(Warning- contains the same unpleasant subject matter as “Isaac versus the Swimming Pool.”)

Half an Hour Earlier

They’d been driving around aimlessly for a while when they spotted Chris and Tommy. Barry’s headlights shone on a couple of figures waiting at a pelican crossing, and he crowed, “Look who it is!”

Isaac looked, and his heart sank. It was Tommy MacLeod and Chris Hutchins. He remembered Tommy saying something about a Geography project they both had to work on, but Isaac didn’t take Geography so he hadn’t paid much attention. He could see what must have happened- Tommy must have asked Chris to stay over so they could work on it, and now they’d finished and gone out to buy a late-night snack. At exactly the wrong time.

“They’re friends of yours, aren’t they?” said Barry jovially, “Let’s go and say hello!” He beeped the horn twice, then parked up on the curb a yard or two from where they were standing. “Alright?” said Barry, bursting out of the car door, “Chris and Tommy, right? I just ran into your friend Isaac!” Barry tapped the back door window. “Isaac, come on out and say hello!”

Isaac opened the door and stepped out. For a moment, he saw himself screaming at them to run and get help, and then running away himself, in the opposite direction. But Barry was bigger and faster than them, and who knew what he might do if they made him angry?

“Come for a ride!” said Barry, “Isaac’s having fun, aren’t you, Isaac?”

In the seconds before Barry turned back to him, Isaac did his best to hold up his hands and shake his head, signalling to Chris and Tommy that they should say no. But either they didn’t understand, or they just didn’t want to leave him on his own. Isaac didn’t know which possibility made him feel worse.

Twenty Minutes Earlier

It was the first time Isaac’s parents had gone out for the night since that bench had been put up two months ago, and Isaac wasn’t going to waste the opportunity.

It was in a road just off the high street, busy during the day, but completely deserted by half-past ten at night. Isaac could hear the sound of revellers spilling out of pubs a few streets away, but other than that, it was quiet. Just him and the bench.

He hadn’t bought a torch, but he could read the words on the plaque if he squinted. Alistair Kenneth Forrest, 3^rd of November 1958- 8^th of October 2001. Beloved teacher and friend.

Yeah, beloved. Except for the times when he tried to get seven-year-olds to swim naked with him. Not quite as endearing, that.

Isaac had brought along a board marker, but now that he was here, he didn’t know what to write. If he put pervert or paedo, then people would think it was some nasty kid who wanted to cause trouble and just wrote the first insult that came to mind, People would just cluck their tongues and ask what the world was coming to these days, and was nothing sacred? It wouldn’t make them think about the things Mr Forrest had done.

He’d better decide quickly, though, because the noise wasn’t just coming from the pubs anymore. In the multi-storey car park further up the road, two people were shouting at each other. He couldn’t make out the words, but one of them- the female one- sounded a bit familiar. It almost sounded like Shona Halfpenny, one of the girls who’d been in Year Eleven last year. And under any other circumstances, he’d probably have hoped it was- he’d kind of fancied her last year- but he needed to be alone for this. Even if Shona swore not to tell a soul, he’d still have to explain it to her, and that almost seemed worse than getting arrested.

With limited time, Isaac decided- he was going to write child molester. Not all that different from paedo or pervert, but at least people would know it had been written by someone who could spell.

He’d only just finished the second word when he felt Barry’s hand on his shoulder.

The End