayden doesn’t so he thinks he’s clever. But he’s still in Group One. Still!”

“Do you mentor anyone then?”

“No. I did volunteer but they said no.”

“Oh, why?”

“They said I was too immature.”

“You make me laugh, Jamie.”

“Oh, I do, do I?”

I stiffed a giggle as Mrs. Crawford herded us into our own dormitory, where the older boys, or perhaps I should say more physically mature boys, were already changing into soft cotton pyjamas, onesies and the like. No cribs here just rows of normal beds as Jamie promised, and no baby bottles either, but I did notice a boy with freckles and tousled hair sat cross-legged on his mattress, drinking out of a sippy cup. He wore a pyjama top but below that, just a nappy.

My concern turned to a feeling of dread that I, too would be singled out as a nappy wearer, but to my surprise that didn't happen. Perhaps Mum had forgot to mention my problem. Perhaps, she didn't know we'd be put to bed in the middle of the day like toddlers. Now all I had to do was make sure I stayed awake so I could be sure there were no accidents. I mean, I probably should have warned Mrs Crawford, but would you have done that?

I was snapped out of my thoughts by the sight of that boy Collins’s discarded shirt hitting Jamie square in the face with a soft thwap before sliding to the floor. "Get to the losers side of the room, Coombes" he sneered. Jamie's shoulders hunched for a moment, then he kicked the shirt along the ground back towards Collins.

I stepped between them instinctively. I've never liked bullying and standing up for myself and others was one of the most common ways I got into trouble at my old school. Which shows you how little schools regard decent values. "What's your problem?" I said in a semi-whisper to avoid attracting adult attention; "Stop being a dick."

Collins's head tilted slowly, like a dog catching an unfamiliar scent. He was taller than me by half a head, his shoulders filling out his uniform in a way that made me wonder why he wasn't in Group Three. "You volunteering to take his place, noob?" He rolled the words around his mouth like something sour.

The room's chatter died abruptly. Jamie moved closer behind me, his fingers brushing my elbow in a silent plea to drop it. Instead, I squared my stance, waiting for him to make a move.

"Mr. Collins!" Mrs. Crawford's voice sliced through the tension. She stood framed in the doorway, a wooden paddle tapping against her thigh in a slow, rhythmic threat. "Would you care to explain why you're not in your assigned nap time position? And you Mr Hicks? I shouldn't think you want the paddle on your first day? I hope we have not welcomed a trouble maker to our school community?"

"No Miss. Sorry Miss."

"Glad to hear it. Off you both go to your beds at once." With that, she turned out the lights, so that distant glow from the dim reading lamp on the supervisors desk was now the only light in a dark room. At least I could take advantage of the low light to change quickly into the pyjamas I had been given for my nap. They were themed to the Cars movies, but that was the least of my problems. More pressing was the fact that this pair was two sizes too small, and the arms and legs only covered about two thirds of what they were supposed to, the top rode up if I lifted my arms, and the pants were extremely tight.

"Owen!" Came a half whisper, half shout from Jamie in the darkness. "Get in bed with me!”

"No thanks." I said, feeling the need to keep up appearances as worthy of respect among the boys.

"Don't worry, lots of boys share," he replied, before dropping his whisper even lower, "some are scared of the dark. I don’t mind. I just want to talk to you."

I sighed to myself. The room was dark, warm and I suddenly realised I was really tired, and really needed a break from the emotional rollercoaster of the day, so I just did as he asked and got into his bed. I did ensure I kept a clear distance away from him though, which given that it was a single bed, wasn't easy .

"Where are you?" He asked.

"Here."

"Owen, thank you for sticking up for me again…."

I felt pride rise in me as I waited to hear the rest of his declaration of admiration for me.

"But...."

There's a but? I wasn't expecting a but.

"But you don't have to keep doing that. I mean I don't want you to think of me as someone who needs looking after?"

"Eh? I don't."

"Yes you do. I can look after myself. I want to be your friend not someone you look after. I'm not pathetic, or a pushover, or...whatever else you think of me."

Not this again. Some of what he said did strike a nerve though. I didn't think of him as pathetic of course, but I guess I did somehow think I was above him in the pecking order. I needed to snap out of doing that. But I really had just wanted to help. Maybe it was because of the sleepy drugs, or the stress of the day, but between feeling a bit rejected by Jamie's response to my knight in shining armour act and his calling me out on my feeling of superiority, I got overwhelmed. Instead of trying to explain to Jamie, I just started to cry, although I did my absolute best to do so silently.

Jamie scooted towards me and put his arm around me. I think I managed to say sorry - just the single word - while concentrating on trying to stop crying.

"There's no need to be upset. You're forgiven. I still think you are cool."

A flash of anger suddenly gave me the energy to speak with feeling, albeit anger with myself not him; "I'm not cool. I'm an idiot. Who messes up all the time."

"You're a cool idiot."

"That's why I'm here. I messed up at my old school and I'm an idiot."

"We're both here. And we'll both be OK."

I was too busy feeling sorry for myself to listen, but soon after I fell asleep.

***

I woke up a bit disorientated. Everybody else seemed to still be asleep and I was barely awake myself. My first thought was to check my crotch. Dry! Relief flooded through me before I registered something poking into my lower back.

"Jamie," I hissed, shoving backward with my elbow, "that better not be what I think it is."

Jamie giggled, breath warm against my neck. "You're the one who climbed into my bed."

"You practically insisted!"

Jamie shifted beside me, his knee bumping the back of mine under the thin blanket. "Hey," he whispered, breath tickling my ear, "you fancy...you know. Playing with them? I know you do it." His fingers brushed against my hipbone suggestively.

I stiffened. "Are you mental? Mrs. Crawford's desk is right there." The dim glow from her reading lamp outlined her silhouette. She was leaned forward like she was grading papers or something, but one wrong noise and we'd be caught.

Jamie sighed, rolling onto his back. The bed creaked ominously. "Ricky does it all the time. He says the risk makes it better."

I laughed "Yeah, well Ricky's an idiot then." I scratched the bridge of my nose. "You want her to paddle us in front of everyone? Because I reckon that’s how you get paddled in front of everyone. Anyway, I need a wee."

Jamie was quiet for a long moment. Outside, a bird trilled and it was hard to remember what time of day it was. "Fine, we won't then" he muttered finally. "But only ‘cause you’re right about Crawford." His fingers drummed an impatient rhythm on the mattress between us. "Get out then."

"Why?"

"I need to see if this will go away otherwise I'll have to do something about it before we get up."

A warning "Shhh!" came from the supervisors desk.

I reluctantly got up, intending to shuffle over to my own bed, only to find some other boy fast asleep in it. Confused, I found myself standing in the middle of the dark room for a few seconds looking about. Having attracted the attention of Mrs Crawford, I figured I would have to come up with a plan B. And I had a convenient idea.

