‘What a joy’ I thought with resignation. It was just my luck to have it first thing in the morning every Tuesday.

  When it came to history the two of us had never gotten along. No matter how hard I tried I just couldn't get myself interested. I mean, everything we learnt about had already happened. What was the point of learning about it now? It was over with.

  Sam and I soon arrived at our class after only a couple of minutes, having already been nearby when the bell first rang. We quickly took our seats in our usual bright blue plastic chairs that surrounded the far left table. Our backs pressed against one of the murky yellow walls covered with information about certain historical events that I had never bothered to read. As we sat down and I got my books and pens out of my bag a sudden sense of vertigo smashed through me.

  The room started to spin around me, slowly picking up speed and soon followed by as sense of nausea that grew stronger and stronger. I shut my eyes tightly, a groan leaving my throat as I forcibly tried to shut out my surroundings. Just as I felt I was at my limit, with no other option than to throw up the pitiful amount of food I still had stored in my stomach from yesterday, through my closed eyes, I felt my surroundings start to slow down, along with the apparent nausea that came with it.

  After waiting a couple of seconds, focusing on my breathing to ensure my stomach was under control, I opened my eyes. The moment I did so I was blinded by the luminescent lights that hung from above, their constant buzzing seeming even louder than usual and worsening my pounding migraine. I looked around, seeing if anyone had noticed my bizarre episode. Thankfully no one did. Wiping a hand across my forehead and hair, I noticed a thin layer of sweat that had built up across it despite the biting cold I had felt all morning.

  “Hey, you alright? You look a little peaky?” I turned to my side to see Sam looking towards me in worry.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. I think I’m just a little ill. Probably got a cold or flu or something. Just my luck, huh.” I shrugged nonchalantly, suddenly filled with a sense of exhaustion that replaced the previous nausea and vertigo.

  Sam simply peered at me with an unblinking stare for what felt like a lifetime in response. His mouth drew into a thin line and his eyebrows scrunched so tight they were almost touching. As if trying to figure out if I was telling the truth. Apparently satisfied with his findings, his features eventually relaxed.

  “If you're sure. Just make sure to stay the hell away from me. No need for you to drag me down with you.” He joked, leaning back away and avoiding the swat I had aimed at his shoulder.

  I smiled back, amused at his antics before continuing to bring out all my stationary, doing my best to ignore how awful I was already starting to feel once again while waiting for the teacher, Mr Walker, to arrive. Which he did only a couple of minutes later, bringing to a start the worst lesson I had ever had to sit through.

  As I mentioned, history was already my least favourite subject, followed closely by geography and maths. Add to that a constant banging headache that seemed to worsen with Mr Walker’s inane rambling and a sense of nausea that seemed to come and go like the passing of the tide and you can imagine how awful I felt. By the end of the lesson, as Sam and I were getting ready to head to our next class, I truly felt like I was dying. And with the way Sam was looking at me, I probably looked like it too.

  “Mate you should really go get yourself checked out. You look like you're dying,” he stated, right on cue. “If your skin was any paler it would look translucent.”

  “I’ll be alright, I’ll just power through till the end of the day. I can't imagine I can get much worse.” I said dismissively and with an amount of confidence, I didn’t truly feel.

  As if planned beforehand, I felt the sudden build-up of a cough in the centre of my chest start to form before it was fiercely ejected a few seconds later. My breathing shortened and a dull ache started to grow in strength in my chest with each sickening wheeze and hack I was forced to let out, leaving my throat feeling raw and scarred. In my debilitated state, I tried to quieten the noise with the crux of my arm but had no such luck, unable to block the repugnant noises I released that could no doubt be heard from outside the classroom.

  This carried on for what felt like minutes but couldn’t have been more than one. By the end, my throat was burning in agony and my lungs were screaming for respite. The metallic taste of blood made itself known at the back of my throat, the taste growing in strength with each cough.

  As the phlegm-filled wheezes finally started to slow, I took a series of short, shallow breaths, doing my best to not agitate my lungs further. Once I finally managed to calm down I looked back up through teary eyes to see Sam, half out of his seat, looking at me in worry.

  “Really I’m fine. Like I said, I’m just ill. I’ll probably be better by lunch.” I whispered, my voice raspy and grated.

  It didn’t take a genius to see Sam didn’t quite share my level of confidence. He went to open his mouth before deciding against it as he reluctantly went back to grabbing his stationary and bag with a shake of his head, muttering something under his breath. The words stubborn and fool were the only ones I heard.

