on his knees. He could be looking at him, he could be asleep; the hood hid his face. All Ashoka could tell was that the guy was lean and tough-looking. His stillness was like that of a viper or mantis, about to pounce.
Ashoka gazed through the bars, hoping someone might be passing by, walking their dog or something.
I don’t have a mobile, or any money, thought Ashoka. He can see that. Maybe he’ll just let me go.
The boy got up. He moved with sure, athletic confidence. Black hoodie, pair of dark jeans, and all Ashoka could make out was a pair of glistening dark eyes. Trouble with a capital ‘Extreme Bodily Harm’.
“You need some help?” said the boy.
“No. I’m fine. Just resting.”
“The gate’s locked, in case you hadn’t realised.”
“Thanks.” Which is exactly why you’re here, waiting to trap someone and steal everything they’ve got.
“I haven’t got anything,” said Ashoka.
“Nice underpants.”
Oh, Jeez. He wants my underwear.
“They so won’t fit you,” said Ashoka.
“True. I’ve lost some weight recently.” The boy pointed at them. “Though I do, did, have a pair just like those.”
“You a Doctor Who fan?”
“David Tennant or nobody.”
Ashoka smiled. “Me too. The new guy just doesn’t count.”
There was a nod. “We have a lot in common.”
Ashoka peered at him, not sure whether or not the boy was being funny. He couldn’t tell.
The boy went to the padlock and lifted it up. He shook it, head tilted as if he was listening to it.
“You can’t open it,” said Ashoka.
The boy felt along the lock, probing with his fingertips. “Everything has a weakness. You just need to find it.”
He shook the padlock again, then squeezed it between his forefinger and thumb. He jerked it, hard.
The padlock held.
Ashoka tried not to laugh. “Er, well done.”
“I used to be better at this,” the boy muttered. He punched the padlock.
It snapped apart.
“Wow,” said Ashoka. “How d’you do that?”
“Just a trick, nothing special.” The boy drew the rattling chain out and pushed the gate open.
“Thanks.” Ashoka gazed down the path out of the woods. If he was quick he could be back before dinnertime. “Thanks a lot.”
“Anytime, Ash.”
Ashoka half opened the gate. “My name’s Ashoka. Not Ash. Not any more.”
“Since when?”
“Since—” He turned around. No one. He looked towards the trees. Just trees. The boy had been standing right there. Ashoka glanced up at the branches overhead. The boy must have flown away to vanish like that. Weird. Ah well. At least he was safe.
Ashoka set off, not fast, but steady. This last bit was downhill, thank goodness. He got to the Lordship Lane exit and stopped. Hold on.
“Anytime, Ash.”
How did he know my name?
“You heard that the next Doctor Who’s going to be a woman?” said Akbar. “Seriously, it’s all over the blogs.”
Ashoka bounced his dice in his hand. “Never going to happen.”
“Oh, and why not?” said Gemma. “I think a female doctor would be great. And about time too.”
“Yeah, Ash,” said Josh. “Why not a girl Who? You’d still watch it if they had Kermit as the Doctor.”
“How many times do I have to tell you, Josh? It’s Ashoka. Three syllables. Not complicated.”
“Joshua,” said Josh.
“What?” said Ashoka.
“If I have to call you Ashoka, you need to call me Joshua.”
“Fine. Joshua. Whatever. Can we get back to the game? My paladin aims his magic arrow at the necromancer.”
Tuesday night was Dungeons & Dragons night. Ashoka, Josh (sorry, Joshua), Akbar and Gemma were in the middle of exploring the ‘Caverns of Chaos’ and right now they were trying to stop an evil sorcerer from turning the entire population of the Greyfalcon into zombies. Or vampires. Or miscellaneous undead types.
Gemma picked up her dice. “My thief sneaks around the back of the columns. She’ll try and get closer to the Big Bad.”
Gemma had only joined a few months ago, right after Guy Fawkes Night. He’d thought she’d play once or twice, then stop and go off and do something cool with the other cool kids like Jack, but, proving that there was a God, she’d turned out to be a closet geek. So Tuesday night, as well as being Dungeons & Dragons, was Gemma night.
They reached over the table and repositioned their miniature figures. Akbar started describing how the evil necromancer was raising a horde of skeletal warriors from the ground, and Josh – Joshua – retaliated with his elvish sorcerer casting a fireball spell.
“Ignore Josh,” said Gemma as the battle progressed. “I like ‘Ashoka’.”
“Thanks.” It still took people a bit of getting used to. Most of the teachers remembered and his parents too, but half his mates still slipped up and he reckoned Josh – Joshua – was doing it on purpose. But Ashoka’s trip to India last year had changed his outlook on a lot of things. It had been the best holiday ever, and after coming home he’d decided to use his proper ‘Indian’ name from now on.
The battle wrapped, the bad guy dead and the city saved, they began to tidy up. Ten minutes later and Ashoka and Gemma were strolling down South Croxted Road. The wind blew along the path, carrying a vortex of leaves that swirled in the amber light of the streetlamps. Ashoka adjusted his coat, zipping it up to his chin. The cold went into the bones. Gemma had her hands stuffed in her jacket. They walked in silence.
I should try and hold hands, or something, he thought. How hard can that be?
Yeah, Ashoka, and while you’re at it you can try leaping that building in a single bound.
“Saw you coming back from cross-country,” Gemma said. “I assume it was you: covered in leaves and mud and your shorts all ripped at the back?”
