later. A fair part of my acceptance hinged around my soccer ball. The boy with the bat or ball is always popular so I’d begged and pleaded until my parents gave me one for Christmas. It pushed their budget to the limit and came with the stern admonition to ‘look after it’. I looked after it as though it were a holy relic because I knew with absolute certainty that if I lost it there’d be no replacement. I was the only one who looked after things. Give Nigel a soccer ball and you’d be lucky if it lasted a year. The stitching split on the last one he’d had after just six months. And Maxie lost the footy he got for his birthday after just three months. He left it down the park one day and that was that. If I didn’t look after my ball we’d have nothing at all to play with.I stopped walking and stared at Eric incredulously. They’d trapped me down in the drain for doing the right thing and looking after my ball? Clearly they’d been looking for ways to get even ever since. To say I was staggered was the understatement of the year. I decided right then that I’d never let them play with my ball again. Never. That would show them.
By then I was nearing the top of Cockburn Street and I still hadn’t said a word since leaving the easement. Clarry, Ken, Gary and even Big Ryan had dropped off and slunk home, all hoping the others would somehow talk me out of telling Dad. Ryan’s dad had been to gaol and we all reckoned he’d get hit harder than any of us. As tough as he was, Ryan was almost in tears when he sloped off.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Eric. I could see he was. ‘We didn’t know the water would rise. We didn’t think of that. We wouldn’t have done it if we’d known that.’
So it was OK to trap me down there alone in the darkness so long as the water didn’t rise? What if there’d been hoary, great rats or giant eels or, worse, some kind of prehistoric monster? Eric’s role hurt me most of all. We were supposed to be inseparable, pals for life.
‘You’re just a cry-baby,’ said Maxie. He was always the first to go on the offensive. ‘Can’t take a joke. Typical bloody Pommy cry-baby.’
There it was, the ultimate insult. By then we’d reached Richmond Road. Maxie made me more determined than ever to make them pay.
‘We’ll soon see who the cry-babies are,’ I said viciously.
‘If you tell your dad I’ll never speak to you again.’ Now Eric was starting to blub. So what? I’d already decided Gary was going to be my new best pal. I left the three of them on the corner of Chamberlain Street and went home. They all knew that this time they were really in for it. I entered through the shop, past Mum. I knew Nigel would be panicking, expecting Mum to call him home immediately. If Maxie was true to form, he’d take off. Whenever he was on a hiding he always ran away and hid under the clubhouse. The silly bugger always hid in the same place so we knew exactly where to find him.
What none of them could have realised was that I was beginning to have a few doubts. My change of heart surprised me as much as it would’ve surprised them had they known. The fact was, telling your dad was one of the worst things anyone could do to their pals and the repercussions were felt for weeks. I knew because I’d felt them. Nobody would have anything to do with me for ages last time I’d dobbed them in. If I’d learned anything then it was to think twice before doing it again. I’d seen how scared my pals were and also how remorseful. It occurred to me that maybe just the threat of telling Dad was enough—provided they’d believed me, and there was little doubt about that. They were pissing themselves. Sometimes the anticipation of a belting is worse than the actual thing. I began to savour the hold I had over them. Whoever said revenge was sweet didn’t even get close.It was delicious. My decision was made easier by the fact that my brain was starting to kick in with ideas about writing another
By then I was nearing the top of Cockburn Street and I still hadn’t said a word since leaving the easement. Clarry, Ken, Gary and even Big Ryan had dropped off and slunk home, all hoping the others would somehow talk me out of telling Dad. Ryan’s dad had been to gaol and we all reckoned he’d get hit harder than any of us. As tough as he was, Ryan was almost in tears when he sloped off.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Eric. I could see he was. ‘We didn’t know the water would rise. We didn’t think of that. We wouldn’t have done it if we’d known that.’
So it was OK to trap me down there alone in the darkness so long as the water didn’t rise? What if there’d been hoary, great rats or giant eels or, worse, some kind of prehistoric monster? Eric’s role hurt me most of all. We were supposed to be inseparable, pals for life.
‘You’re just a cry-baby,’ said Maxie. He was always the first to go on the offensive. ‘Can’t take a joke. Typical bloody Pommy cry-baby.’
There it was, the ultimate insult. By then we’d reached Richmond Road. Maxie made me more determined than ever to make them pay.
‘We’ll soon see who the cry-babies are,’ I said viciously.
‘If you tell your dad I’ll never speak to you again.’ Now Eric was starting to blub. So what? I’d already decided Gary was going to be my new best pal. I left the three of them on the corner of Chamberlain Street and went home. They all knew that this time they were really in for it. I entered through the shop, past Mum. I knew Nigel would be panicking, expecting Mum to call him home immediately. If Maxie was true to form, he’d take off. Whenever he was on a hiding he always ran away and hid under the clubhouse. The silly bugger always hid in the same place so we knew exactly where to find him.
What none of them could have realised was that I was beginning to have a few doubts. My change of heart surprised me as much as it would’ve surprised them had they known. The fact was, telling your dad was one of the worst things anyone could do to their pals and the repercussions were felt for weeks. I knew because I’d felt them. Nobody would have anything to do with me for ages last time I’d dobbed them in. If I’d learned anything then it was to think twice before doing it again. I’d seen how scared my pals were and also how remorseful. It occurred to me that maybe just the threat of telling Dad was enough—provided they’d believed me, and there was little doubt about that. They were pissing themselves. Sometimes the anticipation of a belting is worse than the actual thing. I began to savour the hold I had over them. Whoever said revenge was sweet didn’t even get close.It was delicious. My decision was made easier by the fact that my brain was starting to kick in with ideas about writing another
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