THE CHAMPIONS 26
Back at The Cottage
Back at The Cottage
The key was located and the party entered the Training Room where the losers were brought formally to their knees prior to their release. Harry went to put the kettle on.
George released Scott who, somewhat incongruously, thanked him for enabling him to participate before starting to fix his raggedy hair do. He had no intention of dressing any further before jogging home with his rucksack. Aiden freed Jamie who shook his hand and just threw one of his usual over-tight polo shirts on and once more everyone appeared to be ignoring James while they replaced the kit they had borrowed.
James risked a gentle, "A-hm". He was ignored. After about half a minute he tried again and Jamie walked up to him with the willow stick in his hand. James managed to keep quiet for about five minutes after that while the equipment was being stowed and personal rucksacks packed. Then he pleaded.
"What do you think, guys?"
"He did plead nicely."
"Yeah, but he's still blonde, though." James wasn't sure how long he could control himself. Jamie judged that it was time to cut him some slack. He went to untie his prisoner and relieve him of the heavy rucksack while Scott continued to preen with the aid of his reflection in the window.
James was the only one left to dress now. He stood in just those spectacular, but rather too tight shorts, his walking shoes, a fair layer of collapsed squirty cream, a generous helping of congealed chilli, and the grey stains from the washing up.
"Where's your clothes?"
"They should be here somewhere." Jamie looked puzzled. "Oh, come on man. I've paid off my debt. Where are they?"
"I've left 'em in the shower. Go and get cleaned up."
"Yeah, right. Then you lot nick my clothes and leave me covering my bits with my hands."
"Listen, James. On my honour, no one will remove any of your clothes. Here." Jamie had unpacked the towel that had earlier acted as a kilt for James. "There's soap in the shower."
"Yeah, but no shampoo though, Flossie. Sorry!" George just couldn't resist it. All the boys knew how much James would hate anyone to see him as he was now. That's why George was still taking the odd sneaky photo.
James took the towel, exited the main building and went round to the showers. True enough, his clothes had been dumped on the bench and there was soap and even what seemed to be a clean face flannel in the centre shower compartment. James did, however, take the precaution of taking George's old swimming shorts into the shower with him and hanging them on the hook on the door. James probably enjoyed that shower more than any he had taken in his family’s luxury shower room. He got himself clean and even brought himself to soaping his hair. It wouldn't be long before he could shampoo it at home.
It must have been half an hour before James reappeared in the training room with just the penguin towel wrapped around him. That was no surprise really. He demanded to know where his boxers were. Jamie explained that he wore them for his little hike on Friday and that he didn't think he'd want to put them on quite yet. It was suggested that either James went commando or that he could use George's old shorts as underwear. James left for the shower with Jamie's offer of, "If you want them, I've got them here." as he held a freezer bag containing a bit more than just James's boxers aloft. "Don't say I didn't offer."
By the time James returned to the Training Room, no one had left and everyone had settled to tea and biscuits. James thought that it would be a good idea to make sure that he was allowed to go before leaving and he was a bit miffed that, not for the first time, his presence was not even acknowledged.
James had just about decided to turn and leave when, as if on signal, the others rose and turned the conversation. I'll just give a sample here.
"OK, I'm off."
"Yeah, see you guys next weekend."
"Don't forget about Wednesday."
"Oh, yeah, Wednesday. That OK for you, James?" James was taken aback. Of course, he knew nothing about any meeting on Wednesday. He tried to ask what the **** was going on.
George was ostentatiously flipping through the photos on his phone. "Oh, I think you can make it." The names James then used were somewhat uncomplimentary but no one seemed to care much. "Have you seen this one?"
"Seven thirty alright?"
Four boys then collected their gear and left, leaving their cheerful goodbyes and also leaving an increasingly angry and confused James along with Jamie, who was clearing away the mugs. In a couple of minutes, James's fury had abated slightly but his confusion had certainly not cleared. Jamie didn't explain very much but he did manage to calm James down and to provide a certain amount of reassurance. James was left with the definite idea that he would be well advised to attend.
Eventually a resentful James left without closing the door and Jamie locked up, lodged the key in the usual place and jogged away leaving James to suit himself.
The Wednesday Meeting
Wednesday was always the evening when James had an important appointment at the local Youth Centre. He would normally spend about an hour cleaning himself until he sparkled and applying the latest fashion in deodorants. There were always some fit girls to impress and he was a good-looking kid. He usually put on his immaculate white shell suit and even got his mum to clean his pristine white trainers. Every Wednesday, he convinced himself that he would be sure to score. He has to be right one day, I suppose.
