The Lights Spoke

‘CLASS dismissed, enjoy your weekend children,’ Ms Flannery called out, slamming her duster down on the desk.

A chorus of squeaks from chairs being pushed out erupted from the class and the distinct gleeful chatter that came at the end of every Friday could be heard. Coats were thrown on and as Finn zipped up his schoolbag, he quickly removed the knife and stuck it in his pocket.

There was a knot in his stomach that tightened the closer it came to the end of lessons, and now it was so small and strong it had sent his heart into a fit of wild thumps. Get a grip, he told himself as he put his arms into his jacket and secured the bag straps on his shoulders.

Winter was upon them with the school beginning to put up Christmas decorations throughout the grounds. Finn walked across the yard to the north entrance and out into the little housing estates that bordered Saint Attractas. He followed the crowds, though didn’t talk to anyone. Often he would walk with his friends but today felt the longing to be alone with his thoughts.

Finn hated the walk home now. It waited for him all day, and all day it tormented him. He kept a slow pace to drag the journey out but not too slow as to simply delay the inevitable. While other children giggled and laughed and ran past him, Finn just simply sank further into his own mind. Wrestling with uncertainty and what to do. Like hiding underwater until the pressure got too much, and sooner or later he knew he would have to come up for air.

A wall separated Wickham from Lynnwood. Students would take it at a run and pull themselves up and over rather than go the long way around on the Ballinteer Road. As he approached, Finn could see the human traffic of students waiting for their turn.

‘Alright Finn.’ Nodded young curly-haired Graham who was waiting patiently.

‘Howya,’ Finn nodded back.

The two lads stared at how people in front of them took on the wall. For the Seniors it was easy, but those from the Junior School always needed to help each other. It was something of a right of passage when you were able to leap over on your own. You’d made it … you were a grown up!

‘You playing ball tomorrow night?’ Graham asked Finn.

‘Aye. If I can get a lift.’

‘Your Da away again?’

‘Aye.’

‘Jump in with us if you like.’

‘You not going with Kieth?’

‘Nah sure did you not hear … Kieth’s little brother died.’

‘What!? He died … but he’s new … how?’

‘Couldn’t breath right.’

‘Jaysus. Is Kieth ok?’

‘Dunno, I haven’t seen him. I hear his Ma is a wreck though.’

‘Yeah. The stuff people have to deal with.’

‘Tell me about it. Woop I’m up. Give us a boost will ya?’

It was their turn to go and Finn linked his fingers to form a foothold for his classmate. Graham reached up and grabbed the top of the wall and swung up and hooked a leg. Once on top, he stretched a hand down for Finn who ran, kicked of the wall and grabbed it. Graham pulled until Finn locked onto the top of the wall with his fingers. Finn pulled hard and scrapped the wall with his feet, wishing his bag had less books in it.

When the two were safely over they followed the flow of students on the dirt track along the river until they reached a gap in a hedge that took them out to a main road. Here, some fo the students went left, some right. The others crossed the road and cut into another housing estate where there was a laneway that took them the rest of the way to Dundrum. Finn and Graham waited for no cars and ran across.

‘Ugh I hate this.’ Graham sighed.

‘Hugh?’

‘Passing Saint Williams. The posh shits never leave it out do they?’

‘I guess not.’ Finn felt the knife inside his pocket and gripped it tight.

Saint Williams was a private school nearby. Their grounds looked down on the laneway which led to Dundrum, which Finn and Graham and many others travelled through each day. On Fridays, the Willys would position themselves with stones and launch them down on the students from the neighbouring school as they travelled through, cackling loudly with their posh-ass accents as they did. Some of the big ones even drop down into the laneway to handout a beating directly. Once last year this happened to Finn. He was grabbed and pinned up agains the wall. He kicked and swung, did every thing he could to fight back but he wasn’t strong enough on his own; and he was thankful to escape with just a black eye and a busted nose.

There was a bend in the laneway before reaching where the Willys waited. Other students had already stopped to peer around it carefully. This was more to brace themselves and put a plan together rather than anything else. At this point no one ever turned back, which Finn had always thought to be odd. Why did he never turn back, why did none of them just pick a longer route when they saw the way was blocked? Excitement, Finn decided. Yes that was it. The unusual excitement found in narrowly escaping a beating. The thrill of running at the Willys so fast you couldn’t be hit or caught. Being able to look back at them with a grin and flip them the finger. But was it worth it? No … probably not.

‘Right, I’m going for it.’ Said a student Finn recognised from the year above him. The lad pulled the straps of his bag as tight as he could get them, as if they were a parachute and he were about to flop out of a plane. He ran. Others followed, clearly fancying their odds as a group. Finn and Graham watched as the kamikaze team sped with their heads down low to avoid a serious knock. Stones, balls of hard clay and crushed up soft drink cans soon rained down upon them. They danced from foot to foot as they bound down the lane … expertly avoiding the incoming shrapnel. Finn and Graham gawped in awe and both wondered inside themselves should they have joined in the Shakespearean charge.

