Northern Heights: A story of bullying, love... and revenge.

Bully noun.

Middle High German buole (brother, close relative).

A person who is cruel to others, especially those who are weaker or have less power.

CHAPTER ONE

Fat.

North-East England, 16th of August 2000.

Barbara Singleton was in love. Not in the desensitised, tempered way in which an adult experiences love; Barbara was in her thirteenth year and engulfed in the all-consuming, gut-churning, life-or-death throes of the feelings that come with your first. It had not come as a surprise to her that it was a girl that she’d fallen in love with, nor did she struggle to accept it. To her, it just seemed right. She was sure Mary Davies was unaware of the feelings she had for her, but was hopeful that she felt the same way. If necessary, her affection would hold out until the day Mary realised.

Barbara was not the most popular girl in school. She had been in previous years, but as both her and her classmates had grown she had learned that being ‘big-boned’ like her father was less of an advantage to the females in the family. The shift in opinion had occurred in the week following Easter break the previous year. Over the course of a matter of days, everybody in her class had come to the conclusions that fat was not good, and that Barbara was fat as fuck. But this wouldn’t matter to Mary. She would see the person inside, and that was all that Barbara needed.

Barbara hoped her friends would understand about her and Mary’s affection for one another. So far, she had not divulged her heart’s fervent desire to anyone, save for the cautious hints she gave her Grandma with whom she spoke during her nightly prayers. Prompted by the thought of her friends, the cold, twisting sensation she had begun to associate with them swelled in the pit of her stomach. Her wish would be that her friends would understand their love. That they would see the beauty of it and accept them both into the beating heart of their group.

She had concerns though. The last time she had approached her friends had been at club, where Diane had suggested that she went and fucked off to a fat camp for a year. Barbara had walked the last half of her way back that evening wearing just her polo shirt. Once home, she had pushed her phlegm-encrusted jumper to the bottom of the laundry basket before announcing her return.

That night, Keith Singleton woke from a dream. Hearing muffled sobs through the plasterboard partition, he propped himself on his elbows and turned an ear toward the wall. Remembering their father’s brief, awkward summary of what she had suffered just a few weeks prior, he listened to Barbara with concern for some time. Keith had no idea whether to knock on the wall, her door, or whether either of these acts would only cause her further embarrassment and upset. He waited for a change to occur, anything that would help him decide how to best help her. Just as his arms were starting to ache, he heard snoring. Exhaling a sigh of relief, he lowered himself back onto his bed and rolled over. Her crying now forgotten, he shut his eyes, hoping for a repeat of the dream his hormone-driven, unconscious mind had conjured earlier.

Wednesday had assumed prominence from its peers for Barbara. This was the day she and Mary shared a part of their route to and from Guides. Judging by her new, teletext-synchronised Harry Potter watch, Mary had been early today. Barbara fought to control her breathing, not wishing to show how far she’d pushed herself for their paths to cross. She greeted Mary with a ‘Hi’ once within earshot.

Hi, Mary replied, somewhat distracted.

What’s wrong? she asked, the stress in her voice betraying her concern.

Nothing… came Mary’s initial, defensive response. She looked up at Barbara, to whose delight she decided was worthy of trust in her great matter. It’s just my stupid brother, she continued. He’s like, always in the bathroom,

What? On the toilet or showering?

I don’t even want to think about what he gets up to in there.

Barbara, having an older brother of her own, winced and then nodded in sympathy and understanding.

But today… Mary stopped walking and grabbed Barbara’s wrist. Fanning her chest, she rolled her eyes again, then continued at the machine gun speed only her peers were able to process.

… today he’d even made Mum late too, so I couldn’t get near the mirror. I bet my hair’s all messed up, and it’s all cos—

Barbara brought the bitter recount to a halt with the display of the palms of her hands. Your hair looks beautiful, but I can put it back for you if you want?

Mary rewarded Barbara’s offer with a bright smile. Ooh thanks, She rummaged in a pocket, then produced a hair-clip. Before she turned her back to her, she said words Barbara had been yearning to hear, You’re my best friend, ever!

