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  Mikey sniggers at me.

  ‘Freak,’ I say as I leave his room.

  Summer

  ‘Mum?’

  Mum doesn’t look up from the paper. ‘Hmm?’

  I can tell she’s not paying any attention. Maybe this is the right time to ask her – she might give me the answer I want without thinking about it properly.

  ‘Sky said that I could go and stay with her up in Edinburgh.’

  Mum nods without looking up.

  ‘So, can I?’

  No answer. I don’t think she heard what I said. Maybe I should just take her silence as a yes and start making arrangements with Sky. I could go and write it in the calendar. Mum probably wouldn’t notice until it was time for me to catch the train and by then there wouldn’t be much she could do about it. I wouldn’t be lying if I said I’d told her about it. She wouldn’t have forbidden me from doing it.

  But just as I’m about to go to the kitchen and add it to the calendar, Mum finally responds.

  ‘Did you say something, Summer?’

  I sigh. ‘Yes,’ I say. ‘Can I go and stay at Sky’s house?’

  Mum puts her paper down and turns to me. She doesn’t say anything right away, but I can tell from the look on her face that she doesn’t think it’s a good idea. I knew she’d react like this.

  ‘Please.’

  She shakes her head. ‘I’m not sure I like the sound of this.’

  I sigh and sit forward in my chair. I knew I should have taken her silence as a yes before. ‘Please, Mum.’

  She doesn’t say anything.

  ‘All I’m doing is sitting around the place getting bored,’ I say. ‘You’re at work every day . . .’

  ‘But Sky has a summer job – she’d be working every day as well,’ Mum says.

  ‘I know,’ I say. ‘But she has flatmates, doesn’t she? And when she’s not working, she might actually spend time with me.’

  Mum raises an eyebrow. ‘I don’t think so, Summer.’

  I sigh. ‘But I’m going out of my mind with boredom.’

  ‘Why don’t you see if any of your friends want to do anything, then?’

  I can’t believe this. I’ve told her a million times. She never listens to me. ‘Because they’re not here, Mum,’ I say. ‘Jodie’s moved and Lauren’s away for the whole holiday.’

  Mum sighs and picks her newspaper up. ‘Sorry, Summer. The answer’s still no.’

  I go to my room, slamming the door behind me.

  Johnny

  I don’t hate Mikey. Well, not completely. If I saw someone giving him hassle or beating him up, I’d come to his rescue. He is my brother after all. And I don’t think he hates me. But we don’t like each other much either. It’s just one of those things. It’s a brotherly thing, I s’pose. I can’t imagine getting on nicely with him. That would be weird.

  Basically, Mikey is like an annoying little parasite. Or an insect bite – always there, always in the back of your mind, trying to get a reaction, trying to get you to scratch and make it worse. He gets his kicks by winding me up every day. It’s what he lives for. And do you know what? It’d be weird if he didn’t act like that. If, all of a sudden, one day, Mikey just came out and started being nice, I’d think he’d lost it. I’d probably punch him because I’d suspect that his niceness was part of a bigger, elaborate plan to annoy me.

  Not that I’m innocent. I have to admit that I get pleasure from taking the mickey out of Mikey. I like being older and bigger than him because it means I can give him a slap if he steps out of line and there’s nothing he can do about it. Apart from grass on me – something that he’s an unashamed expert at.

  It’s harmless though. Mostly. I guess it’s a bit like lion cubs, the way they fight with each other, not so they actually hurt each other, but so they toughen up, hone their fighting and hunting skills. That’s what me and Mikey are like.

  When we were younger, we used to be a right pain when we were in the back of the car together. We’d fight and argue and wind each other up something chronic. And a lot of the time, because Mum and Dad’s backs were turned, we’d try and get each other in trouble.

  There was one time – we were coming back from visiting Grace, our great-aunt – when Mikey and me were going out of our heads with boredom. So I did what Mikey hates me doing – God knows why – I pointed at him. I just put my hand close to his leg and extended my index finger so that it almost, but not quite, touched his leg.

  As soon as he noticed, Mikey wailed, ‘Mum. Dad. Johnny’s annoying me!’

  Mum and Dad tried to ignore him, so I kept my finger there.