I shuffled towards the teacher's desk.

"I need the toilet," I mumbled sheepishly. Mrs. Crawford's head lifted from her paperwork, the desk lamp casting shadows under her eyes. Her finger hovered over a small panel on her desk before pressing a button with a decisive click. A soft chime echoed somewhere down the hall.

"Wait there, Owen." She pointed to a spot by her desk without looking up again. The silence stretched, broken only by the rhythmic breathing of sleeping boys and the occasional rustle of sheets. I wondered if the rustle came from Jamie’s bed and what he was up to. My bladder twinged impatiently.

Footsteps approached and the door was opened carefully. The girl from the swimming pool appeared in silhouette from the light in the corridor. "Yes, Mrs Crawford?"

Mrs. Crawford finally glanced up. "Please take this boy to the toilet."

Naomi's gaze landed on me. She looked at me for a moment as she took in my rumpled cars pyjamas and sleepy face. "Right then," she sighed, jerking her chin toward the door. "Come on, Owen."

Her hand hovered near my shoulder, not quite touching, as she guided me across the hallway. The tiles were cold under my bare feet. This is great. A girl here, albeit a supervisor, that seemed quite cool and now this is happening. I may as well give up trying to have any street cred with her. The bathroom door creaked open to reveal a row of stalls. There were no urinals, just four cubicles with the doors removed entirely. I blinked at them. "Where are the doors?"

"No doors. We don't want anyone getting locked in, and you are supervised at all times here."

I hovered in the doorway, before shrugging and going forward to pee. It was no different I guessed to using a urinal with another person next to you, I thought. If anything I have more privacy this way.

"Owen, boys at Sandgrove sit to pee.” Naomi said, as she leaned against the sink counter, arms crossed. "Less mess. Fewer accidents."

"But I can stand!" I protested. I must have sounded like a toddler, but I was being treated like one, to be fair.

"That makes no difference. We can't have you peeing on the seat, or the floor. Sit."

I reluctantly did so Aware that she was leaning against a basin directly opposite the doorway, I was careful to make sure I only pulled my pyjama pants down as far as I had to. They didn't come further than half way down my thighs, if that. This felt very awkward indeed, but I at least felt confident that Naomi wouldn't be able to see anything.

But she cleared her throat, the sound sharp in the tiled bathroom. "You're going to pee in your pyjamas if you're not careful." She shook her head, lips pursed. "See? This is why we supervise you. Boys can't be trusted even to pee without help."

I felt cross. I'd have been perfectly capable of peeing without interference but she was making it harder and harder.

"Take them all the way off," she said, nodding at my pyjama bottoms. "And hand them here."

I didn't move.

"Owen." her voice lowered, the warning in it’s tone pretty clear.

My fingers curled into the elastic waistband, frozen. Naomi’s sigh carried the weight of a hundred previous identical standoffs. "Now, Owen."

Once again I had reached, too quickly, the point where I realised I had no way out other than to get it over with. The fabric slid down my legs in slow motion, pooling around my ankles like a surrender flag. I stepped free sadly, holding the pyjama pants in front of me for privacy.

"Bring them here."

Four steps across freezing tiles. My arms instinctively crossed over my privates as I handed them over. That’s a joke - privates! Naomi folded my pyjamas neatly over one arm. "OK, back to the toilet."

I made my way back more quickly as I had nothing to cover my butt with as I walked away from her. I reluctantly sat on the toilet. I did really need to pee after all!

"Knees apart," Naomi ordered, tapping her own thighs demonstratively. "Wide apart."

I clenched my teeth but spread my knees slightly.

"Wider, Owen." Her voice carried that practiced patience people in authority use when they know you'll obey eventually. "This isn't negotiable."

My elbows dug into my thighs as I forced my knees apart further, the chill of the porcelain seeping through the backs of my legs. The position felt unnatural and I was fully exposed. I stared fixedly at the tiles between my feet, willing my body to cooperate. Nothing happened.

"Relax," she said, still leaning against the basin."Nothing will happen if you tense up."

Finally the first trickle came, a sharp relief for two different reasons that made my shoulders drop. Then the floodgates opened, my bladder emptying in a steady stream. Mid-flow, I glanced up—and froze. Naomi wasn't looking at the wall or her phone like a decent person would. Her gaze was locked right there, watching the arc of my piss with clinical interest. Worse, she noticed me noticing. Her eyes snapped up to mine, trapping me in mortifying eye contact just as the last few spurts pattered into the bowl.

"Good boy," she said, lips quirking at my scarlet cheeks. The unwanted praise choked me.

I clenched my thighs together the second I finished, but Naomi clicked her tongue. "Stay put." She pushed off the sink and grabbed a wad of toilet paper, folding it precisely. "Don't forget to wipe. Like this." She demonstrated on her other hand before handing me the crumpled paper.

"I know how to wipe..." I tutted

"Then do it properly or I'll do it for you."

Actually, to honest I usually didn't bother to wipe at all after a pee, but now I obviously had to pretend that I did. I gave it a couple of dabs. For some reason, she continued to stand close by, and started to brush my hair our of my eyes with her hand.

"That wasn't so hard was it?"

"No Miss, Can I go now?"

"Of course. You can't sit around there all day!"

"Can I have my PJs back please?"

"Oh yes, sorry, here you go. Although by the time we get back I imagine it will be time to get dressed again."

And sure enough we returned to the dorm to find the blinds opened and ten or so boys mid way though dressing for the rest of the day.

***

As for the rest of the day, it was pretty uneventful after the morning. I had two regular lessons. In English, Mrs. Henshaw droned on about metaphors and similes and every time she paused to ask a question everyone looked at their desks until she gave up waiting for someone else and let a boy called Anwar answer. I already knew what a metaphor is. As for similes, I've already forgotten what they are.

"Owen," she said suddenly, her finger pointing at me as I jumped slightly, "Give me an example of personification."

I blinked. "Uh...the wind whispered through the trees?"

"Yes, basic, but acceptable."

A bit like me, I thought. I drifted off into day dreams for the rest of the lesson. Having been picked on once, you are usually safe for a while, especially if you gave the right answer. After that we had maths. I had to do a test so the teacher could see what level I was at. I dread to think what my score will be. Maths isn't my strong point and I wasn't expecting the test. It's a bit mean to make you do a surprise test when it's almost home time! I was half asleep.

Mrs Crawford popped in during the lesson to apologize to me that we hadn’t had time for my physical, for which I just felt like I’d got lucky for once, though no doubt it will come back to haunt me tomorrow.

***

Not long after, I slumped into the backseat of Mrs Coombe's car, still half-dazed from the nap-time drugs, although Jamie seemed as full of energy as ever beside me.