In the few seconds that were to follow, every sensation, every sound, and every smell assumed a greater intensity for Barbara. The man in the previous field whistled for his dog. A light breeze, carrying with it the smell of wet, mown grass, played across the tiny hairs on the back of her hand. She reached forward and lifted the hair that fell past the back of Mary’s neck, releasing scents of Vosene and coal tar soap.

With hope overruling caution and fear, she decided to leave whatever happened next to the whim of fate. Having come to the conclusion that surprise would be her best option, Barbara bent her head down to almost the same level as Mary’s. Closing her eyes to enhance her other senses, her lips basked in the heat rising from Mary’s neck.

Speaking in a soft, clear voice that trembled with sincerity, she said three words together for the first time, I love you.

The moment Barbara’s lips made contact with the vellus hairs on her neck, Mary ducked and spun around. What are you doing? she demanded, almost shouting. Her face seemed harder, colder.

Barbara’s eyes began to sting. As she took a step toward her, wracking her brain for any hope of limiting the damage.

Mary took a step backward. Did you just try to kiss me? she demanded, her voice brimming with unchecked disgust. Ugh, she exclaimed, then spun around and sprinted away.

Barbara followed her line of trajectory. Her arms grew heavy and her legs felt weak. She saw that Mary was running in the direction of several other figures also in ‘Guide’ blue and navy uniform. Barbara had not recovered from her jog to close to where she still stood. Realising she did not have a chance of catching her up, shoulders heaving as she wept, she turned toward home.

She usually passed by the dark path when she walked this way. Obscured from view on both sides by a variety of bushes and nettles, the path was more of an absence of anything else, which happened to form a line connecting two housing estates. It also bypassed the Gordian maze of cul-de-sacs that formed another estate between them in its entirety. Overgrown with ankle-level, spiked tendrils and bushes which loomed over her head, it was treacherous and intimidating. Barbara had to be desperate to even consider using the short-cut it offered.

Barbara chose to head home via the dark path.

Roughly mid-way along the path, Barbara heard faster rustling noises than those she was making. Instinct told her that that someone was going to catch up with her pretty soon. She looked over her shoulder. Having no idea who the young man in the white shirt and trousers was and not having the slightest desire to find out, she started to run. When he was almost upon her, he bellowed in the voice with feigned depth used by boys wishing to sound like men,

Oi! Fatty! A wail escaped her mouth. C’mere you dirty, fat fuck, he grabbed her by the neck of her polo shirt. Barbara’s size imbued greater strength than almost any boy her own age. This boy, on the cusp of manhood, was at least a couple of years older and the extra exposure to testosterone and growth hormones had already granted his muscles greater density. Pulled backward from her neck, she didn’t stand a chance. Her body twisted around his iron grasp as she fell. Her abdomen hit a large rounded stone. Hard. The trauma reverberated through her rib-cage, putting her diaphragm into spasm, and winding her. Wot da fuck you thinkin’, tryin’ it on wit’ ma’ sista’? he demanded, augmenting his affected deep voice with a bad imitation of a colloquial American accent. Barbara couldn’t breathe, but her hearing was fine. She recognised the excited giggling that followed close behind the boy’s ‘wigga’ speech and looked up. The reason for his attempts at showing off were standing around her. Her friends were here.

Pl... Pl… Barbara, starting to stand but still too winded to speak, held her hands out in supplication. Mary’s brother swatted them aside and shoved her. The blow to her chest was too powerful for Barbara to absorb, she fell to the ground again. A high-pitched ringing filled her ears when her head struck a rock. Above the noise, Barbara heard Diane let out a giggle of excitement.

Blimey James, you’re so strong, she was telling the boy, her clipped tones filled with a liberal spread of admiration. A short girl with sharp features and the largest breasts of their age group, Diane’s clumsy encouragements were more than sufficient to drive the fifteen year old boy’s cruelty to further heights.

He knelt down bedside Barbara. Close enough for her to smell tangerines on his breath.

Men kiss girls, he said, pinning her by her throat while stealing a glance at Diane.

NOT girls. Especially… After his dramatic pause, he continued, Especially when the other girl is a catholic girl! he shouted, again turning around to gauge Diane’s reaction. The wink he received was enough to remove his last shreds of compassion.

