It Starts At Home

The bell rang, signalling the end of the first day at Chelmer Valley High School. I felt an overwhelming sense of relief wash over me. The weight of the day's events bore heavily on me; all I wanted was to get home. The journey back was quiet, my mind replaying the moments—some good, some not so good—but mostly the embarrassment I still felt about arriving late to the Year 7 assembly.

When I finally arrived home, I kicked off my shoes and dropped my bag by the door. My mum was in the kitchen, preparing dinner.

"Miles, how was your day?" she asked, her voice warm and welcoming.

"It was fine, Mum," I replied with a smile, convincing enough for her not to pry further. "Just a bit tiring, that's all."

I made my way up to my room, my feet dragging slightly. The room I shared with my younger brother Ronan, was small but felt like our safe sanctuary. Posters of my favourite football player, Rozarinho, adorned the walls. Rozarinho was a Brazilian football prodigy, only 21, and already a superstar at FCB, a great team in Spain. I admired everything about him: his flair, his confidence, his ability to make the game look effortless.

I collapsed onto my bed, staring at the ceiling, the day's events swirling in my mind. I closed my eyes, hoping to shut out the thoughts, but they persisted. My body felt heavy and emotionally drained. I wanted to sink into another reality, just for a moment.

Suddenly, the door burst open. My younger brother Ronan, brimming with energy, bounced into the room.

"Miles! Miles! How's high school?! What's it like?! Can we play football?!" My brother's enthusiasm was infectious, and despite my exhaustion, I couldn't help but smile a little.

"Sure, let's go," I said, pushing myself up from the bed.

We headed to the village park, a short walk from our home. The park was small, but it had a football field, complete with nets in the goals. It was our favourite place to play, we'd always spend countless hours practicing skills. I dribbled the ball around with ease, showing Ronan some impressive tricks.

"Watch this, Ronan," I said, flicking the ball up with my foot and spinning it around with a quick flick. Ronan is always eager to learn, he watched me intently before attempting to replicate the move.

"Miles! Teach me! Another one! Please!" he shouted, his eyes wide with excitement.

But as the wind rustled through the trees, something shifted in me. I stood still, my gaze fixated on something in the distance. My mind started to wander away from the present, my thoughts consumed by the day—by the stares, the whispers, the feeling of being out of place. My face remained neutral, masking the mix of emotions churning inside.

Ronan pinched my arm, jolting me back to reality. "Miles! You're not paying attention!" Ronan whined.

"That's enough for now," I said, my voice distant. "Let's go home."

"But we just started!" Ronan protested, pouting.

"Mum will be calling us for dinner soon anyway," I added, already walking away. Ronan trailed behind, still grumbling.

Dinner was ready when we got home. The kitchen smelled of warm spices, the comforting aroma filling the house. As we sat at the table, the front door opened, and Dad walked in.

"Welcome home, sweetheart," Miles's mother greeted, her tone gentle and loving.

"Good evening," Dad responded, his voice deep and steady. My dad was a tall man, around 6 feet, with dark skin, African curly hair, and a beard that gave him a serious, thoughtful look.

Ronan ran to him, throwing his arms around Dad's waist. "Dad! Guess what? I had the best day at school! My teacher said I was really good at reading, and we played football at lunch, and—" Ronan's words tumbled out in a rush, his excitement bubbling over. I, on the other hand, avoided eye contact with Dad. I felt a weight settle on my chest, a sense of shame I couldn't quite shake. Dad turned to me, his gaze sharp.

"And what about you, Miles? How was your first day?"

I forced a smile, the one I had used earlier with Mum. The one thing I was good at was faking or rather masking how I felt. "It was fine! Just a bit tiring to be honest."

Before Dad could respond, Ronan jumped in, eager to share more. "Dad, guess what else? My friend Max's older brother told me he saw Miles at school today! He said Miles was late to the assembly!" Ronan giggled innocently, clearly unaware of the tension his words would create. "Ronan! You idiot!" I snapped with annoyance. He stuck his tongue out at me. I'll get him back for that.

I stiffened, my face paling slightly.

"Is that true, Miles?" Dad asked, his voice suddenly stern.

I hesitated for a moment, then straightened up, composing myself. "Yeah, it happened. But it wasn't my fault. A teacher wouldn't help me, and I forgot about the letter in the post."

Dad shook his head slowly. "That's very embarrassing, Miles. You need to pay more attention."

I looked away, "disappointed in me as usual huh? This ain't nothing new." I thought. Mum sensed the tension, and she tried to soften the moment. "It's not his fault. He could've used some help."