"So, Owen," Mrs. Coombes began, adjusting the rear view mirror to catch my eye, "how was your first day?" I didn’t get a chance to answer before you know who did.

"It was brilliant!" Jamie shouted as he launched forward against his seat belt. "I gave Owen a tour of the school! And we missed pudding because we were late, but...""

"Jamie!" Mrs. Coombes' voice sliced through his chatter. "Let Owen answer please."

Jamie's mouth snapped shut with an audible click of teeth.

"It was...okay," I mumbled, pressing my forehead against the cool window glass. "It was a bit strange."

Mrs. Coombes hummed in agreement, her hands steady on the wheel. "First days are always tiring. All those new rules, new faces..." She flicked a glance at me in the mirror. "You'll settle in."

Jamie wriggled beside me, unable to contain himself any longer. "Owen slept in my bed!" The words exploded out of him. I blushed and turned to look out of the window again.

Mrs. Coombes chuckled, "That's sweet." She turned onto their street, the car wheels crunching over gravel. "Nightmares?"

"No! Jamie asked me to."

Jamie leaned forward again, "It was more fun that way," I caught Mrs. Coombes watching us in the rear view mirror with that look adults get when they think kids are being cute.

"Jamie's right," Mrs. Coombes said, "I'm glad he's looking after you."

I blinked. I don't need looking after. Jamie was already unbuckling and halfway out the door, dragging me with him by the sleeve.

"Let's go in the garden!" he announced.

Mrs. Coombes didn't stop us. Just called after us to "be careful" in that tone that meant she was pleased we would be out of her hair. So we headed to that huge garden of his, Jamie sprinting ahead like a dog let off the leash.

The trampoline springs groaned under our weight as Jamie bounced higher than seemed physically possible while I gripped the safety net with both hands, knees wobbling from the unstable surface.

"Come on!" Jamie crowed, executing a sloppy seat drop that sent shock waves through the mat. Now my teeth clacked together. "Stop being a wuss!"

I’d just let go just as he bounced again, our heads nearly colliding mid-air.

"Right, lie down!" I shoved Jamie's shoulder mid-bounce, sending him sprawling onto the trampoline mat. He yelped, but before he could scramble up, I launched into a series of rapid jumps around him. The springs shrieked protest as Jamie's limbs flailed uselessly, his body catapulting upward with each of my landings.

"Stop…stop!" Jamie gasped between laughter, arms windmilling as he was flung higher. His socked feet kicked wildly before he crashed back down, bouncing twice before managing to clutch the safety net.

I collapsed beside him, wheezing with laughter. Jamie wiped tears from his eyes, cheeks flushed pink. "I wasn’t ready," he giggled, shoving me weakly.

A flicker of movement then caught Jamie's eye. He stiffened, pointing over my shoulder. "Look! Mrs. Pickles is murdering something again."

"Mrs. Pickles?" I giggled. "Is that your neighbour?"

"It's my neighbour's fat cat!"

Next door's fat tabby clung precariously to an oak branch, tail lashing as she eyed a little bird. The bird fluttered just out of reach while Mrs. Pickles inched forward, claws sinking into bark. Then…disaster. The branch dipped violently under her weight. The cat froze, belly pressed against the wood as it bounced slightly.

"I think she's stuck," Jamie breathed, his fingers tightening around the trampoline netting as we watched Mrs. Pickles wobble mid-branch. The cat's tail lashed violently, sending leaves fluttering to the ground below.

I scrambled to my knees, pressing my face against the safety net for a better view. "That branch is too thin. Look how it's bending." The wood dipped another inch under the cat's weight with an ominous creak.

Jamie twisted toward me, eyes wide. "We should help her!"

I had a flash of inspiration and vaulted off the trampoline. "I'll climb up and pass her down to you." Jamie agreed and sprinted after me as I made for the oak's gnarled trunk.

I had a quick look up at the tree to work out a path and began to climb. The bark scraped my palms as I hoisted myself onto the lowest branch. Jamie danced below, arms outstretched. "Hurry!" he whisper-shouted.

"I'm doing my best!"

My fingers sank into Mrs. Pickles’ scruff just as the branch gave a final, splintering crack. The cat yowled, claws raking my forearm as I hauled her against my chest. "Got you," I hissed through gritted teeth, but now the real problem hit me—it was a long way down between me and the lawn, and I had a panicked feline digging into my skin like a furry grappling hook.

"Just drop her!" Jamie yelled, bouncing below with outstretched arms, "I'll catch her!"

"She'll scratch my face off!" I inched backward along the thicker branch toward the trunk, Mrs. Pickles vibrating with outrage against my ribs. The descent was a series of jerky maneuvers—elbow hooked over a limb, toes searching for purchase, cat shifting from whining to full-throttle wails. Finally, dangling one-handed with Mrs. Pickles clutched like a football, I stretched toward Jamie. "Take her, quick!"

Jamie's fingers brushed fur just as the cat twisted. She landed on all fours, shot across the lawn like a striped missile, and vanished under the hedge.

I let go, hitting the ground on my feet before toppling sideways into the grass. Jamie's laughter rang out above me. "That was brilliant!" He grabbed my wrist to haul me up, but I saw his expression turn quickly to one of annoyance.

Jamie’s grip on my wrist tightened as he pointed toward the garden gate. "What's she doing here now?"

Louisa Martin strolled up the driveway, sunlight catching the silver clips in her hair. She moved like she owned the place—hands in her pockets, one strap of her school bag slipping off her shoulder. Jamie’s nose wrinkled. "What’re you doing here?"

"Visiting your Mum," Louisa said, shrugging the bag strap back into place. Her eyes flicked to me, and her mouth curved. "Though I did wonder if Owen would be here." She tilted her head, inspecting me like I was a museum exhibit. "Honestly, I barely recognized you with your clothes on."

Heat flooded my face. Jamie snorted, "well he is here, and now you've seen him you can get lost!"

"Don't show off in front of your friend, Jamie.” She turned to me again. “I saw you rescue the cat. That was impressive Owen."

I blushed again.

"But I'm not sure you should be climbing trees without someone there to make sure you're OK."

"I was there to make sure he was OK." Jamie pointed out.

"Don't be silly, I meant a grown up. Or a girl."

I blushed again. I hadn't actually managed to speak yet.

"Cat got your tongue? Or are you shy?" asked Louisa.

"I'm not shy." I mumbled pathetically.

"Aww, you are shy!"

"Leave him alone, go and flush your head down the toilet!" said Jamie.

"You be careful you don't get a spanking Jamie Coombes! You weren't so shy last time I saw you , Owen. Do you only speak to girls when your naked?"

I felt as though my whole body was blushing at this point, and couldn't think of a comeback. I didn't want to just say something mean because I thought I liked her.

