Boy on the rack
Created | Updated Sep 4, 2006
“Day-ay-ay-ay-vid (two, three, four), Day-ay-ay-ay-vid (two, three, four), Day-ay-ay-ay-vid……”
The chanting has been going on for half an hour now and shows no signs of abating. If anything it is louder than ever, more demanding. David McLarnon hunches at his desk terrified.
“Day-ay-ay-ay-vid (two, three, four), Day-ay-ay-ay-vid (two, three, four), Day-ay-ay-ay-vid……”
“I’m going to ring the front door bell and tell his ma…”
It’s the girl talking. The ringleader. The first one who’d seen. David retches, sick with fear. Unable to think. Unable to move. If only he hadn’t started this. If only ….
He knows that there must be something wrong with him. Something dangerously wrong. Why else would he have taken such risks? How else could he have felt such a thrill when he did?
“Come on David, give us a show, give us a show, give us a show. Come on David; give us a show…..”
Singing now. Threatening.
What if his parents go into the front room? It’s just under his bedroom. What if one of them ventures outside? How long is this going to keep happening? He tries to focus on the page in front of him. He has a Chemistry examination in two days. So far he understands nothing on the syllabus.
“Day-ay-ay-ay-vid (two, three, four), Day-ay-ay-ay-vid (two, three, four), Day-ay-ay-ay-vid……”
The experience is dwarfing him. Emasculating him. Ironic that. It seems that the chanting grows louder every evening. The crowd bigger. Every teenager in the neighbourhood must know by now. Know about the strange boy in number fourteen who wants to be looked at.
It had begun as a game. He and Jamie McVittie sitting at the back of the school bus one Thursday, both been kept behind for talking in class. French class. How did you expect a fourteen year old boy to keep quiet in there?
“Dare you to show your todger to those girls”
Jamie always had the ideas. Always pushed the boat out. David always followed him. Eager to be included. And so it had begun. At the back of the bus with Jamie
What amazed him was the rush. When one of the girls had noticed, pointed towards the bus and giggled, he’d experienced a surge of excitement. Power, maybe. Certainly a rush like he didn’t know existed. Like an idiot he’d grinned at her and waved. It was then he noticed who she was.
The first time she and a friend had stopped outside his window and called up to him he’d felt the excitement surge again. Up in his room, night after night, pretending to study for examinations that he had no interest in passing, he had missed out on excitement. A prisoner to his parents’ academic obsession. And whilst his friends played street football, or simply just hung around together chatting about the many substantial issues that make up a fourteen year old boy’s life, David just sat at his wooden desk, shuffling his school books and feeling resentful.
“You didn’t believe me! You didn’t believe me!”
The triumph in her voice unmistakeable. She’d uncovered the neighbourhood excitement.
David felt good too. That night. Felt like he’d been noticed. Felt like these two pretty girls who had never previously noticed his existence had suddenly sat up and realised that he was there. And that he had what they wanted.
“Day-ay-ay-ay-vid (two, three, four), Day-ay-ay-ay-vid (two, three, four), Day-ay-ay-ay-vid……”
It’s getting louder. Pulling his thoughts right back to the here and now. This is the sixth night in a row, and the crowd’s a big one. He’s the only show in town it seems. What happens if…….? He thinks he hears footsteps coming up the drive, and he breaks out in a cold sweat.
“Come on David, give us a show, give us a show, give us a show. Come on David; give us a show…..”
There are boys’ voices in the crowd. He’s become the local freak show. David McLarnon has never known fear like this in his life. How can he keep this hidden from his parents? What will happen to him when they find out? Will they send him to a psychiatrist? Do you go to court for showing your todger? Surely someone will come to investigate the noise. Complain to the gang. Try to move them on. And then his number will be up. How could I have been so stupid?
And of course, the neighbours will love this. His parents hold themselves so aloof. Never talk to anyone in the area. Are always planning to move somewhere more suitable. And, of course, everyone around here knows this.
They’re running up and down the driveway now. Right up to the front door. Why can’t they leave me alone? Haven’t they worked out that he isn’t going to do it again? That he doesn’t feel powerful anymore? That he feels so helpless? That he wishes he’d never been born?
“Day-ay-ay-ay-vid (two, three, four), Day-ay-ay-ay-vid (two, three, four), Day-ay-ay-ay-vid……”
David can take no more.
His face and neck are covered in sweat. He can hear his own heartbeat. Fear really does have a smell.
He forces himself to stand up. Walks to the chair. Picks up his school tie. Knots it carefully round his neck. Realises that fourteen years have gone by so quickly.
Silence now. He breathes again. Maybe they’ve gone. He begins to unknot the tie thankfully. Trembling.
“Come on David, give us a show, give us a show, give us a show. Come on David; give us a show…..”
Louder than ever. More aggressive. Driving the walls closer round him. His home, his room, his life is no longer safe.
Clumsy fingers knot the tie tighter around his neck again and he places a stool carefully in the middle of the floor. Under one of the lovingly polished beams that highlight his loft conversion room. He ties the other end tie tightly to the gleaming wood. He wants there to be no mistakes.
“Day-ay-ay-ay-vid (two, three, four), Day-ay-ay-ay-vid (two, three, four), Day-ay-ay-ay-vid……”
He covers his hands with his ears, trying to shut out the sound. Trying to make the chanters go away. Trying to hear himself think. Trying to think something to hear. He has no idea what happens when you die.
“Day-ay-ay-ay-vid (two, three, four), Day-ay-ay-ay-vid (two, three, four), Day-ay-ay-ay-vid……”
Screwing his eyes tight and muttering a half hearted prayer of hello to whoever might be waiting he kicks away the stool from below his feet. But as the tie tightens around his throat, and his legs kick helpless beneath him, he remembers that he forgot to write a note.
