The Climbers

by Keith Gray

  Nottingham squared up to me. “You’ve got a seriously big head on you,” he said. “I suppose it needs to be big enough to fit your big mouth.”

  Some of the kids laughed, some gasped too. But I just shrugged. I’d heard it all before. I was often told I had a big head, that I was boastful and a show-off, or even that I was too big for my boots. Whatever. It didn’t change anything. I was the best climber in the village: one hundred per cent I was. It wasn’t boasting if all you were doing was telling the truth.

  “What if I told you I’m the best climber where I come from?” Nottingham asked.

  “There are a lot of trees in Nottingham, are there?” I asked. “In Nottingham city.”

  Some of the other climbers chuckled and I grinned at them, lapping it up.

  But Nottingham nodded. “There are loads of trees just outside the city, yeah. You’ve never heard of Sherwood Forest?”

  He laughed at the look on my face. I tried to hide how jealous I felt. I knew I’d love to climb in a forest. And Sherwood Forest was one of the most famous forests in the world. I reckoned the trees there would be amazing.

  “I bet there are some brilliant trees in Sherwood Forest,” Zoe said as if she could read my mind.

  “Awesome trees,” her boyfriend Marvin agreed.

  “The best,” his brother Harvey said.

  Then all the other climbers were agreeing and asking Nottingham questions about the trees in Sherwood Forest. How tall were they? What kind of trees? How many had he climbed? Were they taller than the Big Five?

  “I’ve not climbed them all,” Nottingham said. “There are too many in the forest. But I bet I could climb any tree here.”

  I reckoned I wasn’t the only one with a big head.

  “I’ll bet you,” I said. And everyone went silent. “I bet I know a tree you can’t climb.”

  I saw a flash of worry in his eyes. But he couldn’t back down.

  “Now?” Nottingham asked. “Right now after I just climbed this one?” He hooked a thumb backwards at Twisted Sister.

  “No time limit,” I said. “Go as slow as you like. Take all day for all I care. But straight up. No falls. Just one go. Deal?”

  Nottingham looked more trapped here on the ground than he had been up there between the branches of Twisted Sister. The other climbers shouted for him to “Do it!” Everyone was excited for him to prove how good he was. He knew it was going to be more difficult to back down from my challenge than it was to climb down from a corkscrew willow.

  “And if I make it to the top?” Nottingham asked. “What do I get if I win the bet?”

  “You’ll be the best climber in the village,” Harvey yelled.

  But I shook my head. No way.

  “No,” I said. “It takes a lot more than climbing just one or two trees to prove you’re the best.”

  “How about you give him your bike, then?” Marvin said.

  I was going to say no again, but the other kids were all nodding. All except Mish, who took hold of my arm and said it would be stupid to give him my bike.

  Nottingham wandered over to the bikes lying in the grass. Harvey pointed out which one was mine.

  “Don’t agree to it,” Mish said to me. “What would your mum say?”

  Mum had given me the bike for my birthday last month. It had been the best present ever. I’d been out on it nearly every day since, escaping our house.

  Nottingham nodded and rubbed his still-red palms together. “OK. Deal,” he said. “It’s a cool bike. I’ll look good on it.”

  And then there was no way I could back down either.

  We didn’t shake hands. Instead we both spat on the ground at each other’s feet to seal the deal.

  “He’s not going to win the bet,” I told Mish, but maybe I was telling myself too. What was more important to me? Being called the best climber in the village or keeping my bike?

  “Which tree?” Nottingham asked.

  I reckoned the other climbers thought I was going to say he had to climb the biggest tree, the last tree, the one without a name. But I was worried about how good at climbing he was. And Nottingham naming that last tree would be worse than losing my title or my bike. So instead I pointed to the larch tree in the park’s back corner. We called it Spider Trap.

  “That one?” Nottingham asked. “You’re kidding. Dead easy.”

  Nobody agreed with him.

