The school was big, come to think of it, enormously big. Two thousand eight hundred people, roaming around this gigantic secondary school, meant there were four hundred people in every single year from seven to eleven, and eight hundred people in the sixth form. There were many teachers, as they had to teach the pupils assorted facts about the designated subject. Some were very kind & some were snappy and horrid as crocodiles. There were forty buildings, each consisting of 6 rooms for assorted objects. They needed to make a map out of the school, as it was so big that sixth formers would get lost in there. Still, the “you are here maps here”, similar to the ones in staggeringly big shopping centres which had a huge number of floors, confused even the cleverest of year sevens. This huge school was as gigantic as Welwyn Garden City, and believe me, that was big.
Unfortunately the buildings had a nasty shade of yellow ochre on the doors of each and every classrooms and walls, and it helped the old atmosphere of the buildings which were old and crumbling as the school opened in early 1331. Thankfully, classrooms were in good shape but messy, but the entire science block had to be rebuilt because a silly chemistry teacher with a Bunsen burner burnt it with a roaring flame. The ICT rooms however had computers with Microsoft Windows 3.1, one of the oldest operating systems and the computer screens were not Led’s, but old things built in 1960 which were supposed to be tiny televisions. The computers were Pentium 86 and were slower than tortoises which were drunk, and the software was prehistoric.
The displays in every classroom were crumbling, and pieces of paper were ripped and had funny pictures drawn on them, and chewing gum stuck on unfortunate pupils who were on the crumbling displays. They were last replaced in 1958. You could see loads of spiders scuttling around the classrooms, and freaked out a lot of people. It was a good school though, 69% of pupils got As to Cs in their GCSEs, and it was in a nice place in a school. A big one that is, so you just had to fit in.
Two thousand seven hundred and ninety nine people fitted it, but there was one left over. This Year 7 just did not know what to do to fit in with the rest of people. He was never accepted, not just because of his dress, but because of his loner, reserved, personality. He was a tall skinny boy with a buttoned up blazer and a lengthy tie. He was a boffin though, but deep down he was greedy and nasty. I hated this kid, because he didn’t give out his sweets and crisps, because he was a greedy boy, he always said no. That was his favourite word, and he could say it in eleven languages. The Year 9s hated him, so they made him give them his crisps or stole the packet.
He had green Granny Smith apple eyes, and he was a brunette. His hair was very messy, and his face was dirty. He was as thin as a piece of spaghetti, so older kids battered him, and he came home every evening with a black eye and fist marks. He also had goofy teeth like a rabbit.
Unfortunately, he was not known for his taste of food and music. He had hundreds of songs of emo and country music, and when his only friend invited him for a McDonalds, he would refuse after thinking for a nanosecond. He ate like a rabbit; he did not eat food that most kids would eat; pizza, curry, fish and chips and burgers. He would happily munch on a lettuce leaf and say he was stuffed, because he had a miniature stomach.
His favourite subject was Geography with a tremendously dull teacher. He would be very disappointed if he got 99% on his test. His dad would scold him if he got just a single question wrong, on any test, which was bad because he was not good at P.E, and there would be a P.E exam next week. He had tiny muscles, and he would get beaten up by a little nursery kid, which was unfortunate because his cousin, who was three, would beat him to a pulp. He never played sports anyway. He hated sports, unlike most boys. And to top that all up, he never took baths, so he was smelly as a waste man.
One rainy, overcast, dull February-like Monday morning, after a horrid Sunday where his little cousin who smashed him in the wall, he took the bus to school, with no-one beside him, as usual, since he didn’t take a shower. When he arrived, a few year 10s tripped him over, and he fell head first into the pavement. He was very annoyed, and wanted to fight the gang of year 10s, but he thought he would be snapped in half by the year 10s, because he was a lanky boy. He went through the school gates, and had a risky frisky walk to his locker. He didn’t know what was going to come to him. Maybe a short Jacques-like boy would throw him from the car park to the astro turf, or the M25, where cars, motorbikes, trucks and lorries were rushing along, hoping that they would not get held up in a traffic jam. He arrived to his locker, relieved that no-one would tease him, but he ran into a few other Year 7s. They had fitted in very well.
“What will they do to me”, he thought.
He approached the people slowly, and then, one spoke.
