Drive By Page 11

  ‘You’re miles off,’ Jake says, laughing. ‘Idiot.’

  Drac smiles. ‘That’s cos no one’s going past at the moment. Imagine if someone was hanging down from the ride – I’d reach them, definitely.’

  Jake shakes his head. ‘And what would you want to do that for anyway?’

  Drac shrugs and then carries on walking. ‘Dunno. I was just wondering, that’s all.’

  We walk on, everyone but me laughing at Drac. A few minutes later we’re all sitting on a wall outside the burger bar stuffing our faces in silence. The burger and chips, washed down with some cola, makes the weird nervous feeling in my stomach go away for a while. As soon as I start thinking about it though, the feeling returns. And I decide that I have to say something soon. The longer I go on not telling them, the harder it’s gonna be to tell them. And they’re gonna wonder why I didn’t tell them straight away. I don’t know how to start, so I just open my mouth before I can chicken out again.

  ‘I saw a funeral car yesterday,’ I say.

  The others don’t bat an eyelid. They just chew on their burgers.

  ‘On Exminster Avenue,’ I say.

  Drac and Badger still look blank. But I see the expression on Jake’s face turn from blankness to a furrowed brow as he realises what that could mean. He looks at me for a second and then looks away almost immediately, down at his drink. He takes the lid off and starts stirring it with his straw.

  ‘Why are you telling us this exactly?’ Drac says.

  ‘It was outside the Poisoned Dwarf’s house,’ I say.

  Badger and Drac both stare at me, confused.

  ‘The old lady we soaked in her car,’ Jake says without looking up from his drink. ‘The witch that slashed your football, Drac.’

  Drac and Badger stare in disbelief, first at Jake, then, when he doesn’t look up, at me.

  ‘Jesus,’ Badger says. ‘Are you serious? Please say you’re winding me up.’

  ‘No. It’s true.’

  ‘You don’t know it was for her though,’ Drac says. ‘Loads of old people live on those roads near you. It could have been for anyone.’

  ‘The front door of her house was open,’ I say. ‘There were loads of people inside, wearing black. There were flowers around the coffin that spelled out her name, Jean. It was her, Drac. No question.’

  No one says anything. Badger looks down at his shoes. Drac closes his eyes for a second and breathes in and out really slowly. Jake keeps staring at his drink.

  I can’t take back what I’ve said.

  ‘What did she die of?’ Badger says quietly. He doesn’t look up as he speaks.

  ‘Dunno, I only saw the coffin.’

  ‘Do you think it was because of what we did?’ Badger says even quieter. This time he looks up, making sure no one’s listening in.

  I shake my head. ‘I don’t know. Not for sure. But . . .’

  No one speaks. We all look at each other, all thinking the same thing. It must have been because of us. The silence extends to a minute or so. There’s a horrible, tense atmosphere. Then Jake looks up and takes a deep breath. We all look at him expectantly. He holds up his drink.

  ‘This is wrong, man. I just counted forty-two ice cubes in my drink. Can you believe that rubbish? That shouldn’t be allowed,’ he says, like nothing just happened, like we’ve been talking about nothing important. ‘How is there any room for drink when there are that many ice cubes in there?’

  We all just stare back at him, silent.

  ‘What? Don’t you think that’s a liberty? Forty-two ice cubes in one drink!’

  No one answers him.

  Jake looks at his drink again and then he stands up. ‘I’m gonna go and complain,’ he says. ‘It’s a total rip-off, man.’ With that, he walks back into the burger bar with his drink.

  The rest of us stare at each other. I have no idea what to say or think or do. I look in through the door of the burger bar, watch Jake go up to the counter and talk to the person behind it. I can’t make out what he’s saying, but I can see him waving his arms about and shoving the drink under some spotty cashier’s nose. I look back at Badger and Drac.

  ‘This is messed up, man,’ Drac says as I catch his eye. ‘I feel bad.’

  ‘I know,’ I say in a low voice. I sigh. ‘I wasn’t sure whether to tell you or not, but . . .’

  He nods his head.