  CHAPTER 6

  At least fifteen climbers followed me and Nottingham across the park. This was exciting entertainment. Almost as exciting as climbing a tree for themselves. There were some noisy little kids playing on the swings and slide, but they were still too young to be good climbers. Even so, I reckoned a few of them had already had a go at Spider Trap. It looked so easy.

  The larch tree had a spindly carroty shape that went up to a point at nineteen metres tall. It looked to be a doddle of a climb because of its curved, sweeping branches. They seemed as regular as ladder steps. It had tight clusters of needles rather than leaves, but nothing a pair of gloves couldn’t handle. I reckoned Nottingham was thinking I was crazy to choose such a dead easy tree. I was worried someone might tell him the real reason I’d chosen it, but everyone kept their mouths shut.

  Marvin wheeled my bike next to us as we walked. “I’ll give it to whoever wins the bet,” he said.

  “Are you gonna climb too?” Zoe asked me.

  I shook my head. “The bet is that Nottingham can’t climb it. Everyone already knows I can.”

  “And you’re not going to tell him to watch out?” she asked.

  I shook my head again. “Why should I?”

  “It’s kind of mean,” Zoe said. “Don’t you think it’s mean, Mish?”

  Mish didn’t answer. But I could read the expression on her face. And, yes, she did think I was being mean.

  “I don’t want to lose my bike,” I said to Zoe.

  “Do you care more about the bike or being the best climber?” Mish asked me.

  Harvey was grinning, with his phone out ready for photos. He clearly thought it was going to be hilarious.

  We all gathered around the bottom of Spider Trap. It was late afternoon, but the June sun still felt hot. The tree cast a splash of cool shadow.

  “All I’ve got to do is get up, right?” Nottingham asked.

  I nodded.

  “No time limit and I get a nice new bike?” he checked.

  I nodded again. I heard Mish tut.

  Nottingham stepped up to the tree. The branches came down as low as his knees. I guessed he knew there was a catch or a trap. I just hoped he didn’t work out what it was.

  We gave our trees names for good reasons.

  Nottingham took his black cap off. His spiky hair was damp and flattened underneath.

  “Why don’t you look after this for me?” he said as he gave the cap to me. “I won’t be long.”

  “Keep it on,” Zoe told Nottingham. “Seriously.”

  But Marvin shushed her. I reckoned he wanted my plan to work just as much as I did.

  It seemed like all the other climbers crowded around were holding their breath. I was nervous watching Nottingham. I hadn’t climbed this tree in ages and I hoped it still lived up to its reputation. Otherwise the bike would be long gone, with Nottingham’s Swift Runs doing the pedalling.

  Nottingham wasn’t going to be rushed. He walked in a circle around the base of the tree, looking for the best branches to start. When he seemed sure of his choice, he said, “If you run off with your bike when I make it to the top, I’ll find out where you live and kick the crap out of you.”

  “I won’t,” I said. But I realised I was hopping from foot to foot, feeling the tension in the air.

  The larch’s low branches swept out wide at the bottom of the tree. We all watched as Nottingham pushed between them to get to the trunk in the middle of all that spiky green. He put a foot on the lowest branch and stepped up, getting his hands on the trunk. Right away he stepped onto the next branch, both his f
eet now off the ground. Then he was fast up to the next branch, his head pushing up between the clusters of needles. Another fast step up.

  Then he jumped down to the ground just as fast with a surprised yelp.

  Nottingham swore and slapped himself on his face and neck.

  He crashed his way back out from in between the branches. He tried to yell again, but he had a mouth full of cobwebs. I counted at least four spiders on his face and chin, with two more skittering around the back of his neck. One was stuck to the sweat on his cheek, its fat body pulsing and its long hairy legs waving. Nottingham flailed at himself, hitting himself, slapping himself. He danced around like he was banging his head to heavy metal music as he tried to get rid of the itchy critters in his hair.