Are you a boy? he asked. After gracing her with a few seconds to answer, he raised an eyebrow, then sneered, Can’t talk? Barbara, winded twice in the last thirty seconds, could not. He rolled his eyes in resignation. Maybe you don’t know… When he stood, she could only see his silhouette, in stark contrast against the summers evening sky. With speed, he bent down again. Grabbing the sides of her trousers and knickers at her hips, he jerked both down to her knees in one swift movement. See you’re a—

His words trailed off as his forehead wrinkled in confusion. What’s that? he asked aloud. With her vagina exposed to her friends and the brother of her beloved Mary, the string from her tampon, held loose between her labia, was visible to all.

It was 09.27 on a Saturday morning, and Barbara felt tired. The toll on her physical form was starting to show. Deprived again of the eight hours’ rest it needed to function and to grow, her young mind had been active throughout the night, striving to find meaning in what had happened. Seeking a reason, a cause, anything which it could utilise to reassure itself that such a situation would never happen again, her innocent heart, hurt and confused over Mary’s aggressive reaction to her proclamation of love.

On hearing the phone ring, the now familiar cold, heaving sensation of a fresh wave of dread washed over her. Hearing the grunts and heavy footfall of her father reaching the top of the stairs, she waited to hear the creak of the landing floorboards yielding under his weight. She realised her whispered pleas to The Almighty had failed before he’d said a word.

Barbie? Telephone for you.

Who is it, Dad? she shouted over the credits of the Friends video she’d put on, having resigned herself to another sleepless night. She heard him repeat her query to the caller,

Mary? he said, increasing his volume to ensure the sound carried through the door with enough clarity. Barbara’s heart quickened at the name. Scrambling to her feet, she ran to the door. Making a doorstop by placing a foot several centimetres behind it, she opened a sliver of her room to the rest of the world. Raising her toes to absorb the impact of any intrusion, she snaked her arm through the gap and endured the wait for her father to pass her the handset.

Hello? her greeting sounded squeakier than she would have wanted. There was a long pause before she heard a voice,

Hi Barbara? It’s me. Mary’s voice prompted a surging sensation in her chest.

Hesitant about giving away any sign of keenness, she responded with a casual, Hi.

I— So, I wanted to say I’m sorry about last Wednesday. I heard what happened, my brother is a sick asshole, Barbara remained silent, so after another pause Mary continued, Look, can I make it up to you? Can you meet me at the mall? Today? Hello?

I’m here, Barbara said, not daring to hope. Memories of her recent exposure forced her to ask the question, Why?

Because you’re my best friend, silly. I’ll be there at eleven. In the Food Court. Bye.

Dad! Barbara leant over the pine balustrade, bellowing her summons from the top of the stairs. She heard her Dad amble from the kitchen,

Yes? he asked, coming into view at the foot of the stairs.

Dad, she repeated, her tone conveying the urgency of the request she was about to make. "I need to get to the mall by eleven." Dennis Singleton looked up at his only daughter and his broad face lifted with a mixture of joy and relief. He consulted his watch,

Sweetheart if you hurry I can get you there for 10.15.

Are you sure I can’t keep you company until your friend arrives? Dennis asked from his car seat.

No, I’m fine Dad, Barbara replied. Standing just outside the entrance, her head pointed in the opposite direction to both her feet and her father. You’re not meeting a boy here, are you? he asked.

Barbara’s head spun around to glare at him, No Dad! she cringed.

Before her head returned to its vigil on the entrance, Dennis heard a distracted, Bye. Left with a view of the back of his daughter’s skull, he gave her an affectionate smile. Okay love, be careful and ring when you want picking up, Okay? I’m on call, so it’ll be me or Mum coming to get you. The crows feet next to his eyes wrinkled when he smiled at his daughter’s tweenage awkwardness. Have fun, he said, and with a wave drove off, slowing at intervals Barbara guessed, to watch her in his rear view mirror. Once she was certain he had gone, she turned and went into the mall.

