battles that I’d fought in Clarendon Road I could make things turn out just how I wanted (except for today). But things weren’t like that in the real world.
I shrugged. “The kids at school always look bored whenever I talk about something, and our teacher doesn’t notice you unless you’re really clever or really stupid. They think I’m lame, and that gladiators are too. But they’re not.”
“I see.” Grizzly frowned. “George helping you with your presentation?”
“Yeah,” I sighed, “he’s better at research and words than me. I made this instead.” I held out my helmet to show him. “It’s made of cardboard but I painted it.”
Grizzly beamed. “Would you look at that!” he said peering closer. “Thought it was real bronze for a minute.”
“Yeah?”
“Had me fooled!”
I liked that he said that, but then I checked the helmet over and saw that the crest had been crushed when I fell.
“Maybe I should redesign it or make some more armour, you know, like for protection or something.”
“So it matters what other people think, eh?” Grizzly said.
Of course it did.
Grizzly called Jack Pepper to come in, closed the gate and headed for his front door. The little dog stopped and stared at me through the bars of the gate.
“Tell your dad I’ll see him Friday,” Grizzly said. He whistled for Jack Pepper to come but that little dog stood there for the longest time with his tail quivering as if he’d rather come with me and be a gladiator too. Grizzly whistled again and Jack followed this time, still watching me, and I thought I heard Grizzly say, “He won’t win battles by having better armour, will he, Jack?”
Everybody had heard about the meteor that was coming our way. They said we’d even be able to see it flash across the sky from here. I looked out of my bedroom window and imagined Jupiter frowning down at me, disappointed that I’d lost my latest battle.
Jupiter was king of the sky and thunder; he held lightning in his bare hands, ready to hurl it at anybody who annoyed him. I wondered if he threw meteors too. I imagined Jupiter resting his chin on his fist.
Where’s the show then? he grumbled. Where are all the gladiators?
My little sister, Milly, came into my bedroom and stood beside me by the window. She pressed her head against the pane and looked up at the empty sky.
“Is the meteor coming?” she said.
“No, not yet,” I said.
Mrs Pardoe’s ginger cat was in the road though and I watched it to see if it was going to go to Grizzly’s bin.
“What are you looking at then?” Milly said.
I picked her up and sat her on the windowsill. “Look. Watch its shadow.”
The cat trotted through the beams of the street lights.
“It’s a small cat … now it’s growing and growing … now it’s huge!” The shadow shrunk and grew, shrunk and grew again as the animal trotted along the pavement. “It’s pretending to be a lion.”
“Is it?” she gasped.
The cat slunk along, pressed tight against the wall, its tail swinging and twitching.
“It’s stalking, catching prey,” I whispered, making it all dramatic.
Milly’s eyes were wide. “You mean it’s chasing a mouse, but actually it’s pretending it’s going to catch a … a hippopotamus?”
I don’t know why she said hippopotamus. “Well, yeah, but probably an antelope or zebra, that kind of thing.”
“It’s like real but not real,” she said, “and magical.” I smiled. The cat disappeared over a wall. Milly sighed. “Will you come downstairs now? We’re all waiting.”
“Hang on a minute,” I said. I thought I’d show her the helmet and see what she thought, see if she could imagine it too. “Close your eyes a second.”
“I can’t close my eyes,” she said, dead serious.
“Why not?”
“When I do, I keep seeing the meteor and it scares me. What’s going to happen to us?”
“Nothing’s going to happen,” I said. “It’s just going to burn bright for a minute and then it’ll be gone. It’ll be pretty. You’ll like it.”
“Really?” Then she leaned over and whispered, “Tell me the truth. Do you love your new trainers the best?”
I looked down at my feet, turned out my ankles.
“I helped pick them,” she said, staring at my feet too. Milly was only six. I couldn’t tell her that I was disappointed I didn’t get a new bike.
“They are the absolute best trainers ever,” I told her. I put on my Roman helmet, with fierce eyeholes and a terrifying square mouth and curved crest on the top, now held up with sticky tape. “Tell me the truth. Do I look like a gladiator?”
“No, because I know it’s you,” Milly giggled “Now come on, we’ve got a treat.”
“Smart trainers, hey, son?” Dad said from the sofa, taking up two spaces as usual. He spread his hands out towards the coffee table. “We’ve got all your favourites, plus … secret ingredient on the chicken.” He winked and chuckled.
“Garlic,” Mum said, with a knowing nod, and went out to the kitchen.
“Chocolate?” Milly said. “Could it be chocolate?”
“Chilli,” Kirsty said. “I think it’s chilli.”
We did this every time, tried to guess what that extra-special flavour was. We’d probably guessed right a long time ago but Dad would never tell.
“What do you think, Leo, my little dreamer? What’s your best birthday guess?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Leo doesn’t know much about anything, apart from playing gladiators!” Kirsty said. “Don’t you think it’s a bit babyish playing pretend games? No wonder you’ve only got one dorky friend.”
Kirsty had loads of friends and everyone liked her but they didn’t know how mean she could be sometimes.
“I think it’s lovely,” Mum said, before Kirsty and me could argue