‘Feckin hell,’ called Graham. As three Willys dropped down into the lane to play cat and mouse.

‘G’wan lads,’ Finn heard himself growl. Cheering on his school brethren and completing neglecting the voice in his head that was telling him that he was up next.

‘You see that one with the mushroom haircut?’ Graham asked Finn. ‘He’s in sixth class. Plays Hurling with my brother. He’s got a massive tattoo on his arm. You know what a tattoo is right?’

‘Of course I know what a tattoo is Graham.’

‘Yeah sorry. Well its huge. He said it took days to finish. And that the artist said he’d probably pass out from the pain … but he didn’t.’

‘Thanks for that Graham.’ This didn’t make Finn feel any better about their situation. The three cronies, led by the tattooed mushroom went for their pray, missing initially and running after them. Finn and Graham watched. They watched them fail, they watched their school brethren gain in speed as the others slowed. They watched them run out of sight. And now, it was their turn. Gulp …

‘How do you want to do this?’ Asked Graham.

Finn removed his hand from his jacket pocket, concealing his little penknife in a closed fist. ‘We run at them. Straight down the middle, and then split. You take the left, i’ll go right and we take our chances against the walls.

Graham nodded. “What’s that thing he shouts in Die Hard, again?’

‘Huh?‘

‘Die Hard. The Christmas movie. He shouts something when he shoots the bad guys.‘

‘Welcome to the party pal?’

‘No no not that. The cowboy thing.’

‘Yippee ki-yay, motherfecker!’

‘YES! Thats it. Lets scream it.’

Finn thought for a moment. ‘Sure why not.’

As the ones before them, the two lads tightened their packs on their shoulders. They looked at each other without needing to say anything, and readied themselves to fly around the bend at full pace towards their enemies.

‘Right, on three.’ Said Finn.

‘As in we go on three, like?’

‘What … yes.’

‘So this is one … two … GO? As in we go, on three?’

‘No. What the feck? Have been sniffing glue? Its, one … two … three … GO.’

‘Right. Sorry just wanted to be sure. These aren’t times to be messing around you know.’

They prepared a final brace, gripping the tarmac as hard as they could with the toes of their converse.

‘One,’ Finn began. Graham put on a face of absolute focus. As if he were about to storm that french beach in World War Two which Miss Flannery had made them write an essay on.

‘Two,’ said Finn. As he envisioned how this was going to go. He knew he was fast. But if he got caught, he also knew he was ready.'

‘Three … GOOO.’

The boys pushed off with such might they left dust screaming in the air behind them. They darted down the middle of the laneway with Finn just a little ahead of Graham. It took a few moments for the Willys to even notice they were coming but as soon as they did the two boys at the top of their lungs screamed ‘Yippee ki-yay, motherfeckerrrrssss.‘

The Willys stood forming a fleshy wall with the tattooed one in the centre. Resolute in their stance that these little twerps would not pass them. Finn felt himself get faster and faster until he was inches from the middle man and then bound to the right, avoiding grasping arms and with one foot again pushed himself back into the middle of the path again. He looked like he was floating, grazing the tattooed one’s shoulder as he whipped past. But Finn was moving at such speed he could barley control himself now and he had no idea where Graham was. As he gracefully re-centered one of the others caught the sleeve of Finn’s jacket. They couldn’t hold on but the grip was strong and long enough to send Finn off-course and make him stumble to the ground.

Finn looked up, regathering his senses like coins that had been knocked from his hand. His knee burned with pain and his knuckles on the fist that somehow managed to keep hold of his knife were badly grazed. The lad that had grabbed at him was leaping towards him with an excitable look on his face; a jackal towards a feed. Finn was ready for what happened next. As the jackal closed in, suddenly out of nowhere bound Graham with ferocious speed. He knocked the jackal from behind, sending him down into the dirt and skidded to help Finn back up onto his feet. The two friends ran away as fast as they could … giggling … giggling as only thrilled children could giggle.

‘Jaysus that was mad,’ panted Graham. ‘We had rockets up our holes so we did.’

‘Aw man I thought I was done for until you showed up.’

‘Ah you woulda been grand. We’re way faster than those fools. BALLERS! Thats what we are. BALLERS!’

‘Whats a baller?’

‘I’m not entirely sure. My brother always shouts it when he drives fast. BALLERS!’

The pair slowed their sprint when they were sure they were safe and proceeded in the direction of home. Towards the crossroads and up the hill to the left.

‘If you won the lotto, what would you buy?’ Graham asked. Clearly still high on the zest of their achievement.

