Deep Wate - Sarah Epstein Page 0,32

flat-nosed face. ‘What?’

‘Have a good perve, did ya?’ Foster said, glancing down at his own junk.

Mason turned his face to the wall again as he zipped up his fly. ‘What the hell are you on about?’

Foster zipped up his pants too without having pissed at all as far as Mason could tell. That’s when he realised it wasn’t what Foster had come in there to do.

Darren Foster had hated Mason’s guts ever since that day in the preschool playground; little had they known it was a preview of what was to come. Foster got his kicks pushing Tom around in primary school too, and Mason had always stepped in to protect him. He ended up getting into his fair share of scraps with Foster until both of their mothers got called into the school principal’s office in Year Five with a warning about suspension. For a year and a half, Foster finally left them alone.

But in high school the insults and ridiculing started all over again. Foster was the kind of guy with such low self-esteem that he had to pick fault with every single person he came across. For the most part Mason had been able to ignore it, and their shoving matches had been few and far between. No one cared what Foster had to say. The fact that he’d even made it through to Year Twelve without dropping out, being expelled or dying in some Darwin Awards-style accident was a bloody miracle.

Today was different. Mason sensed it as he paused at the sink to rinse his hands. Foster moved between him and the exit.

‘Now I’m gunna have to tell everyone I caught you staring at my dick.’

Mason forced a quick sarcastic smile. ‘Okay, dumbarse. You do that.’

He knew what this was really about. Foster was Stu Macleod’s nephew and he’d really wanted the mechanic apprenticeship at the workshop. Stu had already told Mason he’d never had any intention of employing his sister’s lazy son, even though she’d been nagging him about it for years. ‘You’re the better man for the job,’ Stu told him, and Mason was conflicted. He really needed the job and was grateful for the opportunity, but he also had one eye on the road.

Foster had already threatened Mason not to take the apprenticeship, then badmouthed him to Stu, and had since let down the tyres on Mason’s Subaru in the school car park. Mason felt the seething anger radiating off the guy whenever he passed him outside a classroom, and knew it was only a matter of time before Foster would throw a punch.

As Mason attempted to get past him to the bathroom exit, Foster leaned one arm against the wall to block his path. Mason tried to duck under it, but Foster's arm dropped onto his shoulders and snaked itself around Mason’s neck, dragging him into a headlock.

‘Get off!’ he yelled, his voice muffled against Foster’s stomach. He tried to pull himself backwards, but Foster had him pinned against the wall. The bell had already signalled the end of lunch, and fifth period was now underway. There was no one outside in the corridor.

‘If you keep staring at my dick,’ Foster said, puffing with the effort of holding Mason down, ‘you’re gunna make your little boyfriend jealous.’

Mason flexed his body, forcing Foster into the wall. The arm pinning him loosened enough for Mason to wrench his head free. He backed away a few steps into the centre of the bathroom as Foster straightened up again, moving towards him with his chin down and his shoulders hunched.

‘Come on then,’ Foster sneered, grabbing his crotch. ‘You wanna give us a blowie?’

Mason shoved both hands hard against Foster’s chest. ‘Get out of my way.’

Foster smirked. ‘Aww. You on your period, princess?’

A fist came out of nowhere and Foster’s head snapped sideways. Mason only realised the blow had come from him when he felt the shooting pain across his knuckles and up through his hand. He couldn’t recall exactly what went down between that first hit and Foster’s knee to his groin. Lots of arm swinging and few connections, more shoving and wrestling, a volley of swearwords back and forth. Mason wasn’t much of a fighter, but it did give him a sense of satisfaction to watch Foster limp out of the toilets with a bloody nose and buttons missing from his shirt.

I lost myself there for a minute.

It had been like a drug, the rush of blood and anger and adrenaline making him dizzy and