  Fast forward two more lessons later, double mathematics to be specific, and I realised how wrong I was. The constant cold that had sunk into my bones seemed to have doubled in strength to a glacial chill, causing my body to be incapable of anything but shivering erratically despite having sat down directly by the radiator. The migraine too had blown in proportion, making any sound above a whisper equivalent to a jackhammer; not ideal in a school environment to say the least. I felt as if I was becoming delirious, which when mixed with the occasional bouts of vertigo made my surroundings feel almost dream-like.

  By the time the class was coming to a close, my head was resting firmly against the solid wood table as I counted the seconds until it would be over. Letting out a cheer in celebration when I heard the bell screech once more, signifying the start of lunch. Or at least I would have if it didn’t almost knock me out in the process. As I sat there, motionless, Sam had to all but drag me out of my chair. His arm wrapped around my waist, allowing me to lean on him for support as we headed to the cafeteria for lunch. It was times like these when I could have sworn he was an angel in disguise.

  “That's it, I'm not asking anymore. You're going to go to the nurses pronto, if not the hospital. You’re starting to get me bloody worried mate.” he said seriously, no longer in the mood for jokes.

  Usually, I would have simply declined. Instead heading back home to rest by myself until whatever I had eventually passed, having always hated asking for or receiving help, even from qualified medical personnel. However, with the way I felt I was starting to think that this might have been something a tad more serious than just the common flu.

  “You're right,” I mumbled as I stared at the moving floor beneath me. “I’ll go to the nurses. But first let's go to the cafeteria. I really need to get some food in me. I haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

  As I did my best to control my breathing, which was still coming out in short rapid bursts, I could tell that Sam wanted to argue. Although based on the fact we soon changed directions and started heading towards the cafeteria I assumed he agreed that I needed to eat.

  We entered the cafeteria with surprising ease, everyone around us giving us plenty of space, along with a handful of wary glances as if I was somehow carrying a deadly plague. Although, with how I felt that couldn’t be ruled out as a possibility. Sam, in a surprising feat of dexterity and strength, grabbed both of us a lunch tray while still all but carrying me, filling them up quickly as we marched along in sync with the rest of the student body. Who monotonously marched forward through the line as if they were zombies.

  Once we received our food, which with a glance seemed to be an attempt at a cottage pie. We looked around, searching for a free table. A difficult task with how small the school had decided to make the cafeteria. A room that seemed to only be able to fit half the student body at a time. Thankfully, it seemed my luck was finally turning around as we, or more specifically Sam, was able to spot a free table near the far end wall. A table that was as far away as possible from the entrance that continued to spew forward an almost indefinite number of students.

  As we sat down, or slumped in my case, I looked towards the lunch tray Sam set delicately in front of me. Immediately I realised how terrible this idea might have been. Even on a good day the idea of a school lunch did nothing but evoke resignation and disappointment, an impressive feat saying it was usually the only meal I actually ate in a day. However, when ill, all I felt when staring towards the gruel-like meal placed before me was a mixture of revulsion and dread.

  While I stared in disgust at the substance the school dared to call food, pushing it around from side to side with my fork, a loud sigh came from in front carrying a tinge of annoyance. “Adam, I swear to god. Stop acting like a petulant child and eat, you need the nutrients and energy.”

  “Whatever you say, mum.” I drawled sarcastically, “Don’t blame me then when it comes back up and I aim myself towards that precious coat of yours”.

  “Eat.”

  Knowing he was right I let out a depressed sigh, steeling my nerves while I did so in preparation to try and keep this food down, a herculean task. I ate with a focus I rarely displayed, as if my very life was on the life; which it basically was. My social life that was. If I threw up in front of almost the entire school then I would literally become a social pariah, even more so than I already was.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  As I got halfway through, feeling worse and worse with each methodical bite I took, and prepared to call it quits, I heard a voice echo from behind me and pass through the dense fog my mind was currently surrounded by. A snide, obnoxious voice that I knew all too well. Reluctantly I turned around, facing the group of three who stood only a few metres away. Specifically the teenager who stood in the centre with a mocking smirk hanging on his face.

  “Well, well, well, look who we have here. If it isn’t the prince and the pauper. I thought I could smell you all the way back here.” His voice boomed to the two other students flanking his side, garnering the attention of the surrounding students in the process. His smirk which was plastered onto his face growing wider as he did so.

  “Piss off Matthew. Do you really have nothing better to do with your fucking time!” Sam swore angrily. Something that due to his family he rarely did.

  “Come now Samael” Matthew responded, knowing just how much Sam hated his full name. “Is that any way for a posh boy like you to speak? Better be careful, wouldn’t want to get any blood on your designer clothes now would you?”

