Fact or Fiction? - 6

The story I wrote the other day [Here]

Was TRUTH!

Although the telling of the story was fabricated. I was at school with the lads that did the pool-table hijack and the Newkie Brown pilfering, but I was never in a position to see such goings-on. The teacher, the science class and the position of the class in the building - all true, but we never had opportunity to see out of the windows to that extent.

I’ll stay with the science class for this story, too.

Right at the beginning of the year, us pupils lined up outside the biology class. Mr Howe, a small man with a weird haircut (similar to the picture of Fester Addams from The Addams Family Values film) came out to the two lines of his victims for the coming year. He made us file into class and directed us to the seat we’d use for the rest of the year. He made us sit boy-girl-boy-girl.

We were all socially awkward when it came to the opposite sex and I remember none of us spoke a word to the person sitting next to us for at least a term and a half. That strategy worked then, Mr Howe!

I had just started acknowledging the lad that sat next to me and I noticed something a little odd. I looked… couldn’t work it out. I glanced away but I just couldn’t help myself. There was something not quite right and I had to look again.

Of course, you couldn’t just stare at the boy next to you. That would mean you loved him and people would talk, tease and embarrass you.

But there really was something not quite right.

I kept glancing to the side to take a look to see if I could figure it out.

“Stop looking at me,” he growled.

“There’s something different about you,” I said.

“Stop looking!”

Science classes were always double-lessons so when the bell went, Mr Howe left the room to make sure pupils leaving the other classes behaved. If he stood in the hall, everyone went to their next lesson in absolute silence. He had a tough reputation and most pupils feared him. In fact, such was the fear that few bragged about not being worried about him – just in case he found out.

I took advantage of Mt Howe’s absence and stared at the lad next to me. I couldn’t put my finger on it. What was it?

A moment of clarity hit me and I realised why the lad looked so different without there being anything outstanding about his appearance.

He had no eyebrows!

When realisation hit me, I gasped and pointed. I didn’t say anything, but the lad looked up from his work and glared at me.

I understood the meaning of the glare – ‘Shut up! Don’t tell anyone!’

“You’ve got no eyebrows,” I whispered.

Mr Howe came back into the classroom. He always moved silently and tried to take us by surprise. I shut up and tried to not let him see I was giggling.

The lad glared some more and I giggled.

By the end of the lesson I’d earned the legendary 350 word essay on concentration as punishment. To be delivered first thing the next morning.

Sometimes I thought he must give out so many essays in a day that he’d never miss just one, but common sense warned me - do NOT fall into the trap of fooling yourself, he could give out hundreds of the essays as punishment and he’d STILL miss even one. He came to find you the following day and you were in worse strife if you’d forgotten. Even if you’d not been to school the following day, you were expected to hand it in the day after. No one got away with it - No ONE!

One of the reasons I received the dreaded punishment was because of the explanation.

The lad, (name withheld to protect the ‘innocent’), had found an almost empty petrol (gas/fuel) canister. He thought he’d struck it lucky. A metal canister, heavy-duty with petrol in it too – win-win as far as a teenage lad was concerned.

He told me he didn’t know how much petrol was in the canister and he shook it a bit and still couldn’t gauge the amount. Then he had the bright idea of taking a look.

He couldn’t see all the way into the canister, so he…

Struck a match…

Yes, he did.

He struck a match near a petrol container and held it close enough so he could see inside it.

When he finished telling me how he’d lost his eyebrows, I burst out laughing. I clapped my hands over my mouth but it was too late - WAY too late. Mr Howe had heard me and he doled out the 350 word essay on concentration.

To both of us.

Fortunately, the lad deemed the punishment worth it for the laugh.

After that lesson, we got on great and whenever I saw him, we said hello and had time for a chat.

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