Rebel, Rebel

The office canteen was busy, as usual. There had been talk of staggering the lunch-break so that everyone could get a seat but as of yet, it was all still something of a free-for-all. 

The canteen was crammed full, as people warmed their pre-packed food in the microwaves and made mugs of tea and coffee, before dining at the tables. Dale Farrell looked around the busy room hoping for a free seat. When he spied a free seat across the room, he weaved his way quickly in the direction of the vacant spot.

He plonked his sandwiches and cola down on the table and took the seat. 

When he saw who was sitting at the seat next to him, Dale sighed. He had been hoping to have a laugh on his break with some of his work-mates, maybe chat about the weekend’s sports results. No chance of that with James. 

James Stanford was the office geek. While Dale and his friends drank beer and watched the football at the weekend, James would be visiting to the city’s museums and art galleries. He didn’t even make a secret of it. If you asked him what his plans were for the weekend, he’d tell you. No shame. Even now, the guy was actually sitting there, with no shame or embarrassment, reading a volume of poetry. What was wrong with the guy? Could he not either chit-chat to his colleagues or scroll through social media like everyone else? How could he just sit there leafing through a poetry book in front of everyone?

‘You enjoying your book, Jimmy?’ Dale asked. 

James looked up from the book.

‘Yes, it’s rather good, actually.’ James replied.

‘I’m sure it is. Looks fascinating.’ He laughed. 

Even the way James dressed stood him out from the others in the office. The dress-code stipulated no t-shirts, jeans or trainers. Other than that, you could more or less wear what you wanted. Dale, like most of the lads in the office, wore a polo-shirt and cargo trousers to work. He looked smarter than he did at weekends, but only slightly. James, on the other hand, came to work wearing a shirt and tie, and a V neck jumper. 

As he munched on his sandwich, Dale studied James closely, looking him up and down. The guy was just odd. He was like the class swot who had never grown up. In fact, the way he dressed for work, actually had something of the school uniform about it. 

‘What radio station do you listen to, Jimmy?’ Dale asked.

‘Either BBC Radio Four or Classical. What about you?’

‘You strike me as a classical music type of guy, Jim.’ Dale grinned. ‘Me? Rock Radio, all the way.’

Sandra, another colleague, was sitting facing them, picking at a bowl of salad. She gave Dale a disapproving look and shook her head. Dale rolled his eyes in response. Surely, if James took to sitting there reading poetry in the office canteen, then he deserved whatever was coming to him. He had to expect a reaction. Dale couldn’t help himself, now that he had an audience, whether Sandra disapproved or not, he decided to have a little fun. It would kill the time for the rest of his work break. 

‘Don’t you ever feel like letting your hair down?’ Dale enquired.

‘I am letting my hair down, or I was, until you interrupted me.’ James replied. 

James got to his feet, and went to get a fresh cup of tea. As soon as he left the table, Sandra leaned forward, talking in a whisper.

‘You don’t know about him do you?’ She said.

‘What about him?’

‘I’m saying nothing. I don’t want to get into trouble.’ She said.

‘In trouble with who? What are you talk about?’ Dale asked.

At that moment, James returned with his mug of tea. Sandra fell silent, focusing on the salad in front of her.

‘Come on, Jim, what’s your story?’ Dale pushed.

‘Leave me alone.’ James replied.

‘Don’t you ever want to rebel?’

James lowered the volume of poetry he was flicking through.

‘What makes you think I’m not rebelling?’

‘This,’ Dale pointed at the book, ‘is your idea of rebellion?’

‘Yes, it is.’ 

‘Wow, Jimmy, you’re really sticking it to ‘the man’ right now, aren’t you? Reading that book, sipping your tea. You’re just wild, mate.’ Dale laughed.

Sandra dropped her fork. As it clanged to the table. She jerked a thumb towards the door.

‘Have you got a minute, Dale?’ She asked.

Dale nodded, wondering what on earth was going on. He’d come to the canteen on his lunch-break and not only had he been stuck with the office nerd, but now Sandra was being even stranger than Jimmy the Geek. Sandra ushered him into the corridor. 

‘What are you doing bothering James like that?’ She asked.

‘Well, he brings it on himself. Sitting there, reading a book of poems on his break. What a massive geek. And he reckons that is his idea of rebelling.’ 

‘It is.’ She insisted.

‘How’s that rebellion?’ Dale asked. 

‘You don’t know about his family, do you?’ she said. 

‘What about them? Are they all as nerdy as him? Don’t tell me, both his parents are librarians?’ 

‘Hardly! Have you heard of the Cobras? The bike gang?’ Sandra said. 

‘Of course I have. Everybody knows about the Cobras.’

The Cobras were the notorious motorcycle gang that operated across the city. They had a violent, hard living reputation. The word was that they were responsible for all the crime and drug deals across most of the North West, and their get-togethers were drug and drink fuelled sessions that lasted for days. 

‘Well, James’ father is Big Jim Stanford, one of the high-ranking club members. James didn’t have it easy growing up. His family are just wild. They say his father has whiskey on his breakfast cereal. James has three brothers that are just like their father. They are all Cobra members. For James to be the way he is, and to stay true to himself, has taken a lot of guts. His dad and his brothers have come down on him hard over the years but he won’t change for them. He won’t join them. They’ve beaten him up, bullied and badgered him, trying to make him conform to their way of life. But he refuses to back down. They burnt all his books once. He simply set about building his collection back up from scratch. That, right there, is the biggest rebel you’ve ever seen.’

By Chris Platt

From: United Kingdom