Finn thought for a moment, chewing his bottom lip and looking up to the sky. ‘A ninja sword, I think. Yeah. A ninja sword.’

‘Oooooh thats a good one so it is. You know what I’d get?’

‘What?’

‘Night-vision goggles!’ Said Graham proudly

‘Awwww. That’s deadly.’

‘Yeah, I know.’

The friends parted ways with a fist-bump at the corner of Meadow Grove. The sky was already turning dark and on the homestretch Finn reflected on what had happened. How he was sure he was caught but also how certain Graham was that he would’ve gotten away. He wished he was as brave as Graham. Sure he was brave enough to carry a knife … but not enough to do something when it needed to be done. So he wasn’t brave at all.

Finn turned into the driveway of his home. The blue car sat parked on the brickwork beside overgrown grass and as he approached the front door he noticed the lights in the home were off. No glow from any window upstairs or down. No set of curtains pulled. Finn felt a lump form in his throat, he knew what this meant.

Unlocking the door quietly, Finn entered the darkness and once again removed his little knife from his pocket. This time he wouldn’t be afraid. This time … if he needed to … he would act. The floorboards creaked as he placed his bag on the floor by the wall. He heard a whimper.

‘Mam?’ Finn looked into the front room where his mother sat on the couch, her face buried in her hands. Hearing her son she looked up, the track marks on her face left by tears from her red eyes glistening.

‘Love. You’re home. I’m so sorry, I don’t have any food ready.’

‘Thats ok mam.’ As Finn approached he could see the marks on the left side of his mum’s face and how her jaw had already started to swell. ‘Mam we need to get ice on that.‘

‘Oh I’m fine. I’ll do that later. How was school?’

Footsteps began to slowly descend the stairs in loud, heavy thuds. Finn’s heart raced wildly and he could almost hear his blood rushing in his veins.

‘Here you are boy,’ the man slurred as he entered the room holding an almost empty bottle of whiskey. The man’s wiry brown hair was dishevelled and his stubble was on the cusp of becoming a beard beneath a red nose.

‘Well … what have ya?’ He spoke again. Both Finn and his mother remained silent. The man towered above them in an untucked shirt and took a lengthy swig from the bottle.

‘What’s a man got to do to get some dinner around her eh? Boy … get in the kitchen.’

‘Leave him alone Bill,’ Finn’s mother sobbed as she rose to her feet.

‘Thats enough out of you woman.’ Bill swung an open hand which hit her in the face with a large wallop. She crashed to the floor with such force it seemed to Finn like something from a movie. She wasn’t even able to break the impact with her hands, so strong the hit was his mother went straight onto her face.

‘RAAaaagggghhhhhhhh,’ Finn roared as he speared forward aiming his knife for the softness of Bill’s belly. But Bill simply grabbed Finn by the wrist and gave it a twist and soon the boy was down on his arse gripping his arm in pain.

‘You little pup,‘ growled Bill down at Finn. ‘Where the hell did you get that from?’

Once again Finn looked up as a thug came towards him. He felt himself tremble and as he looked at his unconscious mother sprawled near, felt tears of his own start to form. As Bill closed in a voice inside his head or maybe his gut screamed at him to MOVE NOW. Up he bound avoiding the drunks outstretched fingers and out into the hall he went. Finn made for the kitchen, knowing Bill would sloppily be stumbling after him.

The back of the house was even darker than the front and Finn found comfort in this. With his young eyes he watched Bill approach the entrance to the kitchen. ‘Runt. Where are ya?‘ The moment Bill was through the doorframe Finn jumped and swung up. Holding the cord like the top of a pendulum, Finn buried the toaster into Bill’s chin with a mighty clash. Bill thundered back onto the floor but Finn could see he was still awake to the world if perhaps a little confused. Finn jumped forward again, this time landing on Bill’s chest. And taking the toaster in both hands proceed to bash and mince on his stepfather’s nose.

When his young arms and shoulders tired, Finn dropped his weapon, feeling the sweat seeping out of him and looked down on the mess of red that he made. Bill’s eyes blinked and Finn could tell he was in there somewhere, but he said nothing; appearing to be only able to gurgle some breath for himself. Finn brought his nose down till it touched what was left of Bill’s.

‘If you ever,’ he whispered. ‘Touch my mam or me ever again … i’ll kill you.’ With that, Finn climbed to his feet and walked back to where his mother lay. He could feel the adrenaline in his hands as if it were electricity and he had never felt more awake in his life. Gently … he eased himself down to his mam. Cradling her head on his lap as he slipped her mobile phone from the pocket of her jeans. The call was answered almost immediately.

‘Hello. Could you please send an ambulance to 445 Ailesbury Grove please,’ Finn coughed a little to clear his throat. ‘My mam. She’s been … she’s been hurt. Please hurry.’

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