  ‘Mum! Dad!’ Mikey said. ‘He’s doing it on purpose. Make him stop.’

  Mum sighed in the passenger seat. ‘Johnny,’ she said without looking around. ‘Give it a rest, please.’

  ‘What?’ I pleaded. ‘I haven’t done anything! I’m not even touching him.’

  Mum turned round. She saw my finger millimetres from Mikey’s leg, pointing. ‘Johnny, please,’ she said. ‘You’re supposed to be the older one. Can’t you set a good example?’

  I rolled my eyes and tutted. I took my finger away.

  As soon as Mum had turned to look out of the car window again, Mikey stuck his tongue out at me.

  I bided my time, pretended to look out of the window at the rainswept road for a bit. But then, when I could see that Mikey wasn’t looking, I reached my hand across again, extended my index finger, pointed and waited.

  There was another squeal. ‘He’s doing it again, Mum! Make him stop.’

  Mum sighed again. She slowly turned in her seat and looked at me. She raised an eyebrow. ‘Johnny. Stop it, please,’ she said, trying to sound calm, but looking stressed.

  I raised my eyebrows in mock astonishment. ‘What? I’m not doing anything. I’m only pointing my finger. I’m not even touching Mikey.’

  ‘You know what you’re doing, Johnny,’ she said. ‘Stop winding your brother up, please.’

  I rolled my eyes and shook my head. ‘It’s a free country,’ I mumbled under my breath.

  Mum chose not to hear me as she turned back.

  Mikey and I exchanged rude gestures. And then we were quiet for a while, each looking out of our windows. We were nearly home – coming up to the Shannon Corner junction, where we always leave the A3.

  I looked around to check Mum wasn’t watching, then I extended my hand once more. I couldn’t help it. It’s like a reflex to boredom.

  This time, when he noticed my finger, instead of crying to Mum and Dad, he grabbed my finger and yanked it as hard as he could.

  ‘Ow! Jesus!’ I said, pulling my finger from his grasp and aiming a punch at his arm.

  ‘Stop it now!’ Mum shouted. She turned in her seat once more and scowled at me. ‘I’ve been very disappointed with you on this journey, Johnny.’

  ‘One more thing and I’ll stop this car and you can get out and walk home,’ Dad said.

  As soon as Mum’s back was turned, Mikey looked at me and held his sides, pretending to laugh at me. And I lost it. My right hand formed into a fist and I punched him twice on the leg.

  ‘OW!’ From the noise Mikey made, you would have thought he’d been shot. He even managed to summon some tears from somewhere.

  Dad pulled the car over straight away, in the car park at the front of a timber yard. He pulled the handbrake on and turned in his seat. ‘Out!’ he yelled at me.

  I didn’t move. ‘What?’

  ‘Out, Johnny. Now! You’re walking the rest of the way home.’

  Again I didn’t move.

  Dad sighed. And then he unclicked his seatbelt and went to open his door. At that point I decided it was probably better to get out myself rather than wait to be hauled out of the car.

  Thirty seconds later, I stood on the kerb about ten minutes’ walk from home, and I watched as Dad indicated and then pulled out into the traffic. As the car went, Mikey waved at me and gave me two fingers.

  That’s the way it’s
always been. Always.

  Summer

  I climb the stairs up to the top deck of the bus. I stop a couple of steps before the top and look around for a seat. My heart sinks. It’s full up. No seats anywhere. For a second I think I’m gonna have to go back downstairs and stand, but then I spot the last spare seat on the bus. Next to a boy. Well, I say boy, but I mean a guy, man, whatever. He’s my sort of age and he looks pretty cute. He looks familiar too. I’m sure I’ve seen him somewhere before. I climb the last couple of steps and walk towards the seat. The boy looks out of the window as I get there, earphones in. He doesn’t notice me sit down.

  ‘Do you mind if I sit here?’

  The boy looks round at me, a startled expression on his face. He takes one of his earphones out. ‘What?’

  ‘Do you mind if I sit here?’

  He shakes his head. He blushes slightly and shuffles up in his seat. ‘Help yourself,’ he says. Then he looks out of the window again.

  ‘Thanks,’ I say and I sit down next to him.

