I was on the top deck of the bus when I saw a lad with thick black curly hair. He reminded me of our Kenny. They were a group of schoolkids, in their uniforms. It was only eleven o’clock, so I think they’d probably come out of an exam. It is that time of year.
There were about five lads, all well behaved. In my experience that’s not usually the case: there’s lots of pushing, shoving, and bullying. But this time there were lasses and boys behave well when there are girls about.
This lad was awfully thin with a very pale face, even though we’ve had some good sun these past days. I first noticed the hair. It was like Kenny’s, he could never get a comb to go through his and as I remember Kenny, it always needed cutting.
This lad I’m talking about had one of those rucksacks they all have today. It looks like they’re going trekking, not sitting their GCSEs. Kenny had a proper briefcase. It was a school rule, no duffel bags allowed.
This lad was popular; he was surrounded by girls. The other lads couldn’t get a look in. He was good looking, like our Kenny. It’s being so pale that attracts girls.
The lad and his girls didn’t get on my bus, they must have needed the 86. The bus pulled away and I was left alone with my thoughts about our Kenny and what he might have grown up to be.
Words: Richard Rooney
Illustration: A.I.
Flash Fiction 250
Flash Fiction 250 