‘YOUNG TOI, YA FUCKIN DAFTIES.’

McGiver stands wae his back tae us, lookin oot the windae as it gets hit wae wee bottles ae Irn-Bru n beer tins. The big man looks like the caped crusader lookin over his city.

We aw start creepin up behind him, chokin fur a peek oot intae the street. He raises a hand, ‘Stay back, boys.’

We aw edge closer n huv a look oot. There’s at least twenty ae them standin, aw wae trackies on. They’ve git poles n wine bottles n their elder wans ir there. McGiver stands silently. A think he wishes he could just run oot n git stuck intae the bastards cos A know A’m fuckin dyin tae. Ma thoughts ir broken by big skinny Blakley sprintin oot the door, legs goin like the fuckin clappers. This isnae Mad Max. They aw shite themselves n sprint like fuck. A hear ma name gittin shouted as they turn n run. It floats through the windae’s new ventilation hole.

‘AZZY WILLIAMS IS A DEAD MAN!’

‘YOUNG TOI!’

A’m standin next tae Big McGiver at the broken windae. There’s wan ae his posters lyin under shards ae broken glass. His angry look has faded tae acceptance. McGiver wisnae like the rest ae the teachers. They fired referrals at yi constant n fucked yi oot intae the corridors fur talkin or carryin on. Yi spent as much time oot there as yi did in a class. The big yin cared n wis tryin tae help us. Addison is sittin textin away over in the circle ae plastic chairs. A see Broonie tuckin intae the sandwiches, openin them up n stickin crisps between them n knockin back the ginger like a pint at closin time.

‘Yi tried yir best, sir.’

‘I know, Alan. It’s very disappointing. What can we do with you all?’

We share a look but there’s nae answer tae the big man’s question.

‘A dunno.’

‘Me neither, Alan.’

Bandit Country

A stick ma heed oot the windae n light a smoke up. It’s gone midnight noo n the snow is still fallin. The flakes ir black against the swirlin purple n orange sky above. The smoke looks blue against the white ground. It’s Christmas Eve, but this year it doesnae really feel like it. The tree is up doon the stairs wae coloured lights n ma presents ir tucked away in the back of ma maw’s wardrobe. A loved Christmas when A wis wee n still git excited aboot it deep doon. Ma maw went tae hur bed an hour ago n the hoose went quiet wae nae tele on n nae daft Christmas music. We used tae go tae the Watchnight service in the church tae see in Christmas mornin, but the past year or two A hud patched it n went oot wae the troops instead, runnin the streets until late. Since aw the shite at the school, ma maw’s been worried sick. She says she’s distraught suhin’s gonnae happen tae me n it keeps hur awake at night.