  Out of the corner of my eye I look at him to see if he’s sneaking a look back at me or anything like that. But he isn’t. He’s staring out of the window, still holding the earphone he took out. And I wonder whether that’s because he secretly wants to talk.

  ‘What you listening to?’ I say.

  He turns, looking startled again. ‘Me?’

  I nod. I smile. ‘Yeah. Of course you. What are you listening to?’

  He looks down for a second. He looks kind of sheepish, like he doesn’t want to tell me. ‘Oh, it’s just an old band. You probably haven’t heard of them . . .’ he says. He sounds apologetic about it.

  ‘Go on. I might know them.’

  He shakes his head. ‘I doubt it,’ he says. ‘They’re called The Cure.’

  My heartbeat quickens. ‘No way,’ I say. ‘Seriously?’

  He nods. ‘Have you heard of them, then?’

  I nod. ‘Yeah, totally. I love them. They were my dad’s favourite band. I’ve got all his records and CDs.’

  The boy raises his eyebrows and smiles. ‘Oh. Right.’

  ‘I’m always going on about them and no one ever takes any notice. I’ve never met anyone my own age who’s heard of them before.’

  He smiles again. ‘What can I say?’

  ‘You must have good taste,’ I say. ‘Which album is it?’

  He shrugs. ‘Just the greatest hits.’

  He looks at me for a second before staring back out of the window.

  I hear the beeping noise as the bus doors shut downstairs and then the bus moves off. I think about getting my earphones out of my bag and putting them in, getting my book and burying myself in it. But then I notice the boy turning.

  ‘Um, this is gonna sound a bit weird,’ the boy says, ‘but were you on this bus the other day?’

  I look at him. He’s taken both of his earphones out now. ‘Um, yeah,’ I say. ‘Why?’

  He smiles, embarrassed. ‘I recognise you.’

  ‘Oh? Really?’ I don’t know what to think. Should I be flattered or scared?

  ‘I was on the back seat with my friends. They were being childish and they threw some paper balls at you,’ he says. ‘It was you, wasn’t it?’

  I feel a bit bit embarrassed now. ‘Yeah,’ I say reluctantly. ‘That was me. They were idiots.’

  ‘I know,’ he says. ‘I cringed when they did that. I’m sorry. They’re a bit immature sometimes. They’re not always like that though.’

  I raise an eyebrow. ‘Were you throwing them as well?’

  He shakes his head. ‘No way. I was willing them to stop.’

  The bus pulls into a stop. I stare into space and think. I don’t know what to say to him now. I feel like a bit of an idiot.

  ‘I thought it was cool though,’ he says. ‘I mean, the way you threw the paper ball back at them and then gave them the finger. That was a good way to deal with it.’

  I don’t say anything, but I smile to myself. That was a compliment, I think. Maybe he likes me. I kind of want to find out more about him. There’s something intriguing about him. He’s sort of awkward and weird. But I like awkward and weird.

  ‘My name’s Summer,’ I say, turning to him.

  ‘Johnny,’ he says.

  And then we’re both quiet. The bus speeds along the road. I rack my brains for something to say. I could ask him what other bands he likes. I could ask him what his favourite film is. Or . . . What do people talk about in situations like this? I never do this kind of stuff.

  ‘So do you always wear black?’ he says, taking me by surprise.

  I turn to him. ‘Pardon? You sound like my mum!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That’s what my mum always says. She’s always on at me for wearing black. She thinks I always look like I’m going to a funeral.’

  ‘Oh,’ he says. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I . . .’ He pauses. He’s going red. ‘I was just asking cos you were wearing black last time I saw you as well. Anyway, I think it looks good. Black suits you. Keep wearing black.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I say. ‘I think.’

  He laughs to himself. ‘Sorry. I’m not very good at talking to people. They don’t let me out in public very often.’

  I smile. ‘They should. A little more practice and you’ll be fine.’

  He smiles at me. But then he looks out of the window and straight away reaches across and presses the bell. The bus starts to slow.

  ‘My stop,’ he says.

  I stand up to make room for him. As he passes me, he looks at me, right into my eyes. We hold the eye contact. And it feels great.