“What are you wearing”, said Waz
Dragibus Smithers was too shy to reply. Waz repeated
“What are you wearing? OK, let me teach you how to fit in, you’re a loner.”
Dragibus was too shy to reply. He did not want to fit in; he wanted to do his own thing.
“Number one, unbutton your blazer.” Said James , Waz’s friend.
Dragibus timidly refused, but with that James ripped the buttons off his school blazer. Dragibus started to blubber like a baby, but James , Waz and Jacques didn’t have any of it. All of them had the same thought: “He is an attention seeker, a cry-baby”.
The three boys were not smartly dressed; they were scruffy, but cool, and always chatting to other boys and cool girls. They had five yellow stripes on their “green background and yellow diagonal stripes”, their shirts were not tucked in, ever, even inside the school and their blazers weren’t on. They had dozens of uniform slips and late slips, so in their first term they already had quite a lot of Saturday detentions. Dragibus did not want any after schools in his school courier; otherwise his legs would be snapped by his dad, like a crocodile’s jaws. He just wanted to sit in the library, and read a book or research anything that wasn’t homework. The cool boys needed to make him fit in so that the whole twenty-eight thousand people could make this school the best in Waterbeach. But it was going to be a long run, so Jacques shortened Dragibus tie, for the start of the long run.
Next it was lunch-break. Dragibus ran straight into the lunch-queue to get a little Brussels sprout; that was sufficient for him. As I said, he had a very bad taste of food. After that, he went to computer club to play Runescape. He was the highest level in everything, as he played Runescape 12 hours a day, seven days a week. He woke up at 4:00 in the morning, played until 8:00, and when he came back he played to midnight – that summed up that he got know sleep. James thought it was why he was always moody. One December afternoon, Dragibus went out, for the very first time in his life (except to go to school), to get his blazer fixed. James lived a few doors away from Dragibus, so he sneaked into the house and looked at Dragibus’s work on Runescape. He had £100,000 in Runescape money. James was horrified to see a sad person’s computer. Dragibus was the person with the most money in the whole of Runescape. So James pulled the cable out of the mains switch, and some hundred grand dissolved into nothing. When Dragibus came home he saw his blank black screen, and he started to snivel. He cried and wept and sobbed a river. All his work had gone. He was aghast to see his money went back to £500. He smashed the plates in sadness, and bashed the computer but the computer did not receive any damage. Dragibus broke his hand in the process.
The next day, Dragibus went back to school with his blazer buttoned, but it was the same all over again, Waz ripped the buttons off. Dragibus started to cry again.
“I don’t think he gets the message,” said Waz.
“And what the heck this? His tie is nineteen stripes,” admitted Jacques.
“Un-tuck that shirt! You’re outside!” shouted James
Dragibus cried “No!”, but you could not argue with those boys. Jacques tripped Dragibus over. He didn’t like that word for other people. Luckily, Dragibus started to get the message, so he un-tucked his shirt and shortened his tie. Unfortunately Mr Smith came by, and gave Dragibus a uniform slip. It was his first one, and he resumed his crying. But Waz shouted at him, and he stopped in an instant.
It was going to be a horrid evening for Dragibus – he got into trouble for the first time in his life. His father wouldn’t be happy, and indeed he wasn’t. “Hey, you there. What’s this?” screamed Dad “Uniform slip. You need to get one, it makes you cool,” replied Dragibus. “Cool isn’t everything, child. You do what I say, mister,” exclaimed Dad. “Shut up,” and then, Dragibus stomped up the stairs to his room.
After that, Dad cooked some food, but he wasn’t prepared to what was going to happen next. The pot of soup steamed into the ceiling, and the meat was sizzling hot. Dad could cook very well, he never cooked ready made meals, he thought of them as lazy people makers. He called Dragibus to dinner. Dragibus rushed down the creaky stairs, and ran straight into the freshly set up granite table. Dad gave him a slight bit, as Dragibus was skinny, but Dragibus gobbled it rapidly, and asked for more. Dad was taken aback, so he gave Dragibus as much as the first plate. But Dragibus consumed it faster than before. So Dad gave him a lot more than the first plate. But Dragibus ate it all up. Dad was knocked for six. He was very proud, and ordered Dragibus to the scales. The dusty display showed three digits – 22.5. He had put on a lot of weight. In fact, fifteen kilos. Dad threw him in the air in happiness and excitement!