But Louisa's smirk faltered when I didn't laugh at her joke. Her fingers twitched at her sides. "Still won't speak to me?" The playful lilt in her voice sharpened and she got a weird look on her face.

I took a step back, but not fast enough. She lunged—hands hooking into my waistband—and yanked. My shorts and pants slid down in one mortifying swoop. I stepped back to escape but my shorts were now around my ankles and I crashed backward onto the grass. The impact knocked the air from my lungs. I scrambled to get up as quickly as I could manage and then bent down to pull my shorts back up but Louisa grabbed me while I was bending down.

"Rude little boys get—" smack! "—what they—" smack! "—deserve!" The spanks stung but the humiliation was far worse. Her palm connected twice more before I twisted away, scrambling to my knees with fabric tangled around my ankles.

Jamie caught hold of her to stop her trying to grab me again. "Louisa, stop that..."

"Relax, you little loser, it's just a game." She dusted grass off her skirt, watching me struggle with detached amusement. "Chill out, he's fine, you don't mind me smacking your cute little bottom, do you Owen?"

I ignored her but managed to use her break in concentration to finally wrench my shorts back up. Louisa's smirk wavered when she saw my face. "Oh, come on, don't be such a baby..." But I turned and bolted for the trees. I needed to go somewhere I could try to fight off urge to cry without anyone seeing me.

I crouched behind a mossy trunk, pressing my forehead to the bark. The tears came then, silent and humiliating. I hated this. I hated how everything could flip from fun to awful in seconds. I hated being teased or treated like a little child and hated how my body then betrayed me with these stupid, childish reactions. A twig snapped nearby. I scrubbed at my face with my sleeve, but it was too late.

"Go away," I muttered, though I knew it was Jamie even before he slid down beside me. He didn't speak, just pressed his shoulder against mine, warm and solid. We sat like that for a long minute, listening to the distant chatter of Louisa greeting Mrs. Coombes at the door.

"You okay?" Jamie finally asked, picking at a blade of grass.

"No." The word came out cracked. I cleared my throat.

"I'm sorry about Louisa. I told you she was awful. See, you need to listen to me, I'm always right!"

I wasn't able to raise a smile.

Jamie's arm slid around my shoulders, tentative at first, just a light pressure against my back. Then, when I didn't pull away, his grip tightened. His whole side pressed firmly against mine. I exhaled sharply through my nose and let my head drop onto his shoulder.

"Better?" Jamie whispered after a while. His fingers tapped an uneven rhythm against my upper arm.

I shrugged, but still didn't move away. My throat still felt tight, but the tears had stopped at least. Mrs. Pickles rustled through the leaves, and I finally smiled as she brushed past us, probably plotting her next avian assassination.

Jamie shifted suddenly, and patted my knee. "Look!" He pointed to a spot near the base of the tree where a group of mushrooms grew in a perfect circle. "the fairy ring."

I blinked at him. "What?"

He got up and poked at a mushroom cap with a twig. "Fairies dance here at midnight. My Grandma says if you sit in the ring, they’ll steal your name." He glanced up, eyes bright with mischief. "Wanna try?"

I snorted, but Jamie was already scooting forward, his shorts riding up till I could see the bottom edge of his underwear as he crossed his legs inside the circle. "Jamie Coombes," he announced to the empty air, "steal that if you can."

The absurdity of it loosened something in my chest. I wiped my nose on my sleeve and crawled over. "Owen Hicks," I mumbled, pressing my palms to the damp earth between the mushrooms. The soil smelled rich and alive. "Take it. I don’t want it anyway."

Jamie giggled. We sat there like idiots, waiting for nothing, until a breeze sent leaves skittering over our shoes. Jamie gasped. "Did you feel that? That was them!"

"Don't be daft. It's not even midnight anyway, it's like, six thirty!"

"Shhh!" Jamie giggled, "don't spoilt it!"

"OK," I smiled, indulging him, "what next then, do we make a wish?"

"Good idea!"

Jamie took my hand and closed his eyes and it somehow looked like someone making a wish. Like you could tell!

"What did you wish for?" I asked

"I wished for both of us. But I can't tell you what, or it won't come true!"

Of course.

HELEN'S JOURNAL

I turned up to collect Owen from Judith's on time and this time he was ready and waiting for me. I was hoping for lots of chatter about school in the car, but got nothing. I guessed it was to be expected that he'd be tired out. But he remained withdrawn and quiet all night.

It wasn't until some time after dinner that Amy came to speak to me. She slammed her water bottle down on the kitchen counter. "Guess, what Owen just told me?" she asked, but I could tell I wouldn't be given time to guess; "That Louisa Martin girl, pulled his shorts down without asking and smacked him for no reason!" Her fingers curled into fists, her knuckles going white. "I always thought she was a stuck up little bitch. Does she think she can just smack Owen whenever she feels like it?"

The dishwasher hummed between us as I wiped my hands on a tea towel, ignoring Amy's bad language. "Did Owen tell you this himself?"

Amy's nostrils flared as she snatched her water bottle back up. "Yeah, he told me himself. She started teasing him and when he wouldn't play along he says Louisa just yanked his shorts down and started smacking him! I'm gonna rip her stupid hair clips right out tomorrow."

The kettle clicked off behind me, steam curling into the silence. I pressed my palms flat against the countertop. "Amy, no. You will not cause a scene at school." Amy's eyes widened. I reached for her wrist, softening my tone. "I don't need you getting into trouble so early in the year. I'll speak to Judith. Louisa won't be allowed near Owen again."

"But..."

"No buts," I squeezed her fingers. "let's deal with this maturely."

Amy's shoulders slumped, but her jaw stayed clenched. "It's not fair," she muttered, kicking the cabinet door.

"Did he say anything about school?"

"No." she said, but I could see that she was now sulking and realised I would not be getting much more out of the conversation. I thanked her for bringing me the news and let her go to calm down.

I’m not sure why Owen chose to confide in Amy and not me, but rather than choose to be offended, I gave him some space. It’s a shame something unfortunate like this happened on his first day, and nothing to do with school! Hopefully tomorrow will be smoother sailing.

HELEN'S JOURNAL

Owen had been even more withdrawn after his second day at school having apparently had his entry phsycical. I assured him that it was a one off deal but all the same I felt even more nervous dropping him off this morning. But he seemed a little happier when I picked him up, and later in the safety of the car he even began to tell me a little about his day.

"We had music," he said, fingers tapping against his knees. "I got to have a go at playing drums!” He paused for a moment, “I was alright at it."

That made me happy. It's the closest he's come to pride in weeks.

"Then we had history," he continued, "and that was not bad."

"Not bad, eh? You must have enjoyed it!" I teased.

"It was better than maths," he muttered, but I caught the flicker of a smile before he turned his face toward the window again. His fingers drummed faster against his knees, "and then... we had nap time."

