SEBASTIAN AND DANIEL
A semi-autobiographical LGBT coming-of-age story about a pair of social outcasts who find peace within each other’s company. May contain uncompromising real-world situations.
CHAPTER THREE
Glaciologists and seismologists now agree, with approximate certainty, that the tsunami approaching the English east coast city of Bradbury Gate had been triggered by the breaching of a mountain range-sized ice dam in Norway. This breach, caused by global warming, allowed a hitherto undiscovered lake, rising thousands of feet above sea level, to spill into the otherwise-calm North Sea.
The author is informing the reader of these events at the outset of this chapter, as, from the perspective of history, the hows and whys of the catastrophe now wane in comparison to those that succeeded it. Looking back, our sensitive protagonist, Sebastian, often wondered what he would have done without the flood, even though he lost everything and everyone in his life up until that point.
The first he and his classmates at Archampton District Secondary School knew of the destructive wave, about to devastate their lives, was the tremor. Perhaps, if they had been closer to the source, they would have experienced an almighty earthquake; but, for the population of the already-struggling school, it just felt like a heavy goods vehicle rolling past the grounds.
The most accurate estimate now, is that the meltwater pulse travelled across from one side of the sea to the other in approximately half-an-hour.
And it was unstoppable.
What eventually collided with the educational building Sebastian sat in, was not so much a wave as a creeping pool of saltwater. It ebbed, at first unnoticed, through the main gate and under the playground fence and the sports ground hedge. Once attention had been drawn to it, everybody just thought a mains pipe or water tank had burst; but, as the flood began entering the main building, showing no signs of stopping, panic broke out.
Students and teachers alike climbed onto their chairs, forgetting previous disputes whilst they aided one another. As the water level rose higher and higher, as did the school population up one level onto their desks and workbenches. Then, with an almighty crash, the windows gave way to the pressure, and sheets of razor-sharp glass sliced into Sebastian’s classroom, cutting his water-treading classmates to bloodied ribbons.
As Sebastian began to drift uncontrollably out of the room, he remembered the boy he had seen studying alone in the room next door. He was an older lad, of about exam-age. An intense sort. Brooding. Pouting. With a fridge of dark-brown hair partially obscuring the right side of his olive-skinned features. He was possibly named “Martin”, but Sebastian had been too shy to ask around for confirmation. It was the same boy who had smiled at Sebastian once, as the two passed in the corridor three weeks, five hours, and twenty-six minutes ago.
Sebastian decided that Martin, if indeed that was his name, would not be allowed to drown.
As the uncertainly-shifting current began to pull Sebastian away from Martin’s room, he reached out and clasped the door handle, pulling it down and opening the door as he pushed away from the opposite wall with his feet. Anxiously surveying the bare room, he spotted Martin in the far corner, pinned against a bookcase by a mass of floating desks and chairs. Sebastian swam through the swamp of textbooks and unmarked schoolwork, receiving numerous paper cuts as he went, until he was able to start pulling furniture away from the other pupil’s body.
As the rescue attempt continued, so did the rising height of the water. Eventually, the window and door frames were almost totally submerged, blocking any easy escape.
Martin reached out and wrapped his arms around Sebastian’s shoulders, a look of terror in his grey eyes. Or were they brown? Sebastian had never gotten a proper look. Regardless, Martin was clearly unable to swim. Sebastian kept hold of him and kicked his own legs until the two boys reached the row of broken windows, but, by then, the water level was too high and the jagged shards of broken glass hanging down from the pane offered an impenetrable and deadly obstacle.
As the ceiling and certain death grimly approached, the two boys suddenly felt a wave of calm acceptance wash over them. They looked into each other’s eyes and, for their last few seconds of life, smiled, knowing they were not about to die alone.
“Do you want to copy mine?” Came a voice from out of sight.
Sebastian found himself unceremoniously pulled back into reality from his routine mathematics lesson daydream.
He turned to the owner of the voice sat next to him, a boy who laughingly referred to himself as Sebastian’s friend, and shook his head.
“No, it’s okay.” Said Sebastian, looking down at his workbook for the first time in five minutes. “I think I’ve got it.”
His “friend”, Gavin, then punched Sebastian hard on the upper arm.
“Stop drifting off, twat-face.” He said, smiling menacingly.
Sebastian had amounted quite a collection of bruises on his arm, thanks to Gavin’s unique style of platonic communication. The boy, donning spiky blond hair and a perpetual smirk, knew where to strike so as not to draw attention to his friendly assaults. Sebastian grimly wondered whether Gavin had learned this trick from a parent.
“I won’t.” Sebastian said, hoping passivity would placate his assailant.
Punch.
“That’s for if you forget.” Said Gavin, turning back to his own maths workbook.
There was a sudden clip-clop of heels, then a shadow fell upon the desk in front of Sebastian.
“Did you wander off again, Finch?!” Said his teacher, Mrs Bracken, a woman who always appeared to be shrouded in a monochrome veil of dourness. Her crow-like features were perfectly rounded-off by a cardigan she wore over her shoulders, like one would sport a cape.
“Sorry, miss.” Said Sebastian, shifting his workbook to cover his absentminded doodlings below.
The teacher picked up his workbook and dropped it onto Gavin’s side of the twin desk. With a perplexed grimace, the woman shuffled through Sebastian’s amateurish drawings. The first was of a tree by a river; the next was of a human eye; the third was of a man being crushed by a car, with red pen used to represent a geyser of blood; and the final was apparently Sebastian’s attempt at the poster for a fictitious movie he had titled “Pontoon Railway”, which was “Coming Soon!”. The imagery on this mock-poster featured a great wave about to devour a familiar municipal building.
“They’re for art class.” Said Sebastian, his heart pounding.
Gavin cackled and surreptitiously kicked his desk-mate carefully out of the authoritarian’s vision.
“It’s not, miss!” He said, spitefully shoving Sebastian’s workbook back to where it belonged. “He’s not been working.”
Sebastian’s gaze fell down to his fidgeting hands.
“I’ll show them to your form tutor.” Said Mrs Bracken. “And you’ll sit with me for detention at three-fifteen, do you understand?!”
“Yes, miss.” Said Sebastian, compliant as he always felt it best to be.
Mrs Bracken stalked back off in direction of the windows, where she would look out at the playground for misbehaving pupils. This was one of her favourite pastimes, as it meant she had the opportunity to shout at somebody.
Punch.
“Ow!” Said Sebastian, tears forming in his eyes.
It had been a particularly vicious strike, that ha dug into an already-blackened patch of skin.
“That’s for wasting Mrs Bracken’s time!” Said Gavin, continuing his malevolent cackle.
The surrounding pupils had begun paying attention to the minor drama at the back of the classroom, cooing sarcastically in chorus at Sebastian’s extracurricular sentencing.
Although deep down he knew he would reconsider once a cooler head prevailed, Sebastian decided that this would be his last day of miserable, painful, humiliating attendance.
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