Boy Underwater

by Adam Baron

  I’d stared at them.

  Once I’d got over the little hill.

  My soaking, shivering Mum, being held by the man from the mantelpiece. Loads of people came rushing up. The picnic people, Lance’s dad-dad, Veronique, Billy and Lance, and Auntie Mill too, hugging Mum and crying that she loved her as my dad held out his hand to me. I wanted to take it and I didn’t want to at the same time, stepping backwards because it was all too weird. Which is when I saw him.

  I just caught a glance of him, out of the corner of my eye.

  Mum must have taken him in with her. I hadn’t realised that, but she had. And she must have let him go – because he was there. He was in the shallower bit, where the current wasn’t very strong. He was moving around in a circle, and there was a second when I might have been able to jump in and grab him. I often think of that moment. I probably always will. But I was too slow. I didn’t take it and all I could do was watch as he turned round in the water, staring up at me with his big eyes, his ears spread out behind his head as he was sucked towards the middle. And then he slipped, and turned away, and there was nothing I could do, nothing but watch, my heart thumping, as Mr Fluffy tumbled, then disappeared, carried off by the rushing water.

  THE EN—

  I haven’t told you about Marcus Breen, have I?

  Well, he was very quiet at the pool today. To start with. Very un-Marcus Breen-like. But once the cheering died down, and I’d been hugged by everyone, we all gathered at the other end of the pool where Miss Phillips had to count us. She did it twice, telling us to stay still, until her face went totally white.

  ‘Marcus!’ she said. ‘Where is he?’

  We panicked, everyone staring around at the seats and the fire exit and down into the water, until Lance shoved his armpit in my face. He was pointing up – at the diving board. The really high one. At a figure up there. A tiny white figure who was … naked!

  ‘Look at me!’ Marcus shouted, and we all did. Everyone, all the parents and swimmers and everyone in the whole pool. ‘Look at me!’ he screamed again.

  ‘I’M CYMBELINE!’

  And then he leapt off the board, waggling his legs as he flew through the huge expanse of bright, clean air.

  As for Mr Fluffy, I’ve been thinking a bit more about him and I’ve realised something. He’s, well, with Antony now, isn’t he, which is where he belongs. And I’m with Mum, and Dad perhaps, and Lance and Veronique, and even Billy Lee.

  Which is where I belong too.

  THE END

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