The chanting has been going on for half an hour now and shows no signs of abating. If anything it is louder than ever, more demanding. David McLarnon hunches at his desk terrified.
“Day-ay-ay-ay-vid (two, three, four), Day-ay-ay-ay-vid (two, three, four), Day-ay-ay-ay-vid……”
“I’m going to ring the front door bell and tell his ma…”
It’s the girl talking. The ringleader. The first one who’d seen. David retches, sick with fear. Unable to think. Unable to move. If only he hadn’t started this. If only ….
He knows that there must be something wrong with him. Something dangerously wrong. Why else would he have taken such risks? How else could he have felt such a thrill when he did?
“Come on David, give us a show, give us a show, give us a show. Come on David; give us a show…..”
Singing now. Threatening.
What if his parents go into the front room? It’s just under his bedroom. What if one of them ventures outside? How long is this going to keep happening? He tries to focus on the page in front of him. He has a Chemistry examination in two days. So far he understands nothing on the syllabus.
“Day-ay-ay-ay-vid (two, three, four), Day-ay-ay-ay-vid (two, three, four), Day-ay-ay-ay-vid……”
The experience is dwarfing him. Emasculating him. Ironic that. It seems that the chanting grows louder every evening. The crowd bigger. Every teenager in the neighbourhood must know by now. Know about the strange boy in number fourteen who wants to be looked at.
It had begun as a game. He and Jamie McVittie sitting at the back of the school bus one Thursday, both been kept behind for talking in class. French class. How did you expect a fourteen year old boy to keep quiet in there?
“Dare you to show your todger to those girls”
Jamie always had the ideas. Always pushed the boat out. David always followed him. Eager to be included. And so it had begun. At the back of the bus with Jamie
What amazed him was the rush. When one of the girls had noticed, pointed towards the bus and giggled, he’d experienced a surge of excitement. Power, maybe. Certainly a rush like he didn’t know existed. Like an idiot he’d grinned at her and waved. It was then he noticed who she was.
The first time she and a friend had stopped outside his window and called up to him he’d felt the excitement surge again. Up in his room, night after night, pretending to study for examinations that he had no interest in passing, he had missed out on excitement. A prisoner to his parents’ academic obsession. And whilst his friends played street football, or simply just hung around together chatting about the many substantial issues that make up a fourteen year old boy’s life, David just sat at his wooden desk, shuffling his school books and feeling resentful.
“You didn’t believe me! You didn’t believe me!”
The triumph in her voice unmistakeable. She’d uncovered the neighbourhood excitement.
David felt good too. That night. Felt like he’d been noticed. Felt like these two pretty girls who had never previously noticed his existence had suddenly sat up and realised that he was there. And that he had what they wanted.
“Day-ay-ay-ay-vid (two, three, four), Day-ay-ay-ay-vid (two, three, four), Day-ay-ay-ay-vid……”
It’s getting louder. Pulling his thoughts right back to the here and now. This is the sixth night in a row, and the crowd’s a big one. He’s the only show in town it seems. What happens if…….? He thinks he hears footsteps coming up the drive, and he breaks out in a cold sweat.
“Come on David, give us a show, give us a show, give us a show. Come on David; give us a show…..”
There are boys’ voices in the crowd. He’s become the local freak show. David McLarnon has never known fear like this in his life. How can he keep this hidden from his parents? What will happen to him when they find out? Will they send him to a psychiatrist? Do you go to court for showing your todger? Surely someone will come to investigate the noise. Complain to the gang. Try to move them on. And then his number will be up. How could I have been so stupid?
And of course, the neighbours will love this. His parents hold themselves so aloof. Never talk to anyone in the area. Are always planning to move somewhere more suitable. And, of course, everyone around here knows this.
They’re running up and down the driveway now. Right up to the front door. Why can’t they leave me alone? Haven’t they worked out that he isn’t going to do it again? That he doesn’t feel powerful anymore? That he feels so helpless? That he wishes he’d never been born?
“Day-ay-ay-ay-vid (two, three, four), Day-ay-ay-ay-vid (two, three, four), Day-ay-ay-ay-vid……”
David can take no more.
His face and neck are covered in sweat. He can hear his own heartbeat. Fear really does have a smell.
He forces himself to stand up. Walks to the chair. Picks up his school tie. Knots it carefully round his neck. Realises that fourteen years have gone by so quickly.
Silence now. He breathes again. Maybe they’ve gone. He begins to unknot the tie thankfully. Trembling.
“Come on David, give us a show, give us a show, give us a show. Come on David; give us a show…..”
Louder than ever. More aggressive. Driving the walls closer round him. His home, his room, his life is no longer safe.
Clumsy fingers knot the tie tighter around his neck again and he places a stool carefully in the middle of the floor. Under one of the lovingly polished beams that highlight his loft conversion room. He ties the other end tie tightly to the gleaming wood. He wants there to be no mistakes.
“Day-ay-ay-ay-vid (two, three, four), Day-ay-ay-ay-vid (two, three, four), Day-ay-ay-ay-vid……”
He covers his hands with his ears, trying to shut out the sound. Trying to make the chanters go away. Trying to hear himself think. Trying to think something to hear. He has no idea what happens when you die.
“Day-ay-ay-ay-vid (two, three, four), Day-ay-ay-ay-vid (two, three, four), Day-ay-ay-ay-vid……”
Screwing his eyes tight and muttering a half hearted prayer of hello to whoever might be waiting he kicks away the stool from below his feet. But as the tie tightens around his throat, and his legs kick helpless beneath him, he remembers that he forgot to write a note.
