Page 69 of The Cut
‘Oh my God, he’s got a BUSH!’ Lynette laughs and points.
Mark covers his modesty and pulls his shorts back up, utterly humiliated. Patel runs over, screaming with laughter, trying to get a shot of his bare arse.
‘LEAVE ME ALONE!’ Mark’s voice tremors with fury. Dizzy from the race, his head is swimming; a circle of contorted faces surround him. All of them: Patel, Davis, even Annie and Catherine seem to be laughing and pointing.
‘Aw, Cherry, don’t be shy.’ It’s Ben Knot’s turn to add insult to injury. ‘You should be proud of that thing.’ Ben is smirking and sliding his arm around Annie’s waist, but she shrugs him off and glares at Dave Patel to stop filming. Mark staggers off to the changing room.
His triumph is marred with ridicule. They always spoil everything. He came in second, but it counts for nothing. Patel has it all on film, Annie was laughing at him, they all were. Is this always how it’s going to be? Is there nothing he can ever do to make them stop? He heads to his locker. The plan has been fermenting in his mind like mould. Now it’s time to get his revenge. He takes something out of his backpack, sees Dave Patel’s sports bag shoved under the benches, opens the zip and places it inside.266
He’s already showered and dry by the time the others get into the changing room, combing his wet hair in the mirror, calmly watching them pile in.
‘All right, donkey boy.’ Chris undresses, releasing a ripe stench that clears the area around him by a few feet.
‘Did you get it on film?’ Ben nudges Patel.
‘All of it!’ Patel snorts at his own joke and picks his bag up from under the bench. The zip is half open; he is about to stuff the camera inside when Ben sidles up behind him.
‘Woah, Casanova … what’s all this?’ Ben yanks at a pair of white lace-trimmed knickers peeking out through the gap in the zip.
‘Sod off, losers.’ Patel sits on the bench and removes his socks. ‘Whose bright idea was this?’
Ben Knot pulls on the zip. ‘Duh duh duh … de duh duh der …’ The stripper song accompanies the tease of underwear emerging from the bag. ‘Dirty little dark horse, aren’t you, Patel.’ He helicopters the underwear above his head.
‘No idea who they belong to.’ Patel is red in the face.
Mark looks at the reflection in the steamed-up mirror, enjoying watching someone else having to endure that sinking feeling in their stomach.
‘Unless they’re yours?’ Chris chips in.
Patel grabs his towel and opens his locker door, but Ben has frozen. He is standing holding the lacy knickers. Inspecting the name tag: A Maddock, in green stitching, sewn into the back.
‘Where did you get these?’ His voice is trembling with rage. Patel turns to him but before he has a chance to answer, Ben punches him in the face. Dave’s head whiplashes back and he hits the deck.
Ben holds the underwear aloft. He scans the room, dizzy with adrenaline.267
‘You all know about this? Huh?’ No one speaks. ‘Is my girlfriend screwing him? Someone better pipe up or he’s dead.’ Everyone is in shock. Dave Patel is on the floor holding his nose as the blood begins to flow.
Dave is on his feet and face to face with Ben. ‘Say that again?’ The rage between them is terrifying. Patel grabs Ben by the neck, hauling him up like an animal, ready to spit in his face. Then he drops him like a rag and boots the locker door with such force that it buckles like tin foil. He picks up his bag and crashes out of the changing room.
Everyone is in shock. Silence falls over the boys. For the first time ever, Ben Knot is no longer Top Dog, it’s all about Dave Patel now. Ben visibly shrinks before everyone’s eyes, but he focuses on the door, then his gaze falls on the item of underwear balled up in his clenched fist. No one does this to Ben Knot. No one.
Mark watches with glee, enjoying every single sordid moment. He smiles to himself, imagining the shit Annie is going to be in now. Serves her right for telling everyone his secret, serves Ben right for all the punches.
Serves Patel right for being an onlooker and doing nothing.
It serves them all right.268
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JULY 2024
Lily squirmed uncomfortably in the passenger seat of Dani’s Jaguar, chewing her fingernails.
‘I’m not sure about this now.’ She folded her arms over her chest; the acid-green Poison Ivy catsuit that Dani had ordered on Amazon left little to the imagination.
‘What? You look amazing.’ Dani indicated and pulled into the school car park. ‘If you’ve got it … flaunt it.’
