barged forward. ‘What the hell are you doing sitting in the dark on your own? You scared me half to death. I nearly ran in here and slapped you.’
I drew up short before I could smack him upside the head. Maybe he was missing Mum. I think it affected him more than it did me. I missed her too, but I had to remain strong for him. And Dad.
They say your heart sinks when you’re sad, but I didn’t think that was true. When Dad told us those fateful words that Mum was gone, I don’t think either of us realised that we were never going to see her again. We’d expected her to walk back through the door at any moment. We probably still did. But back then, it’d felt as if the world were closing in and I couldn’t breathe, as if someone had locked me in a wooden box and buried me alive, and I kept punching and punching, trying to get out, but no matter what I did, it didn’t work.
Sometimes I caught myself referring to Mum in the past tense, and it scared me. Maybe we had a link, a biological connection that a son naturally has with his mother, and I knew she was never coming back—and it wasn’t because she didn’t want to. But I realised that was a stupid idea. Why would Dad lie to us?
I kept telling Hero that it wasn’t his fault, but I could see every day in his eyes that he believed Mum had left because of him. That hurt more than anything; I hated to see him in pain. I wished I could just reach into his cells and suck out the distress like a Hoover.
I lay a hand on his shoulder. ‘Come on, bruv, I understand. I miss Mum too.’
He glanced up from his meal and then back, staring at the arrangement of broccoli and carrots on his plate, and shook his head slowly.
So it wasn’t about Mum. ‘Is this about Felicity?’
He looked up and pursed his lips.
‘Already? Man, girls are harsh.’
‘She’s fine,’ he mumbled. ‘It’s just not gonna work out, that’s all.’
I slid my arm the rest of the way around his shoulder and gave him an affectionate hug. ‘Now, more importantly—where’s my dinner?’
He turned to face me, horrified at my inhumanity, but as soon as he realised I was joking, he started to grin.
‘See? That’s all I was looking for, that smile of yours. But seriously, mate, where’s my dinner?’
He started to giggle. They say that it warms your heart when you make another human being laugh. I admit, it made me feel good.
‘It’s in the oven,’ he said when he stopped chortling. ‘I guess I’d better do my homework.’
‘Okay, thanks.’ I plucked the dish out of the oven using a towel. ‘Bruv, it’ll be okay. These things always work out in the end.’
He nodded and smiled forlornly before going upstairs. I didn’t see him again that night. I guess he wanted to get his homework done and think things out for himself.
Whatever those things were.
The next morning at breakfast, Hero was equally sombre. He couldn’t have slept much, because he was already in the kitchen when I arrived.
‘Morning, James,’ Dad said with his usual exuberance. ‘Hero’s really getting into this cooking malarkey. He even cooked bacon and eggs again this morning and made my coffee. I could definitely get used to this.’
Hero gave him an empty smile. I noticed that he wasn’t eating himself, nor was there any sign that he had.
‘Not hungry?’
‘No.’
‘Are you okay, bruv? You normally eat like a horse.’
‘Just not feeling great.’
‘Shall we go?’ I started towards the door.
He hung back. ‘I’m feeling really rough. Maybe I’m not well enough to go to school today.’
‘Hmm. Well, let’s head out, see how you go. If you still feel bad, you can always come back, right?’
‘Okay.’
We walked to school in silence. Hero seemed intent on studying the pavement. As we arrived at the school gates, I said, ‘Okay, bruv. See you later.’
‘Can we have lunch together today?’
‘What?’ He’d never wanted to have lunch with me before.
‘Just be good to spend time with you.’
Liar.
‘Maybe you are ill?’ I reached for his forehead as if to check for a fever.
‘It’s okay,’ he mumbled, pulling away.
Damn it all. Something was definitely wrong. I knew I should work out a way to have lunch with him, if only to find out what was going on—but I couldn’t. I was meeting with Vicki. Shit.
‘Bruv, I can’t today, I’ve got stuff on. Anyway, you’ve got your friends to have lunch with, right?’
‘I guess.’
Hmm. ‘Well, have a good day. I’ll see you at home later, okay?’
‘Sure.’
The day was the usual mishmash of classes and gym. Oh, and Vicki.
Yes indeed, Vicki. God, she wore a short skirt. Was that even legal? Fair enough, though—she had great legs. She deserved to show them off.
When I first met her, she’d been standing at the school gates and chatting with one of her friends, who promptly disappeared as I approached. She must’ve been waiting for me but was trying to be subtle about it. About as subtle as a brick through a window.
‘Hey, James,’ she purred.
‘Hey, how you doin’?’ That Joey from Friends thing really shouldn’t work, but it did. Girls were so shallow; it was almost too easy sometimes.
She giggled in that way only teenage girls can, the way that made you feel happy yet on edge. You were never sure if they were mocking you or interested. Most of the time, it seemed to be both. I used to think that they were always mocking me. That had been a waste of a few years. Still, I’d made up for lost time.
‘Would you walk me to the tube?’ she asked.
‘Well, I’ve got to go to the gym. How far is it?’
‘Not far. St James’s Park.’ She raised her voice at the end as if asking a question.
‘That’s on my way. Let’s go.’
At the tube station, I did the usual trick of putting my hand on her waist as I gave her a goodbye kiss on the cheek. She grabbed my lapel, pulled me back, and pushed her face against mine. Our teeth smacked together with a clatter.
‘Ow.’