But Dad wasn't having it. "He should've been more organized. These things matter, especially on the first day."

Ronan, oblivious to the seriousness of the conversation, chimed in, "Yeah, Miles! You should've paid attention like Dad said."

I sighed, my frustration bubbling beneath the surface. I pushed my chair back slightly, ready to leave the table, but Dad didn't let me.

"Where do you think you're going?" Dad asked, his tone making it clear that leaving wasn't an option.

"I just—"

"You're staying right here," Dad said firmly. "You need to understand the importance of focusing, of being prepared. This isn't primary school anymore. You have to take responsibility."

For the next thirty minutes, I sat at the table, enduring a lecture about the importance of paying attention, being organized, and taking school seriously. Mum quietly packed away the food and plates, occasionally glancing over at me with a look of sympathy. Ronan was tasked with helping clear the table, though he only compiled after Dad gave him that look.

When the lecture was finally over, I was left to dry the plates. My mind felt numb, It sucks hard when one of your parents is disappointed in you. After finishing the dishes, I trudged upstairs to my room.

I slumped into bed, staring up at the ceiling once again. The posters of Rozarinho seemed distant now, as though they belonged to someone else. I felt disconnected from everything around me. The day had taken more out of me than I expected. In the silence of my room, the world outside seemed blurry.

I just wanted to forget everything—the awkward stares, the assembly embarrassment, Dad's disappointment. My thoughts began to drift when the familiar buzzing sound of my tablet caught my attention. I glanced over. It was Thomas.

I hesitated for a moment. I wasn't really in the mood to talk, but I've been friends with Thomas for some time, he'd get mad if I ignored him. I picked up the tablet and answered the video call.

The screen flickered to life, and Thomas's face appeared—his glasses slightly askew as usual, his smile already in place. Thomas is Nigerian, with short, neat hair and a warm, welcoming energy that always made me feel at home, no matter the distance between us.

"Yo, Miles! What's good, bro?" Thomas greeted me, his voice full of excitement. "How's the countryside treating you?" 

I managed a small smile, sitting up on the bed. "Hey, Thomas. It's... different, man. Definitely not London."

"Bruv, I can imagine! Everything must be so quiet over there. No corner shops, no chicken spots, no loud bus rides?" Thomas chuckled, clearly amused at the idea of me adjusting to such a rural place.

"Yeah, none of that here. Just fields and old houses," I replied, leaning back against the wall. "What about you? What's going on back in London?"

"Same old, same old. London's as busy as ever. But bruv, you've got no idea—our high school's got some mad drama going on. You remember Jaden from year 6, right? The one who used to always cause trouble? He went to the same secondary as me and Man, he's already got suspended."

I couldn't help but laugh a little. "Jaden? Again? What did he do this time?"

"Bruv, he tried to sneak out of school during lunch break to get chicken wings. It's mad over here," Thomas replied, shaking his head.

I laughed, feeling a sense of relief. Talking to Thomas always made me feel better. Even though we're in different places now, our bond hasn't changed. We talked for a while, catching up on all the little things—what our friends were up to, what was happening in my old neighbourhood. It was like slipping back into a comfortable rhythm.

"How's Chelmer Valley, though?" Thomas finally asked, his tone shifting to something more serious. "You settling in alright?"

I paused for a moment, my fingers tapping on the edge of the tablet. "It's... different," I admitted, my voice quieter now. "It's not bad, but... I don't know. I'm still figuring it out."

Thomas's brow furrowed slightly behind his glasses. "Yeah? What's going on?"

I took a deep breath, unsure of how much I wanted to share. "It's just... I was late to the assembly, and it was embarrassing. Plus, I feel like I don't fit in. Most of the kids are... different."

Thomas nodded, he understood what I meant without needing to say it outright. "Yeah, I hear that."

"You know... most of them don't look like us," I said, feeling kinda annoyed as I continued. "I'm one of the only Black kids in Year 7, I just get bare stares and weird looks, it's just jarring."

"Yeah, I get you, man. That must be tough," Thomas said, his voice full of empathy. "But hey, you're Miles. You'll pattern it. And if anyone tries anything, remember I've got you yeah? I'll smoke them!"

I chuckled softly. "Yeah, I hear that, love bro."

As the call ended, I put the tablet down and leaned back on my bed. The room was quiet again, but the heavy feeling in my chest didn't seem as overwhelming now. Talking to Thomas reminded me that I wasn't alone at least.