  Jake walks out of the burger bar, shaking his head. He throws his cup at the bin, but it misses and showers ice cubes all over the ground. ‘What an idiot,’ he says. ‘The manager was about twelve years old! I told him I’d call the customer service line and he’d have all the stars on his stupid name badge taken away. He just gave me this really sarcastic smile, handed over the customer service number and said it was company policy and good luck with making a complaint. Loser.’

  The rest of us don’t say a word. How can that be the most important thing on Jake’s mind at a time like this? He comes and sits back on the wall with us, but doesn’t look at anyone. Instead he stares into the distance, furious.

  The weird atmosphere lasts the whole afternoon. Badger and Drac are as quiet as I was this morning. It’s difficult to get excited about rides and candyfloss and stuff when you have someone’s death on your conscience – at least, it is for everyone except Jake. I honestly have no idea what’s going through his mind. I start to wonder whether he’s understood what I told him earlier, because he spends the whole afternoon throwing himself into all the rides and then wastes his money on sweets and drinks and all sorts of rubbish, like he hasn’t a care in the world.

  By the time we get off the train in Raynes Park, I feel relieved. I need to get away from them all. I need to be on my own.

  I’ve been lying on my bed pretty much since I got home. I have no idea how long I’ve been here. I haven’t looked at the time. All I know is that when I first sat down here, the sun was still streaming in through the window and I’d put some music on, but the music stopped ages ago and now there’s barely any light left in the sky. I can’t even make out the skull and crossbones on the stupid helium balloon Jake bought for me earlier. The balloon’s only a dark shape now, drifting around just below the ceiling.

  I’ve been thinking about the funeral car. I mean, first of all, it makes me feel guilty. The old lady may not have died when we gave her the shock – she may have had heart disease already anyway – but what we did must have contributed to her death. It must have. Even though I’d like to think the two things were completely unrelated, I know they’re not. And that makes me feel like dirt.

  I also know I’m gonna have to keep this thing a secret for the rest of my life, like a coward, because I know that if I tell anyone, I could get into trouble. I’m way too scared of the consequences, of what will happen to me, of what people will think of me, to confess.

  And lurking somewhere in the back of my mind, there’s a question. A shameful, self-centred question. Am I a murderer? Every time I think it, I realise that I’m more concerned about what might happen to me than what happened to the Poisoned Dwarf. But I can’t help it. We did something stupid and someone died. The consequence of our actions was someone’s death, even if it happened after the event. But is that murder? Is it even a crime?

  I listen to the distant rumble of trains on the tracks and the buzz of traffic. I close my eyes and let my head fall back against the pillow. I sigh. And as I’m lying there, I realise how tightly my teeth are clenched. I feel so unbelievably tense. This is the complete opposite of what this summer was supposed to be. This was supposed to be the best laugh. It was meant to be relaxing – some free time and a chance to unwind after finishing my exams. How did it come to this? One moment of idiocy. One stupid mistake.

  The message tone on my mobile shatters the quiet in my room. I sit up and look over at the bedside table, where the screen of my phone is glowing. I pick my phone up and read the message. It’s from Badger.

  I’ve been thinking about what u said. Can we meet 2moro?
<
br />   I text him straight back. Course. How about after football?

  Then I go through to the bathroom, brush my teeth and get ready for bed. Maybe I’ll feel better if I can get some sleep.

  She’s there in front of me. Jean Hornby. Standing in her porch looking unsteady. Her face is grey and drawn and even more creased and wrinkled than I remember it. She scowls out, then, as she notices me, her eyebrows furrow. I can’t help but stare back at her. Her eyes follow me as I walk along the pavement towards her house. As I get close, she shuffles forward and opens the porch door.

  ‘Murderer!’ She spits the word out at me in her cracked voice. ‘Murderer!’

  I look away from her and quicken my pace. I have my head down. I can feel my heart thumping. I’m sweating. I don’t want to be here.

  ‘Murderer!’ she calls again, louder. ‘Murderer!’

  I glance behind me and I see her, following me along the pavement, hobbling along in a hospital gown.

  ‘MURDERER!’ comes her blood-curdling shriek. ‘MURDERER!’

  I look round again. She’s running after me, hobbling, tubes trailing out of her nose and hands and arms.

  I quicken my pace to a fast walk and then to a run. I look up ahead of me. At the end of the road are Mum and Dad with Mikey beside them. They’re shaking their heads at me, disappointed. Disgusted.

