Deep Wate - Sarah Epstein Page 0,33

invincible all at once. Even as the pain of each blow registered, Mason felt more alive than he had in months.

But now, slumped on the filthy floor, he felt the ache of his injuries and a familiar hollowness sinking into his limbs. He was even heavier than before. He didn’t know if he could stand. His eyes traced the lines of tile and grout until his vision blurred and everything slid out of focus. It reminded him of another bathroom, another incident, so many years ago but always close at hand.

I didn’t do anything, he heard himself telling his mother. He just slipped under.

Mason thumped his head against the concrete wall, trying to rid himself of his mother’s face, her distrust and disappointment forever seared into his brain. The way she’d pushed him aside to wrench Henry out of the tub, the way she glared at Mason and snarled, ‘Something’s not right with you!’ Henry’s cries filling the bathroom, bouncing off the tiles, overloud and everywhere.

Not right. Not right. Not right.

Mason released a long breath and a tender spot below his ribs ached in protest. The pocket of his school shorts vibrated. He reached down and pulled out his phone to find a message from Tom.

I brought your bag to class. Where are you?

Mason rattled off a quick explanation and waited. He knew Tom would come. He’d helped Mason out of some pretty tough spots without an ounce of judgement, and the way things were going, it was more than likely Tom would have to bail him out again. They were close, and the possibility of Tom going away for university in a couple of months filled Mason with a strange blend of dread, denial and desolate loneliness.

‘Your little boyfriend.’

The words spun around and around inside his pounding head. Foster had just been talking crap as usual, but unlike everything else that loser said, Mason couldn’t seem to let these particular words go.

Within minutes he heard quick footsteps outside in the corridor. Two sets, it turned out. Tom appeared in the doorway with Raf following close behind. Mason was surprised – Raf wasn’t in their class; he was in the year below.

‘I texted Raf,’ Tom explained as they hurried over to him. ‘Wasn’t sure what state you’d be in. Thought I might need some backup.’

‘Any excuse to get out of Maths,’ Raf joked. He hissed when he saw the state of Mason’s lip. ‘Maaate. You’re literally about to graduate. You couldn’t get through two more weeks without rearranging Foster’s face?’

Mason almost laughed. ‘Don’t think I quite managed that. He did have a bloody nose, though. Total fluke. I think it was my elbow.’

‘Here,’ Tom said, tearing some paper towel from the dispenser and running it under the tap. He crouched in front of Mason and dabbed around his mouth. Mason’s bottom lip was throbbing now and felt like it had doubled in size.

He sucked in a sharp breath through gritted teeth. ‘Stings.’ ‘Should have thought of that before you went looking for a fight,’ Tom said, wiping the damp paper towel across Mason’s chin. It came away a deep watery pink. Raf grabbed a few more sheets from the dispenser and dampened them under the tap.

‘He cornered me. I wasn’t looking for anything.’

‘Who threw the first punch?’ Tom asked.

‘He was hassling me.’

‘Just an idea,’ Raf said, ‘but you could, you know, ignore his crap and not let him get to you.’

‘Easy for you to say,’ Mason mumbled, then instantly wished he could retract it. Foster had been tossing racist insults at Raf and Sabeen since primary school, not to mention offensive comments about their gay mums. That Raf was able to let those remarks wash over him was a testament to his even temper, how comfortable he felt in his own skin. How did he convince himself to feel like that? How did anyone?

‘What did Foster say?’ Tom asked, taking Mason by the upper arm. Raf jumped in and grabbed the other, and together they hauled Mason to his feet.

‘Doesn’t matter,’ Mason answered, avoiding their eyes. He leaned against the sink, taking a moment to assess which parts of him ached the most.

Raf switched on the cold tap and encouraged Mason to stick his knuckles under the running water. As he did so, Mason scrutinised his reflection in the mirror. His blond hair was stringy with sweat, one side of his shirt collar flipped up. His lip was bulging but his face didn’t seem too swollen anywhere else. A couple