This was the first piece of coursework I had to do. It isn't perfect for a short story but I thought I'd let you have a look anyway...
Under the Apple Tree
I had not seen him before. A boy, he sat amongst the wilderness of the brick forest, his face as vacant as the buildings which surrounded his fragile frame. I stared attentively into his blank face, his eyes encased in a thick fog of tears, recently fallen.
None of the other children invited him into their private games. He sat alone with none but a small notebook to accompany him in his sorrows.
A sudden urge to comfort him confronted me harder than the wall of tough red brick which separated my body from his. Though a sign: ‘PRIVATE PROPERTY OF FREEWOOD BOARDING SCHOOL’ viewed me with suspicion as I heaved myself onto and over the wall, the teachers who usually patrolled the grounds had deemed it too cold for trespassers.
A new school, a new crowd, a new home. Though many of his former playmates would have been thrilled to get away from the boring half-life he had belonged to, Oliver could feel nothing but despair as his eyes wandered over the thickly crowded playground. It was his mother who had done this to him, abandoned him when all he needed was family. It was his fathers’ fault, but his mother’s decision. Oliver could understand that a job promotion was important to his father, but was he really in the way of this? Apparently so, he muttered to himself.
Oliver moved the thick dark hair which framed his face out of his view as he noticed something the other children did not. A girl, not more than a year older than himself, was pulled herself cautiously over the wall. Luckily, her discretion kept her from view of the other playmates. Oliver simply watched her awkwardly as she glided over the wall in a manner more elegant than he thought possible and made her way swiftly towards his otherwise empty bench.
She would have made it all the way - staying in the shadows - if a boy from the upper years had not reached him first. His friends jeering him on, a shady smile took its place on his face. He grabbed Oliver’s small notebook and threw it into the dusty air. It fell rapidly back down onto the sodden ground, cold and dead beneath their feet.
A dark glare masked the girl’s expression, making her already sinister appearance even more menacing than it had previously been. She turned on her heels, blocking Oliver’s desperate face as the older boy drew closer and glided as discreetly as she had come back over the wall, the deep frown still painted roughly across her face.
I lay under my apple tree, gazing at the stars which cast a beautiful light on all around me. It was pointless trying to get to sleep. All I could do was picture his face. The new boy was so innocent, so fragile. How dare the other boarders treat him ,like that! He was my…my…that was the problem. I did not know him. I had never even spoken to him. All I could do was pray that I would get the chance to see those mysterious grey eyes again, maybe he would be able to come and see my home, my apple tree, if the time was right. That was when I came up with the plan.
Sunlight was already staining the sky in a crimson wash. I moved, swiftly, quietly, between the narrow alleys in which many shops were already opening. I grabbed a couple of pieces of fruit from the nearest store and made a subtle exit past the fountain and on towards the school. With both pieces of fruit in hand, all I had to do was wait. Wait for the right moment, wait for the boy.
Days were getting no better for Oliver at Freewood Boarding School. They were days full of distress and loneliness, shuffling like a misplaced hole between the happy crowds to lesson after lesson, each one worse than the one before. One thing did keep him going through the day: his notebook. Inside the small notebook was every drawing he had ever sketched. If it wasn’t for his parents wanting him to follow in their footsteps, it wouldn’t have been hard for him to make a living as an artist.
His most recent drawing was a portrait; a portrait of a girl. Her long, dirty blonde hair was drew back behind her ears and her unusual rich, amber eyes smiled brightly inside the mask of dirt which covered her face and much of her simple clothing. It was a drawing of the girl who had walked away from him when Tom and the others had come to torment him again. Though he was determined not to like the girl, Oliver was strangely sure that he wanted her to be there when he walked out to the playground at break. She was there.
I saw him almost immediately. Whilst other children settled into their groups and assumed their most recent games, one child took his place on a small bench.
Not wanting to miss the chance, I jumped over the wall before easing carefully over to his bench. It was then I realised that he was giving me a look of when the shop-keepers realise you stole their fruit.
“Would you like some fruit? You don’t have to if you want to, you know.”
