Underdog by Euan Leckie

next to the sign, her back to him.
    Tom straightened, temporarily forgetting about the load in his hands and the pain in his feet. The long blond hair and the shape of the girl’s body were familiar, becoming more so as he drew closer. He suddenly felt embarrassed about the way he was dressed. His heart began to race, and for a moment he considered turning back; then, hearing his footsteps, the girl turned around.
    Tom’s face flushed and his legs felt unsteady as he came to a standstill beside her. He didn’t know where to look or what to say. It felt as if his muscles had frozen. The more conscious he became of how awkward he felt, the worse the sensation seemed to get. He took a deep breath. Compared to the bustle of the high street, everything suddenly seemed very quiet. There was no-one else around. Tom racked his brains for something to say. But it was Alison who spoke first.
    ‘Hi Tommy.’ She smiled.
    Tom’s heart was pumping so hard, it was beginning to hurt. No-one called him ‘Tommy’ anymore. He felt breathless as he put the bags down and rested them against the bus stop sign.
    ‘You look smart,’ she added.
    ‘I’m on a delivery,’ he stammered, nervously facing her. ‘I’m working at Fenton’s on the high street.’
    ‘Where are you going?’
    ‘The Two Feathers.’
    ‘I’m going past there. We can get the bus together.’ She glanced up the road. ‘It’ll be here in a minute.’
    Tom forced a smile. In spite of himself he was unable to stop gazing at her. Her slender arms were nicely tanned, in sharp contrast to the whiteness of her T-shirt. He looked down, not wanting her to think he was checking out her breasts, only to be confronted with her shapely legs, bare beneath a short, tight denim skirt.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, suddenly.
    ‘What for?’
    ‘For Chris. If I’d known, I’d have …’ She stopped herself. ‘I hate him sometimes. The way he can be.’
    She looked at Tom, unsure whether his hair was meant to look so dishevelled. The shirt he was wearing was too big for him, and the butcher’s apron too long; it covered his shins. His offbeat appearance reminded her of how he had looked at school when she had first noticed him: out of place and solitary; not full of himself like the other boys. There was something interesting about him. She studied his face for a moment, lingering on his shy, brown eyes.
    ‘I’m sorry about your mum.’ She smiled sympathetically before looking away, suddenly unsure what else to say.
    ‘It’s okay,’ said Tom, sensing her unease, not worrying about what she might have heard. They watched in silence as a car drove past.
    Tom realised he liked her even more than he’d imagined.  There was a gentleness in her voice and in the way she held herself, kindness in her eyes. She was so different to how the other kids talked about her at school. She wasn’t stuck-up or fake. And it wasn’t just that she was so pretty or that he fancied her so much; she was caring and thoughtful, too. That’s what really mattered. As he started to relax, it occurred to him that this might be the one time during the holidays they would meet. He didn’t want to leave it until next term.
    Their eyes met.
    ‘What you looking at?’ asked Alison coyly, in a way that suggested she knew what he was thinking.
    ‘You.’
    Tom’s spontaneous response made him clench his toes in embarrassment. He had never asked a girl out and didn’t have the first idea of how he should go about it. But he could feel words coming, urged on as Alison smiled back at him.
    ‘Alison …’ He did his best to sound sure of himself. ‘Alison, I … I was thinking …’
    ‘Oi! Soppy Bollocks!’
    The shout made them both jump.
    ‘Oh no,’ Alison murmured.
    Tom turned to see Chris, Fraser and another lad he didn’t know coming towards them. Chris was beaming.
    ‘That’s right, shithead! I fucking told you I’d catch up with you.’
    As Chris closed in, he picked up his stride,