  At this point, thanks to the volume at which Matthew spoke, the majority of the people in the cafeteria had now shifted their attention towards us. Something which only seemed to spur Matthew's actions further. Showcased in how he slammed his palm down hard against the metal table, worsening my headache and making me wince in pain. Something that wasn’t hidden from Matthews' narrowed eyes.

  “What's the matter? Is little Adam not feeling too well? Does the lil baby need a nap?“ The condescension dripped from each word he spoke, trying to rile me up and doing a damn good job in doing so.

  At this point, everyone in the cafeteria was looking this way. Looking on in amusement at what was taking place with many openly laughing along with Matthew. I felt my face begin to heat up, which if not for the embarrassment and anger surging within me would have been a welcome change to the freezing cold I had felt all day.

  I stared towards him in rage, seeing his solid frame leaning down from above my seated position, looking down on me in mockery with that smug smile on his lips. My height being one of my biggest insecurities was something Matthew knew all too well and something he mocked me for at any chance he got. Just like Sam, I had known Matthew since we were young back at the nursery, with him being just as much of a prick back then as he was now, bullying and tormenting Sam at every chance he got. Back then Matthew and I would fight almost every day, finding any excuse possible to do so. Sometimes we would not even bother to do that.

  Unfortunately, as we got older the difference in our sizes and strength became more and more apparent. Until it got to a point where I was no longer able to even put up a decent fight against him, let alone win. Since then I had tried my best to avoid Matthew as much as possible, which seemed to have only made him even more insufferable as the years went on.

  “Fuck off Matt, don’t you have anything better to do? Like I don’t know, trying to pass a single fucking subject, you dense piece of shit!” I said in anger, clenching my teeth agonisingly hard as my migraine doubled in strength from the volume of my voice.

  To everyone else, Matthew seemed unaffected by my retort, bored even. However, if you looked closely you would notice the way his eyes narrowed even further or the way his veins along his neck seemed to pulse in intensity. After all, just like he knew my weaknesses, I knew his. For instance, his insecurities over his failing grades.

  “Of course, you would respond with such vulgarity. Although I don’t know what I expected from filthy street trash like you. Street trash just like your father.” Mathew loudly spoke, knowing the perfect way to further anger me.

  “Shut the fuck up you prick!” I raged, feeling the veins in my face pulse with heat as I slammed against the table. Too angry to notice the mountain of pain that extended from my hand and up my arm. An action that, while made a few students jump in shock, left Matthew completely unbothered.

  “Look at that temper. I mean it makes sense you've got such a temper. After all, if I grew up with that drunk you call a father I would be pissed at the world as well. Honestly, your mother got lucky. At least in death she managed to get away.”

  A pin drop could be heard in the silence that followed his vicious mocking. Yet only after a few moments sniggers and quiet laughter could be heard from all around, with more and more joining in each second before a dam seemed to have been broken and the room burst in noise. The majority of which was a symphony of laughs directed at me with Matthew and his gang of followers at the forefront.

  All I wanted to do at that moment was throw myself at Matthew. To swing and thrash as hard as I could and wipe that sneer from across his face. Yet I didn’t. While I’ve always had a temper I was never dumb. Even as a kid I always knew what the consequences of my actions were going to be. It was just at the time I simply did not bother to care. Not this time, I knew what would happen if we fought, what with Matthew standing almost a foot taller with at least twenty kilograms on me. Most of which was hard, dense muscle, one of the benefits of being on the football team. So I just sat there, seething as the surrounding students all looked on in excitement at Matthews’s cruel remarks, enjoying the entertainment before them.

  ‘Coward.’ A voice inside my head spat in disgust, 'Don’t pretend you're being smart. You're just scared. Afraid of getting hurt and being embarrassed.' The voice remarked with vitriol.

  I tried to deny it, to block out that inner voice. But in truth, I knew it was right. I was scared. For a second I wondered when it happened. When I had stopped fighting back, allowing pricks like Matthew to insult my father and simply accept it without complaint.

  It was at that moment, as I looked around the cafeteria and the many faces that encircled me, all reflecting a mixture of mirth and cruel amusement, that I saw her. Helen. Near the edge of the circling crowd along with her friends. Standing out from the sea of excited faces with a blank expression, her eyes boring towards me with unbridled focus, as if burning a hole straight through me. Seeing that my crush was witnessing this entire humiliation display, my embarrassment, which I thought couldn’t get any higher, seemed to skyrocket.

  I felt sick to my stomach and not just because of the illness. It was at that moment that the embarrassment I felt seemed to overtake my fear, causing me to make a rash decision. To decide to fight back, regardless of the consequences.