  ‘MURDERER!’ the Poisoned Dwarf shouts again.

  I don’t look around. I don’t look at my family. Instead I look at my feet and run as fast as I can. I have to escape. I have to get away. But after a couple of strides something hits my back and nearly knocks me over. I feel something heavy on my back. I glance up to see the Poisoned Dwarf staring straight at me, her ice-blue eyes boring into mine. She clings desperately on to my back, digging her nails into my flesh.

  ‘Murderer,’ she whispers in my ear. ‘I know it was you.’ She sounds angry, mad, broken.

  I run on. I look at my parents again. They shake their heads one last time and then turn away. Mikey smirks. The Poisoned Dwarf clings to my back and as I run she wriggles and pulls at my hair and kicks at my sides till I fall to the ground. We land in a heap on the floor, the Poisoned Dwarf lying on top of me, cold and stiff. Her eyes roll in her head. Her tongue lolls out of her mouth. She’s dead.

  I wake with a start. Heart pounding. Soaked to the skin with sweat. I look around the room. Over in the corner, I see a strange shape floating around up by the ceiling. As I watch, it floats closer towards me. My heart beats even faster. I reach straight for the bedside lamp and switch it on. The light hurts my eyes as it floods the room. I narrow my eyes for a second till they adjust to the light. Then I see that the shape in the corner of the room is the stupid balloon that Jake bought from the theme park. I stand up on my bed and throw a punch at it. The balloon bobs away across the room, dips down and then floats back up to the ceiling.

  I sit on my bed and look at the time. I could have guessed though. 2.43 a.m. The same time as always. This is getting stupid.

  I sigh and bury my head in my hands. It’s her. It’s the Poisoned Dwarf. It has to be. She’s the reason I’m waking up every night at the same time. None of this happened before. I used to sleep like a baby.

  I take my head out of my hands and look around the room. My empty room.

  ‘I know you’re there,’ I say. ‘I know you’re watching me. I know who you are.’

  There’s no response. The balloon bobs about in the corner. The skull stares at me.

  ‘What do you want with me?’

  Again there’s no answer. Not that I expected one.

  ‘I wish you’d leave me alone,’ I say. ‘I’ve had enough of this. Go away!’

  No answer. Nothing. I sigh. What the hell is happening to me? Am I losing the plot?

  I lie back in bed and stare at the ceiling. I keep the light on and my eyes wide open. I can feel the thumping of my heart in my chest.

  When is this going to stop? Is this ever going to stop?

  My alarm goes off. I open my eyes and notice my bedside lamp is still on. I sigh. What I’d really like to do right now is go back to sleep. I feel wrecked. So tired. But I can’t do that. I have football training. And I have to meet Badger.

  I stare at the ceiling directly above my bed and I start counting to sixty in my head. When I get to sixty, I’ll get up. Only, I don’t stop when I get to sixty. I keep going. On past a hundred. And I decide that I’ll get up when I get to two hundred instead.

  I’m past four hundred when I finally get out of bed. I sit up and rub my face, rub the sleep out of my eyes. And I notice the balloon again. It’s still hovering in the corner of my room, not floating right up against the ceiling any more, but hovering just underneath. Some of the helium must have escaped. I stretch and then get out of bed. I walk over to the balloon and take a swipe at it with my fist. It makes a boof sound as I hit it. The balloon smacks against the wall and then bobs across my room.

  Mum and Dad have gone to work, but Mikey’s already downstairs when I get down there, sitting on the sofa with a bowl of cereal resting on his lap, gawping at the TV. He holds his spoon halfway between his bowl and his face, his gob wide open, looking gormless as always. I go into the kitchen and get myself some cereal and then come back through to the lounge, sit next to Mikey on the sofa.

  ‘Why do you have to watch such rubbish?’ I say. ‘Can’t we watch something better?’

  Mikey doesn’t look at me. ‘I was in the lounge first,’ he says, ‘so I get to choose what we watch. That’s the rule.’

  I shake my head. ‘There’s also a rule about eating in the lounge,’ I say. ‘If I remember correctly, since you stained the carpet by spilling tomato ketchup, no one’s meant to eat in the lounge.’

