No Way Home - Jack Slater

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his seat was tilted suddenly back. His arms and legs darted out reflexively, but there was no stopping it. His grasp slipped from the shoulders of the two boys either side of him and he landed on his back. The lanky blond kid from this morning grinned down at him as some of the others laughed. Tommy slammed a fist up into the lean face, felt his second knuckle impact directly on the tip of the boy’s nose. He yelled, darting back out of reach, as Tommy rolled sideways off the upended chair.

      In the confined space, he hadn’t reached his feet when he was grabbed from behind and yanked backwards. His feet tangled with the chair, almost spilling him again. Then his right foot landed on the front edge of the chair and he pushed hard against it, driving himself backwards into his new attacker, who stumbled, letting go of the back of Tommy’s standard-issue polo shirt as he swore.

      Tommy turned the opposite way to the other boy, landing on his side and shoulder across the back of two chairs, the occupants of which had sat forward and begun to turn to see what was going on. The padded chair backs dug into his ribs, but not as badly as they would have if they had been wooden. He grabbed them with his upper hand, turning further as he got his feet under him. Someone shoved him from behind, but he righted himself and saw that, as he’d suspected, it was Lockhart who had attacked him.

      The bully was pushing himself up off the backs of the two lads he’d fallen against, struggling upright in the tight space between the rows of chairs and the feet of their occupants. Tommy only needed one foot and he didn’t care where he put it. He slammed his right foot down, the leg still slightly bent when his heel drove into the top of someone’s foot, and he launched himself forward in a dive as the person behind him howled in pain.

      Tommy’s grasping hands both caught hold of something: the right got Lockhart’s belt while the left gripped his right forearm. They went down in a tangle of chairs and legs. Tommy’s head bounced off the edge of a chair seat, but he paid it no attention, using his arms and his grip on Lockhart to power himself forward, landing on top of the larger boy, who slammed his head forward in a butt that was aimed to smash Tommy’s nose.

      His aim was way off. Tommy’s move had brought him further and higher than Lockhart had anticipated so that his forehead struck Tommy in the chest.

      It was like being hit with a hammer. It stunned his ribcage into inactivity, but survival was Tommy’s only motivation now and inactivity would not allow that. As Lockhart’s head fell back, Tommy relaxed his arms, falling flat on top of him, at the same time ducking his head so that his teeth hit Lockhart in the face.

      Quickly, Tommy opened his mouth. Snapped his jaws closed.

      Lockhart howled as his nose was caught between Tommy’s sharp front teeth. Tommy squeezed down on the warm skin and cartilage, stretching his lips wide open.

      ‘I thought we had an understanding,’ he said through his tightly clamped teeth. ‘What did I say this morning about biting your ugly nose off?’

      ‘Get off me or I’ll fucking kill you, you little bastard.’

      ‘Promises, promises.’ Tommy adjusted the grip of his teeth on the larger boy’s nose. ‘And, talking of…’

      ‘No!’ Lockhart shouted.

      Tommy bit down hard. He could feel the grease of the other kid’s nose. The give of his nostril walls against his tongue and the roof of his mouth as Lockhart howled in pain and terror. Then something wet and warm in his mouth. He hoped it wasn’t… No, he tasted the iron tang of blood. Kept on bearing down with his teeth as he shifted his right hand from under him to grasp the back of Lockhart’s neck, pulling him in so he couldn’t escape.

      Other hands were grasping and pulling at him, trying to pull him off the other boy. Lockhart’s left fist was pounding on his back, but he barely felt it. His whole awareness was focused on what was between his teeth.

      ‘Get off me! Get off me!’ Lockhart bellowed. Then he jerked upwards under Tommy, forcing him backwards. Tommy went with him. Used the opportunity to slide his arm around behind Lockhart’s neck and lock his hand over his own shoulder, clamping them tightly together as his other hand let go of his arm and came up around his head to grasp his ear.

      Tommy gripped the ear, pulling back on it hard. He felt warm blood trickling down his chin.

      ‘Tommy Gayle! Release him at once.’

      That wasn’t a kid’s voice, like all the others yelling around him. But Tommy was committed. He wasn’t going to back off now. He ground his teeth, making Lockhart howl even louder. Then a big hand gripped the back of his shirt and another got hold of his jaw, finger and thumb pressing in painfully from either side.

      ‘Let him go.’ The voice was as slow, firm and implacable as the fingers pushing into his cheeks, but Tommy was committed. There was no winning here. Not any more. But he couldn’t give in. Couldn’t show a trace of weakness or pity.

      He pulled harder on Lockhart’s left ear, twisting at the same time. Lockhart wailed. The blood flowed even more freely from his nose, dripping steadily from Tommy’s chin. Agony coursed through his cheeks and jaw.

      ‘Gayle, let go. Now.’ The warder’s voice was harder, angrier, as he held on relentlessly. ‘Give it up or I’ll break your damned jaw and where’ll that get you, d’you think?’

      Tommy saw the chance and took it. Tugging even harder on Lockhart’s ear, he opened his mouth and looked up at the warder, grinning, his chin red and dripping with blood. ‘Nowhere I haven’t been a hundred times before.’

      Pete pulled into his drive and switched off the headlights, glad to be home – and glad there was no new decoration on the garage door. He killed the engine as the front door opened, expecting Annie to come running out and greet him.

      He was surprised when, instead, it was Louise who came out, closing the door behind her and standing on the doorstep, arms folded.

      He stepped out of the car, took his briefcase from the back seat and locked the silver Ford.

      ‘Lou? What’s up?’

      Her eyes closed, her face scrunching up with emotion as her arms dropped to her sides. Then she took a breath, opened her eyes and the tears ran down her face as he dropped his briefcase and gathered her into his arms. ‘What is it, love?’

      A sob escaped from her throat, then she swallowed. ‘It’s Tommy,’ she whispered, clinging to him.

      Pete felt icy fear grip his body, freezing him in place like a living statue. ‘What about him?’

      He wanted desperately to see her face, but she clung even more tightly to him, her bead buried into his shoulder. ‘He’s… We can’t see him. I phoned a few minutes ago. He had to be there a day before they allowed visitors. Settling-in time, they said. So I phoned to arrange it for tomorrow, after school. For me and Annie. But…’ She began to cry again. Conflicting emotions battled within Pete. Love and protectiveness for Louise made him hold onto her, comfort her as best he could, while the need to know about his son raged, For God’s sake, spit it out, woman! What’s happened? But he held on, stroking her hair with one hand while she clung to him, sobbing into the shoulder of his jacket until she finally gulped, shook her head and loosed her grip around his body.

      ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘But…’

      ‘What is it, love? What’s happened?’ he asked gently.

      ‘He’s… He nearly bit some boy’s nose off. On his first day! My God, what have we raised, Pete?’

      Some of the contents of the file Simon Phillips had compiled on Tommy while searching for him last year flashed through Pete’s mind and he wondered the same thing – as he had done since reading the file, months ago. Yet, his fatherly instinct kicked in behind the doubt, pushing it down, feeding that tiny residue of pride that he would never lose. Surviving, probably, he thought. Knowing what kinds

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