South Circular
What wasn’t remembered
Ned Wildgoose-Bulloch Year 10
t seemed like an ordinary day. The boy climbed out of the bed where he’d been lying and stood up on the dusty wooden floor. He was pale and frail, with thin hair and bony limbs and hung upright in a somewhat dejected manner. He walked over to his wardrobe, long since abandoned by its original owner, and took out a faded t-shirt and some jeans to put on. Forgotten objects. Then he stepped down the creaking stairs, passed the padlocked door and went through the front entrance to the world outside. Blinking in the late morning sunlight, the boy took in the customary scene: the long, winding tarmac road leading away from his house, passing the many, all very same-ish, brick houses and the disordered paving stones that formed two pavements trying to confine the road. The boy started moving down the street. He took his time, slowly, dismally onwards. The boy turned the corner and caught sight of the school. The school was a collection of large, grey stone buildings linked together by enclosed corridors. Scattered along the sides of the buildings were windows from which occasionally a face would appear. In front of the main building was the playground and then the front gates which were nestled in the perimeter wall, bordering the grounds. He walked past the gates and across the playground, up the main steps, coming to stand at the main doors. He went in. The boy walked down the corridors looking for a lesson that could be of value. French: no, English: no, Maths: maybe. He decided to try this Maths lesson. He slipped in through the door. ‘Why are you so late?’ asked the teacher, a scruffy middle-aged man, looking in the boy’s direction. The boy wondered for a second, his heart skipping a beat, – ‘Sorry sir, my bus was late’. The boy turned around: behind him a tall girl with blonde hair and brown eyes looked anxiously towards the teacher. She bowed her head and went to sit down I
quickly. The boy looked around for a comfortable spot in the room - he went over to sit on the inside ledge by the window. ‘Now, as I was saying’, continued the teacher ‘today we are going to learn about Simultaneous Equations. Can anyone tell me what they are?’ The boy decided the lesson wouldn’t be of use: he left. He knew that it was good to learn something, so he had something to work towards, and in case he ever got the chance to use what he would know. But still, he would much rather go wandering and wonder, sitting by the river at the edge of town. He still couldn’t quite understand, and it seemed
He walked over to his wardrobe, long since abandoned by its original owner, and
took out a faded t-shirt and jeans. Forgotten objects
like some information was missing, just out of reach, something he should know but didn’t. He realised, yes, how it became this way but couldn’t quite grasp everything. Although actually it seemed he knew everything he needed, but himself. The boy left the school grounds, and headed towards the river he loved. Glumly he crossed the road. At that moment, a car came speeding around the corner and raced towards the boy. It went through him. It seemed like an ordinary day.
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