"Ah, yes. That boy Jayden's mother told me about that."

"Yeah. After lunch." His shoulder lifted in a shrug, but his voice dipped lower. " I Thought it was stupid at first. But..." A pause long enough for the traffic light to turn green. "It's kinda nice. Better than lessons, anyway!"

The admission hung between us, fragile as a soap bubble. I kept my eyes on the road, afraid any reaction might pop it. Owen hadn't voluntarily confessed to enjoying or benefiting from anything he considered regressive since Puericil began. Not without sarcasm. Not without a side of resentment.

"They dim the lights," he continued, almost to himself. "And play this... quiet music. Like rain sounds, but with piano underneath." His sneaker scuffed against the floor mat. "Jamie falls asleep straight away. But I just... lie there, but eventually I must have fallen asleep."

"You are in class with Jamie then?"

"Yes. We nap in the same bed." He side eyed me as if judging my reaction. "It was his idea. It's big enough, bigger than mine at home."

Another traffic light ahead turned amber, and I eased my foot onto the brake. Owen's admission—so casual, so matter-of-fact—sent a dozen questions spiraling through my mind. Why would they assign shared sleeping arrangements? Was this standard Puericil protocol, or something unique to Sandgrove? Did Jamie's mother know? Did she approve? I decided to not show any concern or disapproval.

"And Jayden?" I asked instead, keeping my tone light. "Where does he nap?"

Owen snorted, "In a big crib. Like a toddler." He rolled his eyes, but there was no real malice in it. "All the Group Ones do."

"Oh my, well, at least you are not a Group One then." I replied. I think nap time is a great idea for them, but cribs? What on earth can the reason for that be?

"Mummy, can we get chips on the way home?"

"Of course, angel" I replied. It wasn't the plan, but why not!

OWEN'S JOURNAL

I went to school today feeling happier and less nervous after my chat with Mum last night. I felt less anxious that something weird was going to happen again. I didn’t write yesterday, but I got my school physical. They told me they were happy I was in the correct group. I don’t really feel like writing about the physical itself though, so let’s forget it. Today was a new day.

I was starting to figure out my way around and me and most of the teachers now recognised each other, even if we couldn't always remember each other's names. I liked Miss Stratton in History (she seems kind and quite pretty) and Mr Paisley my form tutor. Oh, Naomi was right, by the way, teachers or volunteer supervisors do always supervise the toilets, but like a lot of the boys, I've worked out that it's less weird if you go in as a group. There's still only one adult or girl there, so at least they are not staring at you alone the whole time.

Much of the day was a standard school day, and after yesterday, I can't tell you what a relief that was! But there were still a couple of odd events. I guess I will get used to them eventually.

The first one happened at lunch time. Jamie and I were standing about, bored, watching the Group Ones playing on their play equipment. They have their own playground, like with slides, swings and a climbing frame. We weren't being weird watching them by the way, it all came about because I asked Jamie why they got a playground and we didn't. He said because they are little ones and we're bigger boys, which made me feel a bit embarrassed to have asked, but the thing is, we're not allowed to play football, or anything fun at all. But we don’t get to go in the playground either, so what are we supposed to do? It's not fair.

So I felt a bit jealous watching the “ones” having fun. It was while we were watching them that we saw a little incident break out. Jayden knocked over another boy, completely by mistake. He just jumped down from the frame without looking and backed into this other boy, knocking him on his butt. This boy got all upset and starting complaining to Jayden who was clearly apologising. Despite this, the boy ran off blubbing, only to reappear a couple of minutes later with a Group Two boy. I didn't recognise him, he's not in my form, but it turned out to be the little lad's brother.

Well he got in Jayden's face and had him by the collar, almost off the ground by this point. The Group Two boy was shouting about Jayden picking on a little kids and being a bully and pathetic. Jayden was clearly afraid and crying. The "little kid" was in fact slightly bigger than Jayden, and in any case he never picked on him!

"Hey!" I yelled, already rushing over. Jamie chased after me as I closed the distance. "Back off!"

The boy turned with a sneer, his grip still tight on Jayden's collar. "Get lost! Mind your own business."

Up close, I sized him up and saw that he was bigger than I'd realized. Jamie materialized at my elbow, uncharacteristically bold. "Let him go, Josh." His voice wavered only slightly. "Jayden didn't mean it."

Josh's little brother hovered behind him, sniffling dramatically.

"Jayden's fifteen," Josh spat, though his grip slackened. "He shouldn't be playing with the young ones."

"Jayden's eight in terms of maturity," I snapped, pointing at Josh's brother—who was, now that I looked properly, at least a head taller than Jayden. "Your brother looks at least ten. Look at them!"

Jayden made a tiny, wounded noise next to me. His face crumpled like paper, and before any of us could react, he twisted free and bolted across the playground toward the school building.

Josh rounded on me instantly, his face going purple. "My brother's nine actually, and what has it got to do with you anyway?" His fists clenched at his sides, shoulders hunching like a bull about to charge.

I stood my ground, adrenaline buzzing in my ears. "I said… your brother's bigger than Jayden. And older." My voice didn't shake nearly as much as my knees. "And you’re much bigger than Jayden, so back off."

My hope that my show of confidence and quite reasonable words would make him back down were dashed as Josh lunged, fortunately just as a shadow fell across us.

The broad shouldered shadow loomed over us. Mr. Paisley. His hand clamped down on Josh’s shoulder like a vice. "Problem here, boys?"

Josh had frozen mid-lunge, his face paling. "No, sir. Just…just talking."

Jamie piped up before Josh could spin it further. "Josh was bullying Jayden, Sir. Owen stopped him."

Mr. Paisley’s gaze flicked to me. "Is that so, Owen?"

I swallowed hard. "Yeah. Jayden knocked his brother over by accident, and Josh was choking him over it, and being mean to him."

Mr. Paisley's grip tightened fractionally on Joshua's shoulder, his eyebrows lifting as he took in my explanation. The silence stretched just long enough for sweat to bead on my forehead before he gave a single, decisive nod. "Right. Joshua, explain yourself."

Joshua's mouth opened, closed and opened again like a fish out of water. His shoulders slumped under Mr. Paisley's expectant stare. "I…but Jayden hurt my brother…"

"And was it deliberate?" Mr. Paisley interrupted, his voice as calm as if he were asking about homework.

A pause. Then, barely audible: "No, sir."

Jamie chose that moment to nudge me in the ribs, "look at the boys watching," He whispered; “we got aura!”

I gave a little embarrassed grin. "Thanks for backing me up J."

"What was that Mr Coombes?" barked Mr Pasiely.

"Nothing, Sir."

"Good."

Joshua's face went pale as Mr. Paisley marched him toward the wooden bench by the climbing frame. Mr. Paisley sat first, dragging Joshua across his lap in one practiced motion. The playground went dead silent except for the distant squeak of an recently vacated swing.