  Mikey turns to me and rolls his eyes. He looks down at my breakfast. ‘Well, then, you shouldn’t be eating in here either, smart arse.’

  I smile. ‘I’m not eating. I’m just holding my bowl,’ I say.

  Mikey turns back to the TV and shakes his head. ‘You are a sad case, Johnny,’ he says.

  We both sit watching the box for a while, eating breakfast without saying a word. If I could be bothered I’d take the remote control from Mikey by force and switch over to something else. But I can’t be bothered so I let him watch the lame sitcom instead. As the adverts come on, Mikey puts his empty bowl on the carpet and turns to me.

  ‘Did you hear noises last night?’ he says.

  It takes a second for what he just said to sink in. What does he mean? I look at his face for a second, trying to work him out. I shake my head. ‘No.’

  Mikey smiles. ‘It was about three in the morning, I think. You must have heard it. There was some nutter talking.’

  ‘You what?’

  He smirks. ‘You mean you didn’t hear it?’

  I start to wonder what he knows, what he heard. I shake my head. ‘Hear what?’

  ‘It woke me up,’ he says. And then he makes a pretend sorrowful, scared face and does an impression. ‘What do you want with me?’ He creases up with laughter.

  I try to ignore him. I concentrate on spooning some cereal into my mouth.

  ‘It was a bloke talking,’ Mikey says. ‘He kept saying stuff like “I wish you’d leave me alone” and “I’ve had enough of this”.’

  I shake my head and swallow my mouthful of cereal. ‘Didn’t hear a thing. You must have imagined it.’

  ‘Nah,’ Mikey says. ‘I definitely heard it. I’d say it came from your room. I thought you and your boyfriend were having an argument.’

  For a split second I think about giving him a dead arm. ‘Grow up, Mikey.’

  He laughs. ‘Don’t act innocent. You know what I’m talking about. You must have heard it.’

  I sigh. I restrain myself from inflicting physical pain on Mikey. ‘I think you’ve gone mad,’ I say.

  Mikey shakes his head. ‘No. I think you’ll find it’s you that’s going mad,’ he says. ‘I know all about it. I heard Dad telling Mum that he caught y
ou sleepwalking the other night – with a cricket bat.’

  ‘Give it a rest,’ I say, as though it’s nothing. I look away from him.

  ‘It’s true though, isn’t it, Johnny? Were you off for a quick game of night cricket?’

  I don’t answer that. I can feel my cheeks flushing. I feel like smashing Mikey in the face, but I don’t want him to see that he’s got to me.

  ‘Are you going mad, Johnny?’ Mikey says in a sing-song voice.

  I ignore him. I turn to the TV and watch the adverts.

  ‘You are though, aren’t you? A little bit. Admit it.’

  I close my eyes for a second, try and let the comment wash over me. But then I hear Mikey laughing to himself and before I can even think about it, I’ve punched him hard on the arm.

  ‘Ah. Christ. What was that for?’ he says, rubbing the spot on his arm where I hit him.

  ‘For being an annoying little parasite,’ I say, standing up and taking my breakfast stuff through to the kitchen.

  ‘Yeah, well, at least I’m not going mad,’ Mikey calls back.

  I go upstairs to get ready. The pirate balloon has somehow floated out of my room and is hovering around the landing. I bat it out of the way and go into the bathroom to get washed. By the time I’ve showered and brushed my teeth and all the other stuff that you don’t need to know about, the balloon has floated over towards my room and is floating back inside. I stand and watch it for a second and then go into my room. The balloon is waiting for me, hovering in the centre of the room, the hollow eyes of the skull boring into me. I get my clothes out, get dressed and head for the door. As I get to the door, I turn and look at the balloon again. It’s floating towards the door, after me. I swear it’s following me.

  Maybe Mikey’s right. Maybe I am losing it. Something’s not right in my head.

  Nothing was mentioned this morning at football. Nothing of what I told Jake yesterday. Jake just did the usual – looking at all the mums and the au pairs and the childminders who dropped the kids off, leering at them and rating them out of ten. I said nothing, not because I didn’t want to say something – I was dying to – but cos it didn’t seem like the right time.