Jack Banfield Confessions of a Geezer’s Apprentice

Confessions of a Geezer’s Apprentice

So I’ve been given a solicitor. Some balding fella with breath like a drain and yellowing teeth. I ain’t seen much of him. Probably best, I don’t think he’s up to the job. He can’t even tie his tie so it’s the right length. The one time I did see him he gave me this notebook and said to write down everything that happened.

He reckons if I can show the judge that I was just a kid who got caught up with bad people and it weren’t my fault then he might go easy on me. I doubt it. If there’s one thing it taught me it’s that you can’t trust an adult. Especially not one who’s wound up with the law.

This room they’ve left me in stinks of stale sweat and piss and some pigeons keep making that irritating little cooing sound as they crap off the windowsill.

But I got nothing else to do so I might as well tell you how it went down, even though you’ll probably end up thinking I’m a prick. Just remember all of this happened.

More or less.

wednesday

a pretty bad start

I knew it was gonna be a crappy day as soon as I got to school. Grossman was standing on the top steps with his fat arms folded across his soft chest. I couldn’t see the look on his wonky face but I knew it’d have a

smug smile plastered across it. Any excuse to make my life more difficult than it already was.

I trudged across the rain soaked playground, empty apart from two seagulls fighting over an empty crisp packet, slowing as I reached the Upper School steps. The air smelt like 2-stroke and burnt rubber. Clouds scudded across the sky like they had somewhere better to be. I didn’t blame them. Anywhere would be better than this hole.

I weren’t in the mood for Grossman. I weren’t in the mood to be at school. I weren’t in the mood to be awake. I hadn’t had the perkiest of starts to the day. The boiler had crapped out in the night so I had to have a cold shower, then the milk in the fridge had turned and I didn’t find out until I had spooned the first munch of Lidl’s own Coco-Pops into my mouth. And then there was Grossman, standing like the world’s ugliest statue, peering down at me through two small, shrimpy eyes.

‘Sir,’ I said, nodding at him once as I took the steps two at a time. He made dick all attempt to move. I sighed. ‘You wanna shuffle out the way?’

‘You’re late,’ he said, actually stepping to block off the entrance completely.

I weren’t late. You couldn’t be late until the first bell. If the silly arsehole got out my way then we could both start our day. But that weren’t Grossman’s way. He must’ve been brushed off by his wife in the night, because he was on one. I pulled my mobile out my pocket and double checked the time. 8:56. I knew I weren’t late.

‘I ain’t heard no bell, sir. So I figure I’ve still got time.’

‘Don’t be rude,’ Grossman said.

I thought I was being extremely bloody polite considering he was doing his best to land me in the brown stuff. ‘Ain’t being rude. Just wanna get past and seize the day. Y’know, become an important and valued member of society and all that crap.’

‘Watch your language. You’re rude and you’re late.’

‘I wouldn’t be late, which meant I wouldn’t be rude, if you just let me past.’

‘What I don’t understand, Hadley, is where this attitude comes from. I’ve met your father. He seems nice. A little meek, but nice.’

Prick. My fists clenched and I did the breathing exercises that useless NHS therapist taught me after Mum went. Slowly the hot red flash broke apart, leaving just a torn hole where feelings should be. It was better that way. Instead of bottling things up, just push them down. Down so far the only way they could get hurt was if you cut your toenails too short. It was easier to just stop caring. Completely.

‘Whatever,’ I said. ‘All I’m trying to do is get to class. Right now the only thing stopping me is you. And you’re meant to be aiding my educational development. Ain’t doing a great job, I must say.’

Something smacked into my shoulder and my phone hopped out my hand and cracked against the floor. I bent down to pick it up and a leg nudged my arse, sending me sprawling against Grossman’s musty smelling Marks and Spencer’s trousers.

‘Alright, Hadley. What you doing down there?’

Of course. It had to be Richie Pigmass. The only cockwomble brave enough to try and pull that sort of crap in front of Grossman. Because he knew Grossman wouldn’t do nothing. And surprise surprise, he didn’t.

‘Ah, Richie. Good morning. Good weekend I trust?’

I looked at Grossman whilst water seeped into my trousers. He was fawning over Richie, sounding like a Victorian gent. What a nonce.

‘Was great, sir. Dad had tickets for the derby. The atmosphere was electric.’

‘That sounds fantastic,’ Grossman said. ‘I’ve been meaning to give your father a call.’

Has he bollocks. As if one of the most successful men in town would have dick all to do with a worm like Grossman. The worst thing was he knew he was making a twat of himself. And I knew that I’d be the one to pay for it.

‘Of course, sir. He’d love to catch up.’

Grossman beamed. ‘Well, off you go. You’ll be late if you don’t hurry.’

‘Thanks, sir,’ Richie said. ‘See you later, Hadley.’

Grossman moved aside to let Richie past and squeezed his shoulder

as he went. There was my opportunity. I grabbed my phone and dashed past, only to have the air slapped from my chest as one of Grossman’s ham-fisted arms pinned me in place.

He turned to me, his face like a punched lasagne. ‘No phones in school.’ He plucked it from my hand before I had the chance to close my fingers.

‘Leave it out. I need that.’

But before the words were even out, Grossman was lumbering off down the hallway. I saluted him with my middle finger and made my way slowly into class.

