Free Grow Up by Ben Brooks Page A

unaware that there were timetables left on each of our chairs.
    â€˜Y-y-yes?’ the rapist says to Ping.
    â€˜Paedo.’
    We all laugh. The boarding school girls throw disapproving stares. Mrs Norton’s jaw clenches and her eyes jump forward. The rapist eyes the ground.
    â€˜A-a-actually, no, I-I-I raped a – It was – ’
    â€˜Did you rape a child? If you raped a child, then you still count as a paedo,’ Ping announces.
    Mrs Norton grabs him by his hood and leads him out of the room. Everyone is laughing. John the Rapist has forced his thin lips into a plastic smile. I feel a sense of mild amusement.
    â€˜That’s sick!’ someone shouts.
    â€˜N-n-no, I didn’t rape a child.’
    A girl from the school seated to our left raises her hand. They are all wearing maroon blazers that have small trees emblazoned on their breast pockets. A surprisingly large percentage of them sport blonde pigtails that curl downwards like pouring bleach streams.
    â€˜Y-y-yes?’ he says to the blazered arm.
    â€˜Why did you do it?’ the girl says. ‘That’s so horrible.’
    â€˜Don’t worry, nobody would bother with you,’ Jonah shouts.
    There is more laughter. Laughter like hidden rocks revealed only as they emerge to trip public-speaking rapists. Mrs Norton waves wildly for Jonah to leave, so me and Tenaya get up too and then we all stand around outside by the kerb, looking blank.
    â€˜Where now?’ Ping says.
    â€˜I don’t know. That guy was fucking creepy,’ Jonah replies.
    â€˜We didn’t get to meet the murderer,’ I say sadly. Even though I have already met Keith, I thought it might be useful research to see how he compares to other murderers. ‘I wanted to meet the murderer.’
    Before the trip, Mr Mandalay gave us booklets entitled ‘Serial Killers: A Revision Guide’. In them, he describes a theory called ‘The Triad of Sociopathy’, which suggests that common childhood characteristics of killers are: animal cruelty, an obsession with fire and persistent bedwetting after the age of five. I have tried various ways of eliciting details about Keith’s attitudes toward these things:
    Animal Cruelty
    At a family reunion last year, I kicked Grandma’s dog Missy and whispered to Keith ‘What a bag of shit, right, Keith?’ He smiled at me. Because he enjoyed it. Because he is a murderer.
    An Obsession With Fire
    When Mum lights a fire in the living room, Keith gets angry and says she should have let him do it. He tries to hide his penchant for starting fires by claiming this is simply because ‘Women are shit at that stuff.’
    Bedwetting
    This was difficult. In the end, I had to swallow my pride in the name of research. It tasted of dirt and old sick. When Keith came downstairs one morning, I took him aside for a man-to-semi-man chat. He enjoys these. I confided in him that I had wet the bed and asked whether this was normal for a boy of my age. He assured me that it was fine. Because he persistently wet the bed during his adolescence. Because he is a murderer.
    We all light cigarettes then walk to a bar across from the university. It is called Ezee. There are echoes of soft jazz and silence ringing through. Jonah orders the beers because he is the only person who is eighteen, and we all sit around sipping them.
    â€˜What do you want to do tonight?’ Ping says.
    â€˜We should stay in, then we can go out on the second night.’
    â€˜Why do you want to stay in, blood?’ Jonah has taken to referring to me as ‘blood’ because, conveniently, it is both a lower-class colloquialism for friend and also a nod towards my drunken sex act. ‘Abby isn’t even here.’
    â€˜Yea, why isn’t she here?’ Tenaya says, mocking, turning her head round to face me.
    â€˜She takes Psychology?’ Ping asks.
    â€˜She sits by you,’ I say.
    â€˜Sorry, blood. I