Chapter 5

As Sammy walked home with the others, he couldn't stop checking himself out in shop windows and car mirrors.

'I can't get over how different I look,' he thought, playing with his newly silver hair.

As he looked around at his new friends, he noticed they all looked different in one way or another. Maybe it was their newfound confidence.

'Or maybe it really is magic?' he wondered. He'd always liked the idea of magic; of ancient and mystical powers at his fingertips. Who was to say it was all fake? People these days were too quick to judge.

"We'll call on you tomorrow," Jess said, smiling as they said their goodbyes at the entrance to his flat.

He used his fob to get into the foyer and trudged up the stairs to the second floor flat he shared with his mother and sister. His Dad's house was both nicer and bigger, but it didn't feel like home. Not like the flat did, despite its shoddy decor and bad plumbing.

"Are those your friends?" Mum asked, hovering by the window with the lace voile pulled back.

"Yeah, I guess they are." Sammy smiled.

"You have so many friends all of a sudden," his Mum gasped. "The other boy who knocked on seems very polite. I said he could wait in your room."

Sammy did a double-take.

'Other boy?'

...

'What other boy?'

He felt cold fingers of dread sneaking up to wrap themselves around his heart.

Pacing across the landing, he heard the steady hum of bass-heavy music blasting from the floor below. Sighing, he grabbed the baseball bat from the storage cupboard by the bathroom.

As he opened his door a fraction and peeked around, he saw Mike Strawbridge kneeling on his bedroom floor. He as just sitting there, staring down at his hands and muttering quietly to himself.

'What the hell?' Sammy frowned.

The door creaked as he pushed it further, giving away his position. Mike's eyes snapped up, wide in fear. Sammy had never seen Mike look like that before—frozen in dumbstruck terror.

As the annoying music from the lower floor turned up a notch he grunted and raised the bat.

"No!" Mike cowered on the floor before him. "No, don't, don't, please don't."

"D—don't what?" Sammy asked.

He looked down at the bat in his hand.

'Does he really think I'd hit him?'

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, please, I'm sorry," Mike was repeating over and over. He could see the boy's hands shaking as he grabbed at Sammy's trouser leg. "Please don't hurt me."

"What?" Sammy asked.

Mike didn't seem to hear him and just continued to babble. When Sammy knelt beside him and nudged him back, he saw lines of tears and snot streaming down the boy's face.

Why was he here, and why on Earth was he crying like a baby?

"What are you doing here?" Sammy frowned.

He tutted as the song below changed to an even more annoying tune, so loud it almost shook the floorboards. With an angry sigh, he grabbed the bat and hit the centre of the floor repeatedly until the music stopped. He saw how Mike flinched as he picked up the bat and pedalled backwards until he hit the bed.

"Sorry," he muttered. "It gets annoying. He listens to the same bloody songs on repeat."

Mike nodded dully, then looked down at the floor, hiccupping at random intervals as his tears dissipated.

Sammy sat at his computer desk, waiting for the intruder to explain his presence. He tapped his hand on his knee and sighed heavily, trying to prompt Mike into action.

"Sorry," Mike uttered finally.

"For?"

"Well... for bullying you," Mike said.

"You are?" Sammy scoffed. It seemed unlikely, based on the past three years of constant teasing, beatings, and verbal abuse.

Mike nodded. He sniffed and wiped at his face, trying to clean himself up but only succeeded at pushing the snot around his face.

"Here." Sammy threw him the box of tissues from his desk drawer.

After Mike had wiped away his tears he continued to apologise, saying how he was sorry for always picking on him and making his school life miserable.

'You make my whole life miserable,' Sammy thought.

Listening to the boy's meagre apology, Sammy felt himself falling into a trance. His eyes glazed over as his heart rate dropped, putting him a state of relaxation from which he could see things objectively.

"Why?" he asked.

Mike looked up; brows furrowed in question. How could he not understand the question? It was pretty darn simple.

"Why are you sorry? Why now?" Sammy elaborated.

He watched as Mike fumbled over his words, trying desperately to summon a suitable response.

"Err... erm... I just... I just am," Mike stammered.

From behind his glazed eyes, Sammy watched with amusement his blank face refused to show.

"Tell me the real reason you're here or get out," Sammy demanded in a lifeless voice. Listless and dry; it sounded foreign to his ears.

"Just... tell your friend I apologised, okay?" Mike asked.

“Hmm? Friend?” Sammy shook his head.

"The—" Mike went to describe the boy and stopped. "The new kid."

"Caine?" Sammy asked.

Mike nodded.

Sammy chuckled to himself. What had Caine done now? From the pained look of Mikes drawn, tear-streaked face he guessed it was going to hard work extracting the truth from him.

"Will you do that for me?" Mike asked, making puppy dog eyes at him.

'The cheek of you,' Sammy thought. 'I bet you aren't sorry one bit, you just want to save yourself.'

An idea occurred to him; a way to find out for sure if Mike was genuine.

"I'll give you a choice. I can either forgive you—genuinely forgive you for everything you've done for me, or I can tell Caine to leave you alone. You choose."

Mike looked stumped, just for a moment.

"Just, please tell Caine to leave me alone," he said, eyes downcast. "I promise I won't bother you ever again."

"But I'll never forgive you, you understand that, right?" Sammy told him.

Mike simply nodded without looking up to meet his eyes.

"Fine, whatever," Sammy uttered, unable to keep the disgust out of his voice. "Get out of my room."

"I—" Mike went to speak.

"Just fuck off!" Sammy demanded. Shouting broke the trance and caused his blood to rush through his ears. He'd never dared tell Mike off before today. Not once had he ever raised his voice to the bully. Mike looked understandably shocked, blinking and twitching as he backed out of the room.

'Why do I care so much that he isn't sorry?' Sammy wondered. It enraged him to the point he hated Mike than ever.

He should be sorry. That was the simplest explanation.

'He should feel bad for the shit he's put me through.'

...

"And he will," a voice whispered in the back of his mind.

Sammy frowned.

'Did that thought come from me? Or am I going mad?'