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The Invisible Truth

Novel By: ryanfromtheuk
Gay and lesbian


Alfie is just an average teenager just trying to survive in a college world. After a brief introduction to a mysterious boy, Alfie can't stop thinking about him until a second introduction seals his future. View table of contents...



Submitted:Mar 8, 2014    Reads: 23    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   


The day had been overcast with hate and despair from the very moment I woke up. Not only was it a dismal day (thank you very much weather woman) but it was just my worst academic day of the week. Triple biology in the morning, then double media, then double photography, closely followed by two hours of doing nothing.

After waking up to the frosty morning mother nature had behold us, having a shower to the sounds of Britney Spears and WHAM, I got dressed in my favourite black skinny jeans and band t-shirt. It was just one of those days where I just not be bothered about how I looked. I combed back my unruly brown hair into a quiff, and gave it a quick spray of hairspray. Now looking fully like Zayn Malik, I walked downstairs to where my mother was awaiting my arrival for the morning conversation. It's the same conversation every morning: "How are you?" ,"How did you sleep?" ,"Did you dream about anything?" etcetera, etcetera. However, there was nothing like that this morning, my mother just looked blankly into the space that I was occupying, no emotion on her face. After a few seconds, a huge show of pearls appeared and she started laughing.

"You're actually going to college like that? You look like bloody Justin Bieber!" She chuckled, each chin in coordination with the others.

"Don't you dare repeat that name in my presence. Every time you say that, a teenage girl looses a brain cell." I retaliated. "Do you want to be responsible for most of the teenage population going brain dead?'

"They already are. I mean, look at you." She winked.

"Thanks for the support in my fashion endeavors, mother." I said back.

"Anytime, baby." She smiled.

After having a lovely balanced breakfast of nutella on toast and a banana, I walked to the bus stop five minutes away from my house. The normal path is up the street, down a back alley, down another street and I'm there. However, this morning, I took another route. I don't know why I did, I just did. I got to the bus stop as I was walking down the street, narrowly missing the antique double-decker. As most of the buses the college uses don't have heating, or have heating which is broken, I feel lucky when there is a little heater blowing dust particles into my face. However, that wasn't one of those days. Instead, I have an obnoxious and loud chav shouting at his friends beside me. I just think to myself,' Please let this day be over.'

To drown out the noise of the quite rancid chav sitting next to me, I put my earphones in and listen to a bit of Madonna, wishing that 'Like a Virgin' would counteract the words flowing out the chav's mouth. The sound is on too loud and the whole bus hears the high pitch notes of Madonna cascading out of my earphones. No one says anything until the chav and his friends turn on me and just say some horrendous words, which I don't want to repeat. I brush it off and move away from them, further to the front of the bus where, luckily, there is a spare double seat with enough legroom to accommodate my insect like legs.

Finally, we get to college. That's a triumph in its own as the bus driver didn't know how to drive considering he went through numerous red lights, nearly went the wrong way down a one way system and nearly crushed an old woman in a smart car. That being said, I think that bus ride had been the most adventurous my life has ever been.


After a triple session of Biology had drained my soul, and a double session of media had reimbursed it, it was lunchtime. The smell of grease and fat had drawn crowds of hungry teenagers to their doom. That sounded somewhat poetic.

After sitting down at a table, my friends joined me, looking as stressed as I was. Archie, the brainbox of the group, looked like he was about to murder several people.

"I can't believe her, I mean seriously, why would she do that?!" He announced to the world.

"What, calm down, what happened?" I asked, carefully stepping around the subject.

"Fucking Mrs Roberts. After smiling at everybody else, giving them their mock exam grades back, she came over to me, not smiling. Then she gave me my paper back then had the audacity of saying, 'You looked at the mark scheme' to me." He replied back.

"Well, did you?" I stupidly said

"Of course I fucking didn't!" He raged at me.

We were then greeted by our other friend, Pippa. She had a bright blue dress, a t-shirt saying 'Come to the dark side, we have cookies' on it and dark blue boots. I love Pippa to bits, she's been one of my best friends since she came to our high school in year 9 after coming over from Ghana.

"Jesus Christ, Archie. I could hear you on the other side of the college." She remarked with a strong African accent.

"DON'T YOU START!" He fumed.

"Oh, I'm sorry, tetchy. Anyway, how was your day, Alfie?" She asked me.

"Okay, I guess. Or than wanting to poison myself numerous times with my pen's ink throughout Biology, other than that, it's been hunky dory. "

"Talking about hunky…"

Her words coinciding with walking by of our other friend, Samuel. If I'm totally honest, I really don't know why he began sitting with us. I mean, he's athletic, smart, popular and all around gorgeous.

"Hey sluts."

"What's up hoe?" I reply.

"If I was a hoe, you'd be my best customer." He smiled at me.


After the mess of which people call lunch had ended, it was Photography. Photography is one of those subjects where you don't realise how hard it is until you actually attempt it. Our teacher, Mr Loehr, otherwise called a French, pompous bastard, is the only photography teacher in the college. He some how came from French politics to teaching art and design in an English college in the middle of nowhere. How that works, I do not know how.