  Just as the laughter soon died down and Matthew seemed prepared to insult me further, never one to miss a chance to kick someone when they’re down, I slammed my palms against the table. I rose to a sudden stand, using my hands to help keep my balance from the onrush of vertigo I received from such an action. Everyone froze in shock, the onlookers in the crowd, Sam who had been preparing to jump to my defence, and of course Matthew. Who’s expression was warped into one of bewilderment, clearly not having expected such a move.

  As I stood to my full height my migraine only increased in intensity, forcing me to stifle a groan and almost collapse back down in pain. Along with that, my vision began to blur and shake, with everything I saw covered in moving dots of black and grey. I ignored it all. Too lost in my rage. Instead, I directed my attention back towards Matthew, the smirk back on his face.

  ‘Not for long.’ I thought maliciously.

  “It’s funny that you would want to talk about parents,” I suddenly said, grabbing everyone's attention. “I mean, how many men has your whore of a mother slept with now? Sixteen? Seventeen? It’s almost impressive how big of a slut she is. She must have fucked at least half the blokes in town. Although it’s not like your dad’s any better. Didn't he get arrested by the police for causing a disturbance at that brothel in the town centre only a couple of months ago?”

  Immediately the laughter of everyone around us that had just begun to die down came back with a vengeance. Only this time it was no longer directed towards me. Matthew’s face froze in surprise once more before realisation set in over what I said. Instantly his face turned a bright red as his body began to shake and he had his fists clenched by his side, as if ready to attack at any moment.

  “You son of a bitch!” He yelled, his voice no longer containing any signs of mockery or cruel enjoyment. “Let's fucking go! Unless you're too much of a pussy to actually fight me”

  He backed away from the table and moved towards the open area a couple of metres away. The surrounding students shuffling away while still keeping an enclosed circle around us. “Come on then! It’s too late to back out now!” He impatiently yelled.

  Knowing there was no way out, at least not without destroying any semblance of pride I still possessed, I meandered away from the bench, doing my best to stay steady on my feet. While I did so Sam came up beside me. Able to get out of his seat at a much quicker pace than I did.

  “Don’t do this Adam.” He whispered urgently into my ear. “You look like shit! As if you could get knocked out by a gust of wind. If you fight him he’s going to kill you!” As I turned to face him I saw the look of panic etched on his face.

  “I don't have a choice. And who knows, maybe I can get a lucky punch or something.” I whispered back, my sudden surge of confidence already starting to crumble as feelings of terror started to surface about what was to come.

  Before he could reply I walked past him towards Matthew, looking past the crowd in the hopes of finding a teacher or someone of authority to put a stop to this fight. But it seemed my luck was just as rotten as usual, seeing none in sight. Instead, my eyes were instantly drawn to where Helen stood, still along the edge of the crowd. As our eyes met I saw her flash a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. I looked back towards Matthew, doing my best to focus on anything but how I felt, how every part of my body was screaming in pain and fatigue with each step I took. As if I had already been in a fight moments prior. One I had resoundingly lost.

  “You’re going to regret talking so much shit” Matthew spat vehemently, his anger once more replaced with a sick sense of amusement and cockiness. No doubt already imagining how this fight would conclude.

  I simply shook my head, unable to even speak in fear of losing the small amount of food I had previously eaten. Seeing that nothing more was going to be said, we both raised our fists in preparation. One thing I noticed was how at ease he seemed to appear and how awkward I felt. What with it being many years since I had last gotten into a fight. The atmosphere stilled. A sense of apprehension settled over the crowd as everyone waited for the fight to start. At this point my head was screaming in pain, clouding all of my other senses with my vision fading rapidly, leaving me struggling to see even half a metre in front.

  Suddenly Matthew took a quick step forward, his arm swinging towards the side of my head in what felt like an instant. In my foggy state, I attempted to step back but found my feet were far too sluggish, tangling themselves together and forcing me into a stumble. Allowing me to only barely dodge the punch Matthew threw. Seeing the first punch had missed Matthew showed no surprise, merely taking another step forward to close the distance, his arms still held high and strong in front of him. Creating an intimidating figure though I was loathed to admit it.

  Realising I was screwed if I didn’t even attempt to fight back I threw my left arm out widely. No technique or style to be seen with it looking more like a mad flail than any kind of punch. However, it seemed even that was simply too much for my body to handle as not even one second later my body seemed to lose all its strength, causing me to collapse like a puppet without its strings. The last thing I saw before I fell into oblivion, through the searing pain and my blurring, twisting vision was Sam rushing towards me in panic, breaking through the row of spectators seemingly oblivious to his frantic movements. That and Matthew who dodged my pathetic attempt of a punch and closed in, swinging his arm once again towards me. Only this time I was unable to dodge. Then, just as I saw his fist get closer and closer until it overtook my entire vision, it all went black.