The teacher pulled down Joshua's shorts, not roughly but firmly, baring his bottom in front of all of us in the playground! The first smack cracked through the air like a gunshot. I swear it echoed around the playground. Joshua jerked, his fingers clawing at Mr. Paisley's trouser leg. Four more came in quick succession, each louder than the last, Joshua's shorts still bunched around his thighs.

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!

Josh’s bare cheeks bloomed pink under the teacher's broad palm. I hat to sit down on a waist height wall and cross my legs tightly as for some reason my dick was starting to wake up. Why was my heart pounding like this?

By the eighth strike, Joshua's breathing came in ragged huffs, but to give him credit, his eyes stayed dry and he didn’t make much fuss. Mr. Paisley paused, rubbing the reddest spot almost thoughtfully before delivering the final two sharp smacks that made my toes curl just watching.

"Stand." Mr. Paisley's command sent Joshua scrambling upright, pulling his shorts back into place with a wince. "Now thank me for your correction."

Joshua's throat worked silently before he choked out, "Thank you, sir."

Joshua stood there, rubbing his backside with one hand while the other fidgeted with his collar. Mr. Paisley cleared his throat pointedly.

"And?" the teacher prompted, arms crossed.

Joshua's shoulders slumped further. "Sorry," he mumbled at the ground between Jamie and me.

Jamie nudged me—subtly, but not subtle enough that Mr. Paisley didn’t catch it—and we both chorused, "It’s okay," in that overly bright tone you use when adults are watching.

Mr. Paisley gave a satisfied nod before marching Josh off toward the school building, one hand firmly on his shoulder. The second they were out of earshot, Jamie whirled to face me, eyes alight.

He elbowed me again with a grin. "Pretty good result, huh?"

I snorted, watching Joshua's stiff-legged retreat beside Mr. Paisley's looming frame. "Oh man, I dunno why I'm laughing," I admitted, rubbing my sweaty palms on my shorts. "That could've been me."

A phantom sting echoed across my own backside in remembrance of my own recent spankings. Still, I found this experience quite satisfying. I knew that squaring up to that lad to help Jayden was the right thing to do, but it always gets the adrenaline going...you never know how it will go. One thing you did know at my old school - not only would the teachers have done nothing to help Jayden, but when they caught me and Joshua fighting they would have punished both of us without listening to either of us. I appreciated the justice here. OK, seeing public spankings was a bit weird at first but I think, as long as I can avoid them myself it's not really a problem. Since no one else is listening, I guess I can admit here that I quite liked watching Joshua get spanked, and only partly because he had it coming. I don't really know why, but it's not a big deal if no one else knows is it?

Anyway, back to the playground. Just about then, Jamie's smile faltered as realization dawned. "Jayden!" he cried.

It was kind of a nice surprise to me that Jamie would think of our friend. I’m starting to see different sides to him. We went to look for Jayden together and found him curled in a little alcove near the gym, knees drawn to his chest. His face was buried in his arms, but the shudder of his shoulders gave him away. Jamie knelt first, murmuring something too low for me to catch. When Jayden lifted his head, his nose was pink, and his eyes wet with tears.

"Did Josh get in trouble?" His asked in a fragile, hoarse little voice.

"He sure did," Jamie replied, "a spanking, there and then!"

"I'm sorry if anything I said upset you Jayden," I mumbled, scuffing my trainer against the concrete floor. Jayden wiped his nose on his sleeve and shook his head hard enough to make his blond curls bounce.

"It wasn't your fault," he sniffed. "I just...hate being eight all the time." His small hands clenched into fists against his knees. "I wanna be big like Josh. I wanna..." His voice cracked. "I wanna be able to do more, to stay up later....and to play with you guys."

"Look mate, you might be small," I said, nudging Jayden's foot with mine, "but you're cool. And you're smarter than me and Jamie put together."

Jamie opened his mouth to complain then quickly snapped it shut again. "Okay, fair," Jamie admitted with a laugh, ruffling Jayden's hair. "That's probably about right!"

Jayden's giggle was sniffly but genuine, and something tight in my chest loosened. He scrubbed his face again, then surprised me by launching forward to hug me, like a puppy jumping into your lap. His face pressed into my shoulder. "Thanks, Owen," he mumbled into my shirt.

"You're welcome. I'll always look out for a mate. And Jamie will too, right?"

"Yeah of course,” agreed Jamie, “Anyway, it's time to go guys, the bell's gone!"

We left together, but Jayden peeled off with a shy wave at a junction in the corridors, his backpack bouncing against his narrow shoulders as he scurried away. Jamie nudged me toward French class, where Madame Maurette was waiting to become my latest new teacher.

"Bonjour, mes petits garçons," she trilled as we filed in, which Jamie found hilarious for some reason. I followed him to a desk near the back, which suited me fine.

There's not a lot to report here. I'm not great at French (notice a pattern here?) but the lesson was marginally more fun that the terrible ones at my old school. About half way through a boy near the front stuck his hand up.

"Oui, Thomas?" Madame Maurette tilted her head.

"Can I go to the toilet, please Miss?"

"En Francais, Thomas?"

Thomas squirmed in his seat. "Erm...Je...je voudrais aller aux toilettes, s'il vous plaît?" His voice cracked on 'toilettes,' turning it into a squeak.

Madame Maurette pressed a small silver button on her desk and within moments the classroom door swung open. A girl I vaguely recognized from the swimming pool strode in with the purposeful air of someone who'd done this a dozen times before.

"Thomas needs the facilities, Stacey," Madame Maurette said, already turning back to her whiteboard.

The girl volunteer nodded and extended her hand toward Thomas who shuffled after her, shoulders hunched. The door clicked shut behind them and I made a mental note to start drinking less. I need to avoid trips to the toilet as much as possible! The pair returned, maybe five minutes later as I was looking out of the window daydreaming. I turned to face the front as the girl was telling Madame that Thomas had had a wet patch in his underwear and was placing the offending item on her desk, explaining that Thomas was now “going commando”. Madame nodded and said something that I didn’t catch, before continuing the lesson. I have no idea what the consequences, if any, of Thomas’ misfortune might be, but the discarded underpants remained on the desk for all to see for the remainder of the class! I felt sorry for him and it was pretty hard to concentrate on the lesson after that.

***

Once French was out of the way and we had made our way to the sortie (!) there was just one lesson left, PE. Most of my class were going to be doing gym class. Although I like PE, gymnastics is not my favourite, so I was quite happy to be asked to volunteer to try out for the school swim team instead. I’m only an OK swimmer so didn't expect to be picked but an hour messing about in the pool beat gym. And, yes, I'd already clocked by this point that swimming here probably meant naked, but I also knew, since he was the one who came looking for volunteers, that the swimming coach was Mr Robson, a young male teacher. So I figured it wouldn't be so bad.