"Now class, import your photographs onto your photoboard." He announced in a thick French accent. "And after that, find some tutorials and edit them to your style of wor-"

A large knock at the door interrupted him mid sentence. Everyone's head turned to face the double glass doors that separated the classroom from the hallway. Standing at the door was a boy, quite tall and lanky, black hair and wearing the same style of clothes I was wearing. Mr Loehr opened the door in the cockiest way possible, shaking his head at the sight in front of him.

"What now Theo?" Mr Loehr asked him. "Can't you see I'm teaching."

"I know you are but…"

Mr Loehr stepped outside the classroom and the glass door closed, automatically blocking all the sound from the conversation outside. Everyone could see the anger, then confusion, and then concern on Loehr's face. All of his emotions becoming more and more entangled within each other.

After about five minutes of talking, Mr Loehr came back into the room, expressing the symptoms of confusion, anger but also some type of heartbreak.

"Everyone." A single tear dropped from his eye. "Just get on with your editing."

He exited the room with a phone in his left hand. As soon as he got outside, he dialed a number and started shouting in fluent French. One of the assistants from the media classes came outside to check what was happening. The mute motions of a conversation began forming. The exasperation on his face was clear; whatever that person had said to him was the cause of all of this.

Several minutes later after a lot of shouting and swearing, Mr Loehr was finally calmed down and coaxed back into the classroom, where fifteen sets of curious eyes were looking at him. His large bulging mass of eye tissue stared back at all of us.

"Now then…" There was a stillness in his voice. "You probably wondered what that was all about. You see that boy was my son, Theo." My ears pricked up at the sound of the name. The name resonated in my mind. "And, we just had a bit of a disagreement", emphasis on bit. "Anyway." He clapped his large hands together. "Get on with your work."


I walked along the concrete path with separated the tarmacked roads from the sand dusted across the beach. Beside me was Pippa, holding her bag in one hand and a pile of books in the other.

"Alfie, why are you looking so down?" Pippa questioned.

"Eh? What?" I came out of my daydream world.

"Why are you looking so down I said? You look like someone has thrown your phone into the sea then slapped you 'round the face with a large fish."

"Thank you for the lovely exaggeration of my mood, Pippa. Nah, I'm just wondering about something. Do you know a Theo that goes to our college?" I asked her.

"Theo? Erm? What does he look like?"

"Tall, lanky, black hair, wears the same type of clothes I do?" I replied.

"What type of clothes? The 'I've just rolled out of bed and I can't be bothered with today so don't even ask because I won't tell you and if you even insinuate something I will rip you limb from limb' type of clothes?"

"Harsh, like." I said.

"Anyway, to answer your question. I do know a Theo who matches that description. Theo Twain, I think his name is. He's in my history class, you see." She explained.

We arrived at Pippa's house; her mum waved at me from the top floor window. I returned the gesture.

I carried up the rough, cobbled street until I reached Aldcoast Town high street. The smell of freshly baked goods filled the air, accompanied by the sound of laughing children following their parents. Aldcoast is like a little, untouched gem of the English coast. No one really knows we're there, so the beaches and the surrounding environments are basically free of tourists destroying the habitat.

I ran up to the door of my favourite bakery. The main baker, Mrs McKay, stood behind the counter, with a smile wider and much larger than the Cheshire cat's.

"So, deary, what would you like today?" Mrs McKay asked, with a voice as fragile as a cabinet of fine china, but as fiery as the pits of hell.

"Just a lemon drizzle cake, please. Oh, and a loaf of the whole meal as well." I replied.

"Of course, sweetie. That will be £2.60, please. By the way, how's your mum and everyone?" She questioned.

"Okay, I guess. Mum's just a little annoyed at her boss not paying her her correct wage. But, other than that, okay."

"Well, I hope you have a good weekend and I'll see you the next time you come in."

"See you!"


I got through the front door of my house at 5PM. My mum was already in the kitchen preparing tea and my dad had already woken up to go to work.

"Reyt, spud." He bellowed in his obvious Yorkshire accent.

"You okay?" I inquired.

"Yeah, same same. Just all these night shifts are killing me." He stressed.

We sat down on the sofa in co-ordination, turning the TV on at the same time. The news was talking about the floods around the south of the country.

"Now on newsnight at 5PM, floods destroy the south of the country. 20 killed in freak storm. What is the government going to do about this? All now on newsnight at 5PM."

"Those poor people!" My mother exclaimed from the kitchen. "I wonder what would happen if that happened here. It would be anarchy!"

"I'm just glad it doesn't happen here." My father replied.

"Shout me when tea's ready." I said.

I ran up the stairs to my bedroom and threw off my coat and bag and turned on the computer. There was a gray flash and the machine came to life. I logged in and there was a notification on my desktop. 'Pippa messaged you.'

'Get on video, now, I have a little surprise for you.' The message flashed. I pondered the thought for a second and wondered what it could be. I clicked on the video messaging client and after a second, a sound indicated to me that I had signed in. As soon as I had signed in, a call incoming flared across the screen. I clicked answer, in one box was Pippa, in another was… who was it? Then it hit me, it was Theo.


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