HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BOGEY BOY!

The day is almost over, he thought sitting in the bus on his way home. Just another ten minutes, not even that, and I’ll be gone far away from these people. Please, nobody look at me for ten minutes, just ten. Please. Nobody needs to know.

The noises raged in the background as he sat alone with his thoughts. School children on their way home on a Friday evening; few phenomena are more excited or confused.

He was thinking about his book, one he dare not take out here for them all to see, when something rolled out from under his seat between his feet. He looked down, to see a ball, and then a hand come and collect it. His eyes traced the hand to the arm, and the arm to the face. He gulped.

“Well well well. Looks like the Bogey boy wants to play ball! Is that what you want Bogey boy?” sneered J.

“No thanks J. Thanks though, but I’m fine.” He said.

“Bogey says he’s fine, boys!” J. shouted out to the back, and there were laughs. “That isn’t right now, is it? I don’t want Bogey to be fine.” This time he was softer, menacing, and was holding the ball so tightly.

His mind raced, I’m almost there, just round this bend, and then I can get up and get out. Please let him just turn around and forget me now. Please please please!

He heaved a sigh of relief as J. straightened and began to walk back down the aisle. He thought he might as well get up and start moving towards the door. He did that.

But it wasn’t going to be over, not just yet. Someone else shouted from the back.

“Hey J.! I think its his birthday today!” J. turned and faced him once more. The menacing bully’s look returned to his eyes.

“Happy birthday Bogey boy.” He said.

Slowly, unsurely, he replied. “Thank you, J.”

“Go home today Bogey boy we’ll make sure you’re fine tomorrow. Go home today, and look at your Ma and tell her what a filthy mistake she made all those years ago!”

There were wild hysterical laughs, but there was silence. He heard none of it. He barely registered the jamming of the brakes and the opening of the door, as he stepped down and out. He did not feel the tears streaming down his face as he walked back the hundred yards to his house.

He didn’t go inside though, not just yet. He went round to the back, turned on the little faucet by the lawn and washed his face and wet his clothes. Then he went back to the front and rang the bell. His mother opened the door, and he put on the bravest smile he could muster.

“Happy birthday son! Look at what all we have for you today!” She was smiling, a smile of joy and pride, a smile that soon became a look of concern. “You’re all wet! What happened?”

“Oh nothing Ma! We had a water fight in the bus. J. told the guys that it was my birthday, and we had a huge celebration of sorts in the bus, and that ended with water on everyone. All our water bottles were emptied. Great guy, J.”

He took a step in, she ruffled his hair, her smile back once more. And while she went on about the gifts and the food, and the cake with fifteen candles, he could think only of one thing.

Oh Ma, if only you knew how many of my tears your one smile can dam.