When I got to the pool locker rooms, there were only three other boys there, so I assumed they were also trying out. Unfortunately, Naomi was there as well, and no sign of Mr Robson!

Naomi didn’t give us a second to breathe, let alone chat. The moment the door clicked shut behind us, she was in bossy "supervisor mode". She marched us toward the benches with a level of efficiency that felt more like a military drill than a sports try-out. Before any of us could even mutter a hello, we were ordered to strip. There was no chance to introduce myself there was only the frantic rustle of fabric as we shed our uniforms and stood exposed on the cold tiles.

The others all put on armbands in the school’s official colours but I didn't have one to put on. It turned out that they weren't trying out, they were the swim team! No wonder they wanted more boys to try out. Naomi lined us up in a rigid row, our toes touching the white line on the floor, for a formal inspection. As I stood there, the sudden stillness of the room made me acutely aware of everything. I found my gaze drifting, a quick, involuntary scan of the boys beside me. To my left, the boy was noticeably more developed than I was; to my right, someone was roughly my size, and the boy at the end of the line was a little smaller. A strange wave of relief washed over me. I wasn't the outlier. I actually felt reasonably reassured.

Naomi walked around us. "Shoulders back, Harry. Cute bottom, Owen. You'll fit right in!" She said before brushing her hand down the line across all four of our butts like she was sweeping piano keys.

"Right boys, don't forget to go to the toilet before you get in the pool, if you need it!" Naomi commanded, her hands on her hips.

The sheer patronizing tone of it made my skin prickle. We weren't toddlers in a nursery, yet here she was, treating a group of thirteen-year-olds like they couldn't be trusted to manage their own bladders. I opened my mouth to mutter a protest, but annoyingly, I did need to pee.

I looked over at the boy next to me—the one about my size—and saw him shifting uncomfortably too, his face flushed. He caught my eye and gave a small, sheepish shrug. With Naomi hovering just a few feet behind us, acting as a human sheepdog, the two of us shuffled toward the toilets.

Once again, Naomi didn’t just stand by the door; she stepped inside, her presence filling the small space with an air of relentless surveillance. She leaned against the wall, crossing her arms, her gaze sweeping over us. Fortunately, there were two of us boys in there this time, and to my surprise the boy in the stall next to me started randomly chatting to Naomi. I found it baffling that he would be so relaxed about it, but it distracted her long enough for me to be able to pee while she wasn't looking.

Naomi then marched us out of the changing area and toward the shimmering blue expanse of the pool, her footsteps echoing like a metronome on the wet tiles. We walked in a tight cluster, four naked boys trailing behind a girl who had just pretty much admitted in not so many words that she got a kick out of seeing us naked, which just made me even more uncomfortable.

"Mr. Robson is finishing a meeting in the gym," she announced, her voice bouncing off the water and the high ceilings. "He'll be here in a few minutes. Until then, stay exactly where I can see you." With a singular, commanding motion, she hoisted herself up into the lifeguard’s high chair, perched there officiously, her eyes scanning us for any sign of mischief.

Relieved to be out from under her immediate gaze, we huddled together at the poolside. The air was thick with the smell of chlorine and the hum of the ventilation system. For a moment, we just sat there in a companionable, awkward silence, our legs dangling over the edge of the pool. I shifted slightly, feeling the cool air on my skin, and decided to try to break the ice. "I'm Owen," I said, glancing at the others.

"Daniel," the tallest boy replied. He sat with a rigid posture, his back straight as a board, looking more like he was attending a formal interview than swimming. Well, apart from being naked of course. He gave me a polite, measured nod, his expression guarded. He seemed to be the sort of person who followed every rule to the letter.

"I'm Zac!" the boy from the toilets chirped, leaning back on his elbows with an easy grin. He was the one who had distracted Naomi earlier, and was the easiest to break the ice with. "You're the new guy, right? I've seen you around with Jamie. This is Harry," he added, nudging the smallest boy next to him. Harry shrank back slightly, his shoulders hunching as if trying to make himself even smaller. He didn't speak at first, just offering a shy, tentative smile, but Zac didn't let him slip off the hook. "Come on, Harry, don't be shy. Tell Owen how much you love the butterfly!"

Harry chuckled softly, his shyness beginning to thaw under Zac's relentless friendliness. "I don't actually love it," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm just... OK at it." As we chatted, the tension that had built up during the locker room inspection began to dissipate.

"We're basically a floating disaster zone," Zac whispered, leaning in with a mischievous glint in his eye. He gestured vaguely toward the pool with a thumb. "The coach is great, but the talent level is... well, let’s just say we take part. That's why Sir is desperate for new blood, Owen. Like, 'we’ll take anyone who can stay afloat for ten meters' desperate."

Daniel stiffened, his back snapping even straighter. "We are not a disaster zone, Zac. It's just there's only three of us. We can't even enter a relay. If we had a proper relay team, our times would be competitive."

Zac rolled his eyes, grinning at me. "Daniel's the captain. We don't lose because we're bad, we lose because we're outnumbered. That's the official line."

"But it's true!" Daniel protested. "How can we not be bottom of the table when there's only three of us!"

"Wait," I asked, "you actually get to compete? Like, properly, against other schools?"

"Oh, yeah," Zac confirmed, his voice brightening. "We get to race properly. They don't like us being too competitive which each other though, so it's all very supportive."

"It would still be nice to win for once." Daniel muttered.

"So, how long have you guys been at Sandgrove?" I asked.

Zac beamed, leaning back and stretching his arms over his head with a carefree yawn. "Me and Daniel have been here two years," he chirped, his voice echoing slightly in the cavernous room. "We're veterans, kind of. Though Harry here is the real veteran. He’s been here three years!"

I looked over at Harry, who seemed to shrink further into himself, his pale skin practically glowing against the blue of the pool.

"He actually used to be in Group One," Zac added with a mischievous wink.

Harry’s face flushed a deep crimson, and he quickly shifted. "But I'm in Group Two now, like you," he said, glancing at Zac and Daniel then briefly at me before looking down again. I wondered if he knew Jayden well if he had been in Group One, but decided not to bring it up then. Instead I decided it was time to own up to my lack of genuine interest in swimming as a sport.

"Well anyway, I have to fess up, I'm not that great at swimming. I won't drown, but I don't expect I'd win any races. I only came along today for a laugh."

"Well, I hope you don't regret it, because if you can stay afloat, you'll be in!" Zac laughed.

Daniel looked a little irritated. I couldn't tell if he was annoyed by me or Zac, or both.

The rhythmic slapping of sneakers on wet tiles announced Mr. Robson’s arrival long before he rounded the corner. He didn’t just walk into the pool area; he strode purposefully, radiating a kind of energy that made me interested to hear what he would say.

