New Short Story – The End of the School Day

This new short story is a fictional piece, that will be a part of a larger story in the future of VuVu Publications. At the moment, this odd little story will be a free little read for anybody who wants to wonder what will come after this little tale. For now, enjoy?

The End of the School Day

I walked out of the school, and looked for my brother in his little car. It was a present from our Aunty, when she bought her new car, she gave her old car to my older brothers. However, my youngest brother is scared of driving on this tight and narrow road. Bumpy and with huge potholes, it’s a bumpy ride. As I walk out, I see a ghost of my past.

My bully. The boy who called me fat, or pig when I was in school. There he is, picking up his little sister. I am her teaching assistant, as a part of getting experience in my teacher training course. She is nice, and yet he is just awful.

“Bye, Miss Grantham.”

“Bye Frankie,” I say, as her brother has a sly smile on his face, suddenly appear.

He smirks, as they walk away from the school. I try to keep smiling for his sister, because she doesn’t know what her scumbag brother is really like. I wonder if I should tell her. I see my brother’s car bobble and slowly drive up to the side of the road, and I am happy to see him.

I cross the road, and open the my passenger door, “You alright?”

“Yeah, it was an alright day, until the end.”

“Hurry up with your seatbelt, I don’t want to get stuck in the traffic.”

“I am,” I say, as buckle clicks and he immediately pulls away from the little school.

As we drive away, we pass Frankie and her brother, walking back to their home, I presume, “What happened at the end of the day?”

My brother is quite a straight-forward, intelligent man, who is not scared by much, “You see that boy there?”

“Yeah, what about him?”

“Well I teach his sister.”

“And?”

“He was the boy that would tease me, in school last year.”

“Why, did he fancy you?”

“No, he like called me piggy, and said I was big.”

“But you are not, so was he just a weird creep.”

We turn down the hill and now we are driving away from them, “No, he was like bullying me.”

“Why did you not tell me about this?”

“I told mum and dad, and they sorted it.”

“Do you want me to break his face?”

“No, he is not worth it. Honestly, he is just a dick. And apparently he is a drug dealer now.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, he has tried to sell something to Jessica before.”

My brother listened to the story about my bully. His anger clear, as the conversation continued all the way home, “Don’t worry about him, he is worthless, and just focus on your teacher training course. You don’t have to worry about him anymore, my favourite sister.”

“I am your only sister.” I replied, as we left the car on that Wednesday evening. We walked inside the family home, and I thought nothing of it. But sometimes, you just remember certain conversations, because of what happens afterwards.

By the time I got to Monday, it was like a weird delusion, as my brother was coming to pick me up again, but this time from College. I had Linda teach me on a Monday afternoon, before going to train practically at the school, on a Wednesday and a Thursday. Ever since my brother started working from home, getting lifts home has been a great perk for me, even if he moans about it sometimes.

“You won’t believe what I found out today.”

“Instead of me asking what you found out today, just tell me.”

“You know that boy I was talking about last week?”

“What boy?”

“You know, the one that bullied me in school.”

“Oh, scumbag. Has he caused you any more problems because I can turn this car around and…”

“No, no, no, he’s dead.”

“What, really?”

“Yeah, they think he committed suicide because it looks like he jumped of the railway bridge, and onto the train tracks, in front of a train.”

“Wow, which bridge?”

“I think it is the one, leading up to Goss Lane.”

“Really, wow, I don’t know what to say.”

“Yeah, I did not think he would do that.”

“Maybe he didn’t. Maybe his drug dealer friends did it to him, and tried to cover it up. It seems weird, to be honest, for a drug dealer to kill themselves.”

“I am only telling you what I heard.”

“I know, are you upset about it?”

“No, why would I be upset?” “I don’t know. Well, I guess you won’t have to worry about him bullying you anymore, at least.”

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