It had come to an important stage in his life, all the cool kids had those silly haircuts that made them look bald once they had their caps on backwards and James had to decide: extreme haircut or the wavy blonde locks that he actually favoured. and that older women seemed to think made him look very handsome. On balance, he told himself that he would be shaving soon and he'd make that important decision then.
His life was full of important decisions and this Wednesday was no different, it was just the considerations that were.
All through Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday the meeting had been on his mind and no one would tell him anything. He wanted to know how to get let off the lead. He'd even planned a speech about the others being on their honour to release him now that he had honoured his debt. It didn't even sound ridiculous to James. Whenever he asked any of his tormentors what would happen or when he would be free, they avoided the questions and just parted with a "Don't forget, half past seven on Wednesday"," or a "See y' t'noig' "
As he got ready, James was more despairing than he was angry. He knew he simply could not afford not to come at his tormentors' demand. He'd even kept his head down in lessons to the extent that some of the teachers noticed.
James decided that he would be unwise to wear his good clothes for his upcoming appointment and took far less time to get ready than usual. His sister noticed and made some smart remark that James knew it would be better not to pursue. He even hoped that he could sneak past his parents so that they wouldn't notice that he wasn't as primped and powdered as usual as he left the house.
At about a quarter to seven, James could put it off no longer, he did NOT want to be late. He took one last, sad look in the mirror, picked up that pair of George's shorts and left like a condemned man on his walk (or at least his cycle ride) to the gallows. At least the Cottage was in the opposite direction from the Youth Centre.
When James dropped his mountain bike beside the Cottage at about twenty-five past seven, it was obvious that others were already present. He straightened himself as much as he thought was possible in what he thought was his present tatty state. and knocked on the door.
He was invited to enter. The sight that presented itself within was ominous.
Two trestle tables had been arranged end to end with an old tubular metal and green canvas chair facing them. Anyone knowing the five boys sitting behind the table should have known that the business in hand was serious because Scott had not managed to get himself tied up. There was even a water jug and five glasses on the table.
James was invited to sit but no one seemed to be in any hurry to speak.
Eventually George asked, "Have you brought my shorts?" James, rather nervously, handed them over.
Jamie, who was sitting in the middle of the group facing James, asked if anyone had anything to say for him. James didn't like the way things were going but there were still those photos.
Following a short pause Harry spoke from the end of the group. "He did keep his word at the end of our little camping weekend."
"He was on time this evening," vouched Scott from the other end of the line."
"He hasn't been his usual pain in the arse in lessons this week." Jamie, who wasn't exactly the most committed student himself, shared several lessons with James and even he found him to be an annoying prat.
James still sat trying to say nothing.
"He turned up on time for a change for his stint helping at the disabled session at the Youth Club on Monday."
With Aiden's testimony, James finally got the idea: he was on trial! He wondered when he would get his turn. These kids had no right to judge him, he'd already paid off his bet. He had every right not to expect to be at their beck and call. That's what was going through his mind but still he managed to suppress his indignation even though it was growing by the minute.
Judge Jamie then invited any more positive testimony. There being none, he invited evidence for the prosecution.
"Well, he's still blonde." Scott cuffed his mate, George, round the back of the head.
The upshot of His Honour, Jamie's, summing up was that James was off the hook. He then asked if he had any questions. James extracted a promise from Jamie in respect of his having paid off his bet completely and assurances from everyone that no one would mention his humiliation to anyone outside the room. All that remained were those photographs.
George called James over to the table and deleted more photos than he could believe. "OK, Blondie? Oh, by the way, why don't you keep those as a souvenir? They might remind you of your weekend." Gorge pushed his outgrown shorts across to the considerably relieved blonde kid. James took them somewhat confusedly but he could always dispose of them later.
"Anyone got any more questions?" The tribunal decided that their business was complete and James was invited to leave without any further ceremony.
"You mean I can go? You won't tell anybody? It's all over?" James received the assurances, made his clumsy farewells and left without delay.
Epilogue
"Well, what're we doing for the rest of the evening?" A game of murderball without the rule about not targeting above mid-thigh took place after all obstructions had been cleared from the Training Room. After several games and more bruises than adult supervision would have tolerated, Aiden was pronounced the winner. It was just for the honour of it but he was always a competitive boy.
At about nine-thirty, the boys called it a day and Jamie and George stayed to finish the tidying and locking up.
"George?"
"Uh?"
"You know those photos?"
"Yeah."
"Did you really get rid of all of them?"
"Jaiiimeee!" said George, looking at first angry and then hurt - before cracking one of his dimpled smiles.
THE END