Uncle Song
Outside, the dismissal bell rings. Footsteps shuffle in the distance and then grow louder as the students make their way towards the gates. Their voices are muffled; it sounds as though they are all saying the same thing over and over again. “You’re lying,” Simon says softly to Patrick, giving him a chance to admit it.
Patrick shrugs. “Don’t want to believe me? Fine. But that guy is such a hypocrite. Going around talking about God like he knows anything. You know the only reason he’s a speaker is because it’s the only job he can get now? Nobody wants to hire an ex-convict. So even if he wants to do anything else he can’t. He needs the money.”
Simon watches Patrick turn back to the mirror and unhook his school pin from his collar. The realization sinks, snatching the breath from his lungs. Nothing can change Uncle Song, not even God. Was this why Uncle Song wouldn’t speak to him just now? Did he think it was better to ignore him altogether than just admit he couldn’t stop being who he was, no matter how hard he tried? As he considers these questions, a dizzying anger slowly fills him. He brings his fingers to his neck and begins to loosen the knot on his tie. It’s a relief to see it come undone and slide off his collar. Next he pushes off his shoes and peels off his socks before slipping his feet into the shoes again.
Patrick watches him curiously. “You’re not going anywhere after school,” he concludes. “You never go out. Always go straight home to your mommy.”
“Patrick, shut up. I’m warning you.”
“Warning me you’ll do what?” Patrick taunts.
Simon doesn’t give an answer. He turns back to the mirror and frees his shirttails. His shorts feel slightly looser on his waist now. Imitating Patrick, he runs his hands under the water and slicks back his hair. It is easy to become anyone. He doesn’t have to be an SMBS boy, or Uncle Song’s nephew or Ma’s son. Thinking about it makes him angrier. Who is Principal Chock to tell him to believe in God? Who is Ma to tell him he shouldn’t? And Patrick—who is he to say anything about Uncle Song as if he knows him? Simon spins around and grabs him by the throat. “You’re a liar,” he yells.
Patrick’s eyes are wide with surprise. “Why are you…defending…him?” he gasps as he tries to wriggle free. “Are you some kind…of fag…too?”
Before he can think, Simon’s fist shoots forward. The force of the swing slams Patrick’s head against the wall. As Simon hears the dull crack of contact, he lets out a small cry. A trail of blood begins to run from a cut on Patrick’s lip. Patrick closes his eyes and opens them, then he stumbles and Simon sees a darker patch of blood on the back of his head.
The door flings open and two students pour in. Their laughter stops abruptly when they see Patrick sinking to the floor, his head tilted at a strange angle. Simon shoves past them and dashes out the door. He runs so quickly down the stairs he nearly trips. Everything he passes—the pond, the tuckshop, the pool, the tennis courts—is a long blurry stream.
At the school gates, the guards are managing the line of cars inching into campus. Simon considers slowing down but if he does, everything will catch up to him at once, and he is sick of thinking about consequences. It is easier to quicken his pace and bolt past the guards, who call out the dismissal rules after him. Their voices thin into a buzz of traffic and construction as Simon gains distance. He tells himself to keep going until he forgets, as if the past is something that can recede until it is completely out of view.
*