She asked him. When everyone else only gave and took away, never asking if he wanted it, she offered. He was no longer alone.
An older boy started walking towards Oliver and I (I found out his name almost immediately after I gave him the apple). He was the same boy who had been cruel to Oliver the day before, his friends still following.
“Well, look what we have here guys! Our little friend has a lover - from the wrong side of the wall! Get out of here, scum. You don’t belong round here. Your home is in the dump out back,” his voice grew deeper and quieter, a true hatred clear in his tone. This drew a crowd around us almost immediately. I nodded at Harry, a good friend of mine, to sort out the bully and his friends later. He nodded back. Then I ran.
Pulling Oliver behind me, I leapt over the wall and ran. His face was a picture, almost screaming as we shot between the stalls and through the thronging crowds. He didn’t calm down until we I got him to my home. My apple tree.
Oliver had never seen a place like that before. In the whole abandoned orchard, only one tree still grew fruit. That was her home. Underneath the apple tree lived Grace.
They talked about everything. Oliver said about his family, Grace about hers. Both were sad tales, but they agreed not to speak of them around each other. Mainly, they talked about his drawings. Under the apple tree, a bond like no other was created out of a small notebook belonging to a small boy.
By the time they reached the end of the last subject, the sky was almost as dark as Oliver’s skin. In panic, Oliver reached for his notebook and began to run, before looking back at Grace blindly. He did not know the way.
Grace stood and grabbed hold of his wrist. “I’ll show you the way if you promise me one thing.”
Oliver nodded for her to carry on.
“Never leave me. Never go. Promise you wont leave me like the others.”
“I promise.”
The journey the rest of the way back to the school was made in silence, except for the end.
“Meet me here every day. Please,” Oliver’s small hands gripped hers tightly, waiting for the big grin to spread across her face in a warm yes. It did. Oliver’s heart grew warmer than it never had been inside his chest and he turned back towards Freewood Boarding School, a rough smile scattered lightly across his face. They would meet again and they did meet again. Many, many times, underneath the apple tree, once Oliver knew the way.
He was not by the apple tree. Not once had he ever been late, not once. He was not by the tree. I waited for what felt like hours under the shade of the blossoming branches. Still, he did not come.
My head had trouble keeping my mind in place. He was gone, but where? As my thoughts wandered through possible scenes - each more distressing than the last - it was the final scene which flickered by body into action. I ran. Down the streets, past the screeching buyers and sellers, through the crowd. Please, please don’t be true.
A boy stood near the school wall. I recognised him as a boy from the same year as Oliver. It was Henry.
“Hey, you. Yeah, you, Where’s Oliver?” I tried to conceal the anxious tension which tightened its grip around my mind, twisting my hands around each other in a painful pattern.
“Ollie? Did he not tell you? His mother came to pick him up last night. He’s long gone. Left by train to London ‘bout three hours ago. Why?”
His words trailed behind me like loose string. Oliver had left me. Just like everyone else in my life, Oliver was gone. I thought he needed me. I needed him, but it was too late for that now.
A sweeping calm brushed the tears from my eyes and I stepped into the shadows. It was time for me to go.
Oliver let images of Grace and himself plague his mind. No tears stung his vacant face. Emotion ran amok inside his chest but no-one would see it. He would not let them.
If only I could have told her. The only thought that ran repeatedly through his mind was this. If only…if only…
It was too late now. He had left her on her own. Oliver tried to calm himself down as he remembered the many times she had told him never to leave her, like the others had done. The many times I promised I never would hit harder.
His mother had not believed him when he said he wanted to stay at Freewood. She had simply ignored Oliver when he pleaded for her to bring Grace with them.
She sighed deeply as she handed Oliver a small cutting from the daily newspaper.
“You see Oliver , love, this is why you had to leave. It could have been you. Never mind, at least you’re safe.”
Oliver slowly took the paper from her hand, trying to hide his shaking fingers with the movement of the train. A lone tear sank down his face as he brought the small, crumpled cutting to his chest.
Grace Orchard was found dead under the apple tree early this morning. May she rest in peace.