I sit at the back. Let’s me do whatever I want, which is genuinely whatever homework is due for the next lesson. It’s not that I don’t do it at home on purpose, I honestly plan to do it, then I get home and all my motivation just drains away. But it ain’t a big problem. Mr Adnams, my Geography teacher, don’t really bother me and I’m left alone a lot of the time. The other reason I like to sit at the back is you can’t get wet tissue spat at your neck, or a ruler sliced across your shoulders, or your chair kicked out from beneath you. And the girls, of course. From my viewpoint I can spend the whole time just peering around. Looking at the girls that don’t much look at me. There’s Natasha, who wears her shirts a little tight so from the right angle you can see her bra. Or Emmie, who started the trend of wearing knee high socks. I like knee high socks. A lot.

That morning I was scribbling the answers to some Sociology questions, trying to put in as many buzzwords as I could when the atmosphere in the room, normally pretty similar to a chimpanzee with a machine gun, changed. I finished writing whatever crap I’d just made up and glanced at the whiteboard.

I’ve got the worst luck. Grossman was stood at the front, his tarnished briefcase open on the desk and his fly undone, staring around the room like a boar with heartburn.

‘Settle down, everyone.’ There was a scraping of chair legs as twenty kids had their hopes of an easy lesson smashed. ‘Mr Adnams is off today,

and as such you’ll have the pleasure of my company.’

I groaned. As if the world hated me this much. I must have been really bad in another life. Like Hitler or Pol Pot or whoever first spotted Coldplay.

‘Did you have something to share with the class, Mr Wilson?’

‘Nah, just stomach cramps,’ I said, cradling my belly and letting out what I thought was a pretty good act of man with terrible stomach pains. ‘I think I should just go and see the first aider.’ I grabbed my bag and started stuffing my books in.

‘Or maybe not,’ Grossman said, showing off stubby white teeth. They never used to be that white. He’s had them done, for sure. ‘I’d hate to have students just wandering around the school during lessons. And didn’t you tell me yourself just this morning how much you were looking forward to bettering yourself? No, Hadley, I think it’s best you stay where you are.’ He clapped his hands. ‘So, Geography. Let’s start with avalanches.’

It’ll be fine, I told myself. Just don’t let him get to you. It’s only an hour. I could deal with Grossman for an hour. Probably. Just play it cool.

‘Hadley.’

I looked up. Everyone had spun round in their seats and was staring at me. That’s the problem with sitting at the back. It ain’t hard to become the centre of attention.

‘Yeah?’

‘I asked you a question. It’s not yeah, it’s yes, Sir.’

‘That’s the question? That don’t make any sense.’

Grossman’s face was turning a touch red. I knew it wouldn’t take much to push him over the edge. He was a prick when he was by himself, but he hated to be made to look stupid in front of people. I knew I shouldn’t be playing silly buggers, as the Reverend calls it, but like I said, it had been a crappy morning.

‘The question,’ Grossman said, quietly, ‘is what steps can a village take to lessen potential avalanche risks?’

‘Small ones,’ I said and leant back in my chair. Job done. There were a few titters of laughter, which weren’t gonna make the old boar happy.

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Don’t be, ain’t your fault.’

He took a deep breath. Wouldn’t be long till the boar charged. ‘What, Hadley, do you mean by small ones?’

‘Surely you remember the question? You asked what steps could be taken, right? Small ones. Little iddy biddy ones. Don’t wake the mountain,’ I said, making my voice all loud and echoey.

His face had gone from red to white, leaving two little spots of colour just above his cheeks. In the wild, the boar would be scraping the ground with its tusks by now.

‘Do you think you’re smart, Hadley?’

I shrugged. ‘Smarter than some.’

‘But not, I think, smart enough. Detention. This evening.’

My chair clattered against the floor. ‘What for? I ain’t done nothing.’

‘I doesn’t matter,’ Grossman said, spittle flying from his lips. ‘I don’t need a reason to keep you behind. But if you want one, then why not wasting my time? You want to take valuable learning time from this class, then I’ll take your valuable personal time after school. Now shut up, sit down and say nothing. Do you understand me?’

I glared at him, but said nothing.

‘Well?’ he said.

‘You said say nothing. I can’t say nothing and something at the same time. Physical impossibility.’ Another ripple of laughter from the class. Emmie smiled at me, her lips half open, inviting and secretive. I got a burst of adrenaline. ‘You gotta make up your mind, Sir. One or the other.’

‘Two hours tonight then. How about that?’

‘Not exactly what I had in mind.’

‘Shut up.’ He looked away and opened a text book at some random page. I looked at Emmie but she was whispering and giggling with another of her girlfriends and my bubble burst. I leant back in my chair and stared at the ceiling, letting the class wash over me.

Olivia Collard (She/They)

Olivia recently found their first primary school report, which was essentially a list of things they Could Not Do in September 1998. They included throwing a beanbag into a hula-hoop from a one metre distance, walking down stairs without help, and resisting the urge to eat chalk.

Fortunately, since then they have become slightly more competent. They graduated from Bath Spa with a first-class degree in Creative Writing, receiving the Best Fiction Writer Prize in their final year.

But they weren’t done with Spa yet. They knew they had a comedy apocalypto just buzzing beneath the surface (they didn’t), so they decided to Write a Book. They accepted their place on the MA where, fittingly, the world ended, and everything was interrupted by Covid. Somehow, however, they graduated with a distinction and won the United Agents New Writing Prize, despite long periods of lockdown-induced despair and fading hygiene.

orscollard@gmail.com / @OliviaRSC

About Not with a Bang

Not with a Bang is an upper-YA apocalyptic comedy set in deep, dark Wiltshire. With a nod to Shaun of the Dead, Mel, a horny teenaged lesbian, must take on blood-thirsty mutant badgers and explosive hedgehogs, to find her family and the stubbornly heterosexual love of her life.