The next morning, Dragibus dressed up a bit differently to the previous months. His blazer was unbuttoned, his shirt was not tucked in, and his tie was shorter than ever. He sneaked past his dad to the door, and screamed “Have a nice day!” Just as normal, he sat on the bus, but when Jacques, James and Waz saw, they were gob smacked. They had never saw Dragibus like that without them editing is dress. So they congratulated him. They went to form; the teacher complimented Dragibus on his dress. But in ICT, everyone was surprised. Mrs Jones talked about PowerPoint, but Dragibus interrupted by shouting “You’re boring!” Mrs Jones was fuming! She shouted the loudest she ever did, and gave the new Dragibus a detention, his first one. Dragibus wasn’t upset, he was downright proud, and so were James , Jacques and Waz. He chewed on some chewing gum, and spat it out at the unfortunate teacher. He stormed out of the classrooms before the bell went, to get his lunch. He pushed in front of a few other Year 7s, and bought all the sweets. He devoured them all up, and many scholars were very annoyed.
When Dragibus came home, it got worse every day, once for tripping over a teacher, and the next day for breaking all the hockey sticks, the next day for messing the whole music block, after, for poking people with knives, and the subsequent day, for bringing alcohol to school. The teachers couldn’t cope, and Dad was enraged! His son had turned into a thug. He couldn’t re-discipline him anymore. Dad nearly cried, his son got obese and foul, and he had the worst reputation in the school. James , Jacques and Waz weren’t responsible for any of his behaviour; they taught him how to fit in, not to be a brute!
One June morning, Dragibus saw a drug dealer. He rushed straight to the hidden stall, and was overwhelmed by the nasty drugs. “That school is going to suffer,” thought Dragibus. He bought some bright marijuana cigarettes and hid it in his blazer pocket. He arrived at school, and verified whether teachers or tale tellers were around him. He pulled out his 15 brightly coloured cigarettes and a box of matches. He stuffed one into Waz’s mouth, and struck the match, and set the marijuana smoking. Waz could not get the cigarette out, and he didn’t want to tell a teacher, or Dragibus would call him a waste man. He did say it to James and Jacques, but they did try the disgusting cigarette in the end. They spat it out just in time before the head came. Dragibus was going to throw the papered drug away, but it was too late. The head dragged him ear to ear to his offices, and bellowed so loud he nearly deafened himself.
James , Waz and Jacques, fell so sick, that they went to hospital. All thanks to a boy who they tried to make fit in. They were not proud of their work. They jumbled a boy around, and turned him to a hooligan. They didn’t mean it intentionally – that was the first thought of their head.
Six O’clock. The phone rang. Dad picked it up. It was the school. The head, was crying in that phone call – his school was going to be shut down. He blamed the boffin – Dragibus. A boffin, that is? No, it wasn’t a boffin – it was broadcasted that the boffin was the worst school kid in England. Dad and Mum went to the head’s office, worried about what would happen.
“So why have we been called here? My son is the gentlest, most reserved boy” asked Dad.
“Gentlest? I beg you’re pardon! He is the roughest yob in the county!” cried the Head.
“Give me some examples. I don’t trust you, liar,” replied Mum.
“He is accused of tripping over a teacher, breaking all the hockey sticks, messing the whole music block, stabbing people with knives, for bringing alcohol to school, and that episode with the awful marijuana!”
“Marijuana,” screamed Dad. “Are you making fun at me? Are you having laugh? He is much too young to buy such things, liar.”
“He did, he did! You can even ask his friends!” admitted the Head
“Well I believe you,” replied Dad
“Do you think he would get expelled” asked Mum
“Unfortunately, I have to consider that – he is the worst pupil in the County,” said the Head.
Dragibus’s parents were petrified. Their son turned right round in personality.
Dragibus was very upset when his parents had a serious chat with him. He couldn’t stop school now – he had lots more violent things to do! He planned a grenade in the school, to kill his enemies! Immediately, a school van parked in the rocky driveway. The long-limbed driver knocked on the door, and discussed about the boy’s school moments. The next hour, Dragibus was thrown into the van, and looked out of the window with tears in his eyes. He was off to military school, never to be seen again.