“RIght, which brave lads have we got trying out today then? Ah, just you." He said, briefly deflated.

"Sorry Sir."

"Oh, no, no. I didn't mean it like that! You're very welcome, Owen. I was just hoping for a few more, that's all." His grin was wide and genuinely welcoming. For a few minutes, the sheer force of his enthusiasm was infectious. I forgot all about being naked and got a sudden, surprising urge to actually prove myself in the water.

We had a bit of a warm up, then I did a pretty good timed freestyle. I pushed off the wall with everything I had, my arms cutting through the chlorine with a precision I didn’t know I possessed. I could hear the muffled cheers of encouragement from Zac and Harry at poolside, and for the first time in months, I felt like a normal thirteen-year-old boy instead of a medical project. I hit the wall with a satisfying slap, glancing up to see Mr. Robson nodding vigorously, checking his stopwatch with an impressed expression.

But the bubble burst the second I surfaced. "Zac! Stop running on the poolside this instant! You know the rules!" Naomi’s voice sliced through the air, sharp and uncompromising.

The sound acted like a cold bucket of water over my head. Suddenly, reality rushed back. There I was bobbing about naked while Naomi and Mr. Robson stood on the deck, fully clothed and in total control. I felt small and vulnerable and wanted to get out of there.

When Mr. Robson signaled for a backstroke length, I froze. The thought of floating on my back, completely open to the gaze of the adults perched above us, felt like too much. I tried to fake a cramp in my leg, treading water with a hesitant, shaky effort. I couldn't bring myself to expose my front in such a blatant way. I felt a hot flush of shame creep up my neck.

After delaying for a while, I noticed Daniel had gone to say something to Naomi and while she was distracted, I decided to get it over with, but I'm afraid it was a poor, clumsy effort as I couldn't concentrate at all.

"Don't worry about the backstroke, Owen; we can’t all be great at everything," Mr. Robson said, his voice warm and devoid of judgment. He stepped closer to the pool's edge, peering down at me with a supportive smile. "The freestyle was the real test. You've got a natural glide and a powerful kick. Regardless of the backstroke, you're in. Welcome to the Sandgrove Swim Team, Owen."

I glanced toward the poolside where Zac was currently wearing a smug, 'I-told-you-so' expression. I realised with some dread that this probably meant I'd one day have to swim nude in front of even more people. Still, as we climbed out of the pool, the cold air making me shiver as it hit my wet skin, I felt a happy shift in dynamic. I wasn't just a newcomer anymore; I was a teammate.

Zac slapped my shoulder with a wet hand, nearly knocking me off balance. "Told you! You were a shoe-in. Now we can actually attempt a relay without Daniel having to swim four laps in a row while sobbing!"

Daniel sighed, though he gave me a small, genuine smile of welcome and offered me a firm handshake. I kind of admired how he managed to exude the dignified authority of a captain even here in this weird place and situation. Even Harry looked a bit more relaxed, his shyness replaced by a quiet sort of, I don’t know really, but I felt accepted and I think he felt like he belonged somewhere too. Just a shame that somewhere is here, but I am starting to realise that it’s not always that bad if you just chill out about it a bit.

***

Jamie was waiting for me in the car park, and I actually felt happy to tell him I'd made the team. The fact that I’d made the team simply by showing up, well, I left that part out.

As usual, he gave me a lift back to his place where I waited for Mum to pick me up. This time we went up to his bedroom, but unable to agree what game to play, we ended up sitting around chatting some more. Jamie brought up the incident with Jayden at lunch time and we both enjoyed reliving it. I think before long we were talking ourselves up as the school superheroes that people could call to come and rescue them! I know that's silly really, but I hope our cred has gone up a bit at least.

"Did I tell you?" I said, kicking my heels against Jamie's bedframe. "My birthday's next Thursday."

Jamie perked up from where he was sprawled on the carpet. "Really? What are you doing for it?"

I shrugged, picking at a loose thread on my sock. "Dunno. Mum mentioned maybe going to the beach if the weather's decent."

Jamie sat bolt upright. "We could go to the pier! They've got that massive arcade now, the one with the mini bowling alley. And you can go crabbing!"

A laugh burst out of me. "Since when do you care about crabs?"

"Well, I did that with my Uncle last year and it was fun."

"And who says you're coming?"

"Aren't I?"

"Sure, if you want?"

"Can I sleep over at your house on your birthday?"

"I dunno, I'd have to ask?"

"OK. Are you going to? Ask?"

"I guess so."

"Owen!" Jamie threw a pillow at my face, bouncing on knees in frustration. "You could be more enthusiastic! Don't you even want me at your stupid birthday?"

I flopped backward onto his bed, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars plastered across his ceiling. "Of 'course I want you there, if you want...""

With a sudden war cry, he launched himself at me, fingers spidering up my ribs in an unprovoked tickle attack before I could block him. "Owen!" he hissed, breath hot against my ear as I writhed. "Admit it! Say you like me!"

I giggled, knees jerking upward as his thumbs found the hollows behind my knees. "Jamie…stop!…" The words dissolved into breathless giggles as he straddled my waist, relentlessly attacking. His hair flopped into his eyes, cheeks pink with mischief.

"Say it!" Jamie dug his fingers into my armpits, and I arched off the bed with a yelp. "Stop being basic and say you love hanging out with me, you big idiot... "

I twisted under Jamie's wriggling fingers, my ribs aching from laughter. "OK…OK!" I gasped, my voice cracking. "I like hanging out with you! Only a bit!"

Jamie paused, his fingers hovering over my armpits like a threat. "Weak," he declared, then dug in harder.

"Fine!" I shrieked, bucking under him. "I love you...I mean...hanging out with you! I love hanging out with you!"

"Ohhh," he cooed, leaning down until his nose nearly brushed mine. "Owen Hicks loves me! I love you too Owen." he giggled.

"Shut up," I muttered, shoving at his shoulders. "I said that by mistake!"

"Charming! Well you can make sure you invite me to your birthday by mistake as well!"

"Alright, alright! I was going to anyway!" I laughed.

Yeah, he’s very weird, Jamie, but lots of fun. I never thought I’d say that when I first met him, or even the first time he visited my house. But he doesn’t seem to worry about anything, and he helps me forget what I’m worrying about, at least for a little bit.

I saw Louisa from a distance today as well. She’s still pretty. I wish I hadn’t clammed up when she talked to me last time, but after what she did I don’t think I’ll be able to look her in the eye again sadly.

And yes, as I was saying to Jamie, it’s my birthday soon. Of course I’ll invite him, the idiot. Probably Jayden and the boys from the swim team too. Or do you think it would be a bit lame asking them when I only just met them?

(End of File)