  ‘Nice talking to you,’ I say. ‘Don’t forget to tell your friends to stop acting like monkeys.’

  ‘Sure thing,’ he says. ‘See you around.’

  The bus stops and he clumps down the steps. As it moves off again, I look out of the window. Johnny’s looking up at me. He smiles. And in a couple more seconds he’s too far away to see. I get my book and my earphones out of my bag. I put my earphones in and switch the music on. I take my bookmark out and start reading. But I don’t take a single word in.

  Johnny

  I grab a handful of newspapers, stuff them with flyers, then start to load up my trolley. When I’m done with the first box, I take the scissors out of my back pocket and open the second box to cut the plastic ties. But I stop because I notice something. The front of the newspaper. There’s a picture of the parade of shops at the end of Jake’s road and next to that the headline, LOCAL WOMAN SUFFERS HEART ATTACK IN UNPROVOKED WATER PISTOL ATTACK BY YOBS.

  The world folds in on me. The scissors fall from my hand, hit the pile of newspapers and then clatter down on to the front step. I just can’t help but stare at the headline. It can’t be. Not us. Jesus. Please. No.

  I close my eyes, try to keep calm and think rationally. It can’t be anything to do with us. It must be a coincidence. All we did was shoot a bit of water through a car window. We couldn’t have done any damage. We couldn’t have given the Poisoned Dwarf a heart attack. Could we? We’d have heard about it by now if we had, right?

  I open my eyes, sit on the step and pick the scissors up from the ground. I snip the hard plastic ties, take the top newspaper from the pile and start reading.

  An elderly Raynes Park resident suffered a heart attack last week after being shot at by local yobs with water pistols. Jean Hornby, 72, of Exminster Avenue, was waiting in her car for her husband to come out of a newsagent when yobs on bikes shot at her through her open car window. Mrs Hornby, who is on medication for heart disease, suffered a heart attack at the scene. When her husband, Harry Hornby, came out of the shop on East Barnards Lane, he discovered Mrs Hornby and immediately beckoned over a passing Police Community Support Officer, who administered first aid and called an ambulance.

  Mrs Hornby was taken to St Matthew’s Hospital, where medics worked to stabilise her condition. She remains in hospital and is in a serious but stable condition.

&nb
sp; Police are appealing for witnesses who may have seen the incident to come forward with information.

  I look up from the newspaper with clammy hands, a dry mouth and my heart thumping. I put my head in my hands. This is bad. This is worse than bad. I don’t know what to do about this.

  No.

  No.

  NO.

  Jesus Christ, no.

  I take my phone out of my pocket and write a message to Jake and Badger and Drac. Come over to mine now. We r in trouble. I send it and then go inside the house.

  Mikey comes out of the kitchen just as I get in the door.

  ‘All right, loser?’ he says.

  I don’t have time for his stupid games right now though. I head straight up the stairs without a word.

  Ten minutes later, Drac, Jake and Badger are all at mine, up in my room, reading the front page of the newspaper. It doesn’t take long for it to dawn on them, to realise who’s to blame. The colour drains from their faces and their expressions turn to shock and guilt.

  The room is silent for ages.

  ‘Oh, Jesus,’ Jake says eventually.

  ‘No way!’ Drac says. ‘That was us. Far out.’

  Badger doesn’t say anything, but the look on his face says it all. His eyes have gone bulgy as he stares at the front page. For a second he looks like he’s gonna cry. He looks away from the newspaper, gets up and goes over to my bedroom window and stares out of it without a word.

  ‘What do you think we should do?’ I say.

  No one answers. No one makes eye contact. Jake reads the newspaper again.

  ‘Do you think we should tell the police it was us?’ I say.

  Badger sighs. He moves away from the window and comes and sits on the floor.

  Jake puts the paper down. ‘No way,’ he says. ‘We do that and we’re in trouble.’

  ‘But won’t it count for something that we told the truth?’ I say.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Jake says. ‘And I don’t want to find out.’

  ‘We didn’t mean to do it,’ I say. ‘It was an accident.’

  Drac snorts. ‘It wasn’t an accident though, was it?’ he says. ‘We shot at her with our water pistols. We didn’t do that by accident cos we aimed at her on purpose.’