Paddy Nolan is the cock of the class. He has already started to take on the look of his dad and brothers, as if his part in the divine plan was always the pick, the shovel and the open road. He’s got a benign, ruddy face that should see him get done under the Trades Description Act because when he loses his rag, which happens hourly, it’s like someone’s whipped the mask off him and the beast within’s revealed. Typically, he’s bigger than everyone else and once riled he looks like he’s been in training for violence since he kicked his way out of the womb.
He hates you. He hates Sean. He hates everyone.
“Wait till break time. I’m going to smash your fucking face in.”
You have upset him.
You do not know how.
All morning you sit there like a man on death row. There’s no point in telling the teacher. That will not save you. It would be like a Texan appeal; you might get a stay of execution but sooner or later the Governor will let you fry.
Paddy keeps looking over at you and smiling. For an eleven-year-old he really is a vicious bastard. This talent for mental torture can’t be innate. One of his warped family must have taught him. He brings new dimensions to a playground fight that other kids can only dream of. Later the Americans will invent the phrase “psy-ops“ for what he is doing to you but that is a long time off yet and you may never live to see it. At the moment you quietly shit yourself and wait for the inevitable.
The bell rings for break and you rush for the classroom door but get caught up in the tide of other kids, all with the same idea of getting out fast. Nolan’s behind you and as you head towards the playground he raps you on the back of the skull with his knuckles. It does not feel like an eleven-year-old bully; it feels like a thirsty navvy trying to gain entry to a pub. You turn to complain and he smashes his fist into the side of your face making your nose pop like a party balloon. You would like to say that you don’t flinch and that you fire a punch straight back at him but what you actually do is cry. Your reaction is immediate; not prompted by pain or fear. You are being driven by impotent outrage at the injustice of it all. Nolan is unmoved and lamps you again, this time hitting your ear. Only now the pain is very real. Your arms are wrapped around your head trying to cover as much of his target area as possible. You can hear him calling you a cunt and a fucking bastard just above the other kids shouting “Fight, fight,” and you long for a teacher to call out your names and tell you to stop. A third punch catches you a glancing blow on the top of your head and you hear him snort in anger at his miss. He’ll make you pay for that, you twat.
After that comes a sound you’ll never forget.
Paddy Nolan screams.
It doesn’t seem possible that the noise that comes out of him ever has a right to be in him in the first place. It isn’t a corny horror movie scream or a Beatlemania scream.
It belongs in an abattoir.
People will tell different variations of the story afterwards but there is enough of a rough consensus to glean the basics. Sean has pushed his way through the crowd of gawkers who’ve gathered round Paddy to watch him make you die. He doesn’t wait for a formal invitation to the fight but jumps straight onto Nolan’s back without so much as a kiss-my-arse and bites the lower half of his left ear clean off. Your wounded tormenter’s shirt is now one half white, one half blood. His screaming is joined by that of a good section of the watchers. Then Sean does something that goes down in school folklore. He gets off Paddy’s back, comes round to the front to face him and spits his ear back in his face. Right back in his fucking face. To your left Mary Riordan is sick, splashing your school trousers. For a second you imagine having to explain it to your Mum and then you look up as Sean grabs him by the collar and pulls him forward. Nolan’s out of his mind with pain by this point and doesn’t resist. Sean brings his forehead crashing into the bridge of Paddy’s nose, which breaks audibly. Mary Riordan faints.
There is a new cock of the class. And he is your best mate.