The layout of the mall was much like the shape of a ship’s wheel. Despite the nigh-instant gratification of the fast food outlets which were to the periphery of its spokes, she walked straight to the hub, The Food Court. Consulting her watch and seeing that the time was 10.24, she decided this left plenty of time for her to get a milk-shake. Not long after she had taken her place in the queue at the shake shop, Barbara slipped into a daydream state. Her mind ran through potential scenarios in which she greeted Mary in a variety of different ways, trying each out. Looking into the distance, her gaze fell somewhere beyond the stainless steel panels that lined the walls. The focus of her imagination turned to envisaging Diane and her friends, all clad in their ‘Guide blue’ body warmers and rugby shirts. With growing horror, Barbara realised those thoughts of her fellow guides had not been spontaneous. Inspired by a set of blurs in that exact shade, her wandering mind had built on the reflections in the metal panelling. She turned about, her every fibre clinging to the hope that she would not see her amongst them. A whimper escaped her lips. Her eyes wide, jaw slack, she walked toward the window. There, at the vanguard of the group, walking arm-in-arm with Diane, was Mary’s brother.

Barbara felt her body grow heavy. Though part out of fear, the majority of her sudden lethargy came from the reopening of the still-fresh wound that was Mary’s rejection. This time, accompanying it was the bitter taste of betrayal. Already forming an escape route, Mary’s look of surprise mirrored her own, when she walked past the window.

God, you’re early! she exclaimed, entering the shop. Her eyes darted to Barbara’s feet. Seeing her take a step back, she looked up. Squinting up at her she asked, What’s wrong?

Why’s your brother here with Diane? Barbara’s cautious optimism diluted her demand.

I dunno, Mary shrugged in casual response, then grabbed Barbara’s hand and tugged in the direction that would lead her out of the store. Come on, she said. Barbara, relishing the physical contact, complied. As soon as they left the store, Mary released her hold and ran toward the foot of the escalators. Waving one hand toward herself, she beckoned for her to follow.

Barbara looked around. Seeing nothing in ‘Guide Blue’, she walked to join her. Her caution diminishing, she willed the tension from her body and allowed her heart to bask in the simple joy of being in this beautiful girl’s company. Mary beamed at her with a huge smile as she stopped just in front of her. Barbara reciprocated, then laughed, Ha! I was worri—

A muscular body slammed into hers, cutting her sentence short. The power of the impact punched the air from her lungs as her thigh slammed against the ledge of the shallow wall of a water feature, to the side of the escalator. As Barbara recovered her balance and stood, a second blow aimed above her centre of gravity sent her sprawling into the fountain. Immersed in the cool water, Barbara heard the laughter that erupted throughout the mall.

The need for distraction from another sense overriding her instinct to protect them, she opened her eyes. At first her gaze fell on the coins that lay around her. One coin in particular, though neither brighter nor duller than its fellows, drew her attention. The remaining air in her lungs began to exert its pull, drawing her back to the surface. Forcing her eyes to focus on what she had concluded was not a coin, she saw its shape was not dissimilar to that of the girl guide trefoil. On the visible side, she saw a lion standing over a crown. Below that were two words, ‘For Valour’.

Unable to resist her buoyancy, she braced herself for her return the cruel world that had cast her there. As she surfaced, she pressed her hands flat against her face, then slid the residual water up and over her hair. She heard a voice squeal in mimicry of a pig, joined by another until they broke into boyish laughter that trailed off with ever increasing distance. When tears from the pain in her thigh had washed enough of the chlorine out of her eyes, she looked up and saw Mary, still wearing her smile.

Why? was all that she could think to ask.

Yer fat dyke! Mary spat, with one side of her mouth raising, then glanced over to Diane for her approval. Stepping forward and linking arms with Mary, she looked down at Barbara, her sharp face expressionless. Without a sneer, without even a cruel smile or even a word, she turned, and they left, leaving her to struggle out of the pool. They blended into the maelstrom of the late-morning visitors, augmenting those already engaged in their shopping, by the time the security staff had arrived.

Barbara shivered in the bus queue and hid behind her damp, tangled hair. Reeking of chlorine and still wet, she had not been given the opportunity or the means to wring her clothes out. Security staff who arrived at the scene could not decide whether Barbara was being truthful in her claim that she had not jumped in. Unable and unwilling to consider the facts, they had escorted her to the nearest entrance doors to the mall. They told her not to return for a month. Unable to re-enter the building, and not wanting to be anywhere but home, she walked around the outer wall until she reached the bus station. With her shoulders hunched under the weight of her shame and hurt, she waited her turn, then stepped onto the bus. Feeling the tug of the damp cotton of her blouse as