Probably from the twenty-four-hour delight he experiences at being tougher than God.
For a moment I’m not even sure that he is my age – surely no fourteen-year-old can look so grizzled. And he seems to have more than his fair share of teeth, all of them little, but glittering like knives. The smell of cigarette smoke is thick on his breath as he fixes me with his dead eyes.
“You’re that kid.”
IM: Deny! Deny! Deny! Even in the face of photographic evidence! You weren’t there! It was your twin! Anything but the truth!
“Um … yeah.”
IM: Ashes to ashes, dust to dust…
I feel Jason’s meaty hand tighten briefly on my shoulder, suddenly aware that he’s wearing a ring as it presses through my sweater. He blinks like cows do when there are flies bothering them.
“Who was that girl, then?”
IM: Sister. Go for sister.
“Um … just a friend…”
The smell of cigarette smoke gets more intense as Jason’s anvil head gets closer to mine.
“Well, you tell her that I want to meet her, got me?”
I nod feverishly and I think the word “sure” drops out of my mouth like a rabbit turd.
“Good.” There’s another squeeze on my shoulder and then he swings away like a shark that’s just detected one part blood in a million parts water. Slowly my friends unfold, like crumpled origami animals.
“What girl?” Matt’s first out of the starting gate.
IM: Oh, great. Here we go again.
“That girl from the Hovel. I bumped into her again. Yesterday.”
“Dude!” Beggsy can do wonders with that word.This time it conveys *Is impressed*.
“And what about Humphries?” Of all of us, Ravi is the most shaken – and he doesn’t care who knows it. That powerless, fearful feeling is written all over his face.
IM: And he’s not even anything to do with it!
“He was there. With Paul Green and Lewis Mills.”
“Dude!” This one conveys *Is worried*.
“And he likes her.”
“Yes, Matt. He does.” I’m getting a little irritated by my friends pointing out the potentially fatal aspects of my situation.
IM: Coming through! Dead man walking! Coming through!
My IM’s cheery sentiment is echoed in the faces of my friends and the cloud of silence that seems to have descended over our table.
“That girl’s going to get you into trouble, dude.”
I try and gain control of my breathing.
IM: Search your feelings, Archie; you know it to be true…
And no matter how much I don’t want it to be true, it is; Jason Humphries, the Human Avalanche TM , likes the girl that I like. Somehow, I don’t think pistols at dawn are quite his style.
It takes the journey from lunch to my next lesson for my pulse to return to something like normal. Having said I like school, my heart sinks as Mr Cook reveals the latest dose of geography homework. Tonight – and probably for the next two nights – I’ll be researching precipitation in the North-East of England. In my life, when it rains, it pours…
The bell sees us spilling like a torrent of ants into the corridor and my inherent Grunt Detector TM scans the terrain for any tracks: knuckle trails, recent kills or even fresh droppings (usually cigarette butts or crumpled worksheets). Clear so far, but Grunts, like lions, tend to watch from afar, hidden in the long grass. Or the toilets, whichever is more convenient.
Up ahead, Ravi comes out of Maths, turns to see me and waits up. He calls over to Beggsy and Matt, who are heading for the drinking fountain. But all I can see is the person who follows Ravi out of his class.
“Hello, you.”
My arm is linked and, once more, I’m gazing into Sarah’s ice-blue eyes.
IM: She’s in your year! Re-sult!
Addressing a fourteen-year-old boy as “You” is a sure-fire way to grab his attention. However, precede it with an “Oi!” and drop it from the mouth of a fourteen-year-old sociopath and the promises aren’t
For a moment I’m not even sure that he is my age – surely no fourteen-year-old can look so grizzled. And he seems to have more than his fair share of teeth, all of them little, but glittering like knives. The smell of cigarette smoke is thick on his breath as he fixes me with his dead eyes.
“You’re that kid.”
IM: Deny! Deny! Deny! Even in the face of photographic evidence! You weren’t there! It was your twin! Anything but the truth!
“Um … yeah.”
IM: Ashes to ashes, dust to dust…
I feel Jason’s meaty hand tighten briefly on my shoulder, suddenly aware that he’s wearing a ring as it presses through my sweater. He blinks like cows do when there are flies bothering them.
“Who was that girl, then?”
IM: Sister. Go for sister.
“Um … just a friend…”
The smell of cigarette smoke gets more intense as Jason’s anvil head gets closer to mine.
“Well, you tell her that I want to meet her, got me?”
I nod feverishly and I think the word “sure” drops out of my mouth like a rabbit turd.
“Good.” There’s another squeeze on my shoulder and then he swings away like a shark that’s just detected one part blood in a million parts water. Slowly my friends unfold, like crumpled origami animals.
“What girl?” Matt’s first out of the starting gate.
IM: Oh, great. Here we go again.
“That girl from the Hovel. I bumped into her again. Yesterday.”
“Dude!” Beggsy can do wonders with that word.This time it conveys *Is impressed*.
“And what about Humphries?” Of all of us, Ravi is the most shaken – and he doesn’t care who knows it. That powerless, fearful feeling is written all over his face.
IM: And he’s not even anything to do with it!
“He was there. With Paul Green and Lewis Mills.”
“Dude!” This one conveys *Is worried*.
“And he likes her.”
“Yes, Matt. He does.” I’m getting a little irritated by my friends pointing out the potentially fatal aspects of my situation.
IM: Coming through! Dead man walking! Coming through!
My IM’s cheery sentiment is echoed in the faces of my friends and the cloud of silence that seems to have descended over our table.
“That girl’s going to get you into trouble, dude.”
I try and gain control of my breathing.
IM: Search your feelings, Archie; you know it to be true…
And no matter how much I don’t want it to be true, it is; Jason Humphries, the Human Avalanche TM , likes the girl that I like. Somehow, I don’t think pistols at dawn are quite his style.
It takes the journey from lunch to my next lesson for my pulse to return to something like normal. Having said I like school, my heart sinks as Mr Cook reveals the latest dose of geography homework. Tonight – and probably for the next two nights – I’ll be researching precipitation in the North-East of England. In my life, when it rains, it pours…
The bell sees us spilling like a torrent of ants into the corridor and my inherent Grunt Detector TM scans the terrain for any tracks: knuckle trails, recent kills or even fresh droppings (usually cigarette butts or crumpled worksheets). Clear so far, but Grunts, like lions, tend to watch from afar, hidden in the long grass. Or the toilets, whichever is more convenient.
Up ahead, Ravi comes out of Maths, turns to see me and waits up. He calls over to Beggsy and Matt, who are heading for the drinking fountain. But all I can see is the person who follows Ravi out of his class.
“Hello, you.”
My arm is linked and, once more, I’m gazing into Sarah’s ice-blue eyes.
IM: She’s in your year! Re-sult!
Addressing a fourteen-year-old boy as “You” is a sure-fire way to grab his attention. However, precede it with an “Oi!” and drop it from the mouth of a fourteen-year-old sociopath and the promises aren’t
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