The new place that accepted me was a group home with six other boys; all around the same age or a few years older but tougher and they decided to make life rough on the new kids. I was one of them; four sets of eyes stared me down and made comments under their breath that the housemother ignored. All of them spoke in the broad accent of London and I had trouble understanding them. They mocked my own soft accent calling me a country git with pretensions of royalty.
I was put in with the other new boy, a small overweight redhead with sallow skin, and a twitch. He jumped at everything and smelled as if he’d pissed his pants.
The room they showed us was barely big enough for one bed and two had been crammed into it. On the foot was a stack of clothes, two pairs of jeans, two t-shirts, and four pairs of briefs, socks, trainers, and a belt. The bed had a thin stubbly coverlet and a flat pillow with not much stuffing. The walls were striped paper in a mustard yellow, one window and it was nailed shut and looked out over a small, postage stamp sized yard of trampled grass and weeds. Kids toys lay scattered about, a few bikes and a sad swing set.
The nurse I’d met first had brought me here and I saw the doubt in his eyes as he inspected the place.
“It’s just for a little while, Aidan. Till we find you a permanent home. Too many people have heard about your miraculous recovery. Someone will adopt you. You be good. I’ll come by; check on your next Friday.”
I told him goodbye and sat on the bed watching him drive off through the window.
The four other boys crowded into the room and went through my meager things; complaining that it was the same as their own, no posh clothes or toys like they expected from my accent.
“Got any cash?” the biggest boy sneered. “Costs to live here. You got to pay me for protection.”
“Protection? From what?” I asked innocently and he punched me in the stomach. I lost my breath, fell backward wheezing. Whacked my head on the wall and dented the plaster. Saw stars and my eyes filled with tears. I thought I was dying, remembered it happening before and relaxed in acceptance.
My breathing came back and I was able to lift my ribs. Opened my eyes as five faces stared worriedly down at me.
“Blimey,” the big bully said shakily. “I thought you were a deader, you didn’t breathe for 5 minutes. Turned blue, you did. And smiled. What’s so bloody amusing about dying?”
“Already did it once,” I shrugged and bought their attention.
“Naw? Really? Tell us about it,” he plunked himself down on the opposite bed and I told them what I remembered about dying; and proved it by lifting my shirt and showing them the holes through my chest and belly.
“Me name is Tom Watson,” he said, his fingers lingering on the raised welts of scar tissue the size of a large marble. “This be Harry, Marc and Schnee.” the three looked enough alike to be brothers, thin, whippy with narrow dark eyes, watchful mouths and brown hair.
“Schnee?” I asked.
“Schneider. Bloody tart mum named him for the truck his dad drove. Them three are brothers but got each a different dad. Mum was a tart, did heroin. Born addicted they were. Crack babies. Suzy keeps a tight rein on ‘em, don’t let ‘em go wandering the streets looking for dope.”
“Suzy?”
“She’s the woman runs this house. Fair if you don’t piss her off. One of the good ones. I was in one house where the fucking man raped me every night until I bit his pecker off. Won’t be dicking no little kids no more. Don’t let no gents catch you alone---no matter how nice they act.”
“Rape you? What’s that?” I asked naively.
“Some men like to stick their prick in kids arse holes. Hurts like bloody hell, makes you bleed at first. Some of the boys like it after awhile. They’ll pay you to keep quiet.”
I shuddered. “No thanks.” I still hadn’t found any use for mine except to pee through.
“What’s your name?” the oldest brother named Harry asked.
“Aidan. Aidan Smyth. That’s not my real name, they gave it to me. Said they found me in Cheapside, London. Where are we now?”
“Binghamton. Coal producing city not far from the outskirts of London. Suzy takes us to school on weekdays, Saturday and Sunday we do chores and play soccer at the Civic centre downtown. You play?”
“Don’t know. I’ve been kind of gone the last five years,” I admitted.
“Five years! Where?”
“I just woke up seven days ago. They said I was in like a coma or something; they did all kinds of tests on my head to see if I was normal. Told me it was some kind of miracle. I was like, retarded or something.”
“Where did you live before?”
“Place called Swansea Group Home,” I answered and he nodded slowly.
“That’s where they send all the mental defectives. Them that don’t know nothing. Cor, you lived there?”
“For five years, they said. I just woke up one day, looked around and asked where I was? Freaked the nurse out. That’s when they bought me to the shrink.”
“Tell us about your friend, Ned,” He encouraged and I strained my memory trying to remember everything I could about him.
So I embroidered it and had them lapping it up eager for more until the lady’s voice hollered up to tell us dinner was ready. Tom hesitated, stuck his hand out and said, “Sorry, guvnor that I hit you. Won’t do it again. Come on down, Suzy cooks a treat and there’s always plenty to eat.”
All of us trooped down to the kitchen and took our seats at the picnic table where I met the house matron, a stern faced blonde with blue eyes and hoop earrings; a cockney accent and a wooden spoon in one hand, a cigarette in the other.
“I see you’ve introduced yourselves,” she rasped in a smoker’s growl. “I’m Suzy. Eat and then we’ll clean up. Are you unpacked? Good. You’re in bed by 9 pm. We watch telly until 8 and then you wash up; brush your teeth and change. No lights on, no reading in bed, no smoking and no unnecessary noise. You got to pee, get up. I don’t allow no accidents on my sheets. Them’s the rules. Oh and no cussing, spitting or fighting. You’re all too young for tarts in your rooms. Got it?”
I nodded and dug into the casserole of meat, potatoes, and veggies filling my belly until it was happy. I fell asleep long before the curfew and woke up in bed, rolled over and pulled the covers over my head.