  Even if you weren’t scared of spiders, shoving your face in a bunch of cobwebs would always be bad news. And Spider Trap had dozens and dozens and dozens of thick, sticky cobwebs hidden in its branches.

  The crowd of climbers pointed and shrieked and howled with laughter. Everyone thought Nottingham’s prancing and flapping and swearing was hilarious. He soon calmed down once he’d got over the disgusting surprise. But it wasn’t only Harvey who’d had his phone out. The other climbers began flicking through their photos, laughing even harder. They’d be on Instagram, YouTube, TikTok in a few seconds. Nottingham would be a viral star any minute now.

  “You tricked me,” he said. He snatched his cap from me as I held it out to him. But before he put it back on again he brushed a hand through his hair in case there were any more bugs hiding in his fringe. He was angry and embarrassed and the thin scar across his cheek looked livid.

  “You lost,” I told him. “Fastest fall ever.”

  Mish took my bike back from Marvin with an overly polite “Thank you”.

  Nottingham clenched both fists, looking like he wanted to punch me. He had bright red bites on his face and forehead. I knew they’d break out in blobs as big as Smarties and be as itchy as hell.

  “I’m a better climber and you know it,” Nottingham said. “That’s why you had to trick me. You know I can climb any tree here. All of them.”

  It was Zoe who pointed at the last of the Big Five, the unnamed tree. “How about that one?” she said. “It’s the biggest in the village.”

  Nottingham acted like he wasn’t impressed. “If you say so. No sweat. Seen a million of them in Sherwood Forest. Easy.”

  “No one’s ever climbed it before,” Marvin said.

  Nottingham scoffed and looked at me. “Not even Mr Best-Climber-In-The-Village?”

  Marvin shook his head. “No, but he says he’s going to.”

  “It’s the only tree around here that hasn’t got a name yet,” Harvey said. He was no longer interested in the photos on his phone. “Whoever climbs it first will get to call it what they want, just like with all the other trees.” Harvey pointed at me. “He wants to call it Sullivan’s Skystabber. At least that’s what he tells everyone.”

  I was horrified by everything they were telling Nottingham and wanted them all to shut up. I glanced at Mish, but she just shrugged.

  Nottingham looked disgusted. “That’s the crappest, nerdiest name for a tree I’ve ever heard,” he said, looking me right in the eye. Then he turned around and shouted, “Who wants to see me beat Sully to the top of this tree?”

  Most of the climbers put up their hands and shouted, “Yes!” That hurt. They were meant to be my friends. Harvey had his hand up too.

  “Meet me here on Sunday morning,” Nottingham said to me. “Ten o’clock. No stupid tricks. Climber versus climber. Straight up. And when I beat you to the top, I’ll give it a proper name.”

  “Like what?” Mish asked.

  Nottingham looked across the park at the huge yew tree, the last of the Big Five. It towered over everything else at thirty metres high.

  “I’m not gonna give it some stupid nerdy or fancy name,” he said. “I’ll call it exactly what it is: King Big and Tall.”

  PART 3

  Ash (Fraxinus excelsior)

  Deciduous – Europe – 23 metres

  CHAPTER 7

  Later that evening, Mish and I were in my bedroom. It was a mess. Mish didn’t mind – she was used to it.

  “Nobody wants someone from outside the village naming the last tree,” I said. “It’s our tree. Nottingham’s only been here five minutes. He’s not got reach.”

  “Can we just get this homework finished?” Mish asked. She pointed at the pile of French worksheets.

  I didn’t have a desk in my room and had to use the top of my chest of drawers to work on. Mish sat on the edge of my bed, trying but failing to get me to focus on our homework.

  “It’s Friday night,” I said.

  “Exactly,” Mish said. “I don’t want to leave it until the last minute on Sunday again. I always get bad marks when I rush my homework.”

  “You’ve been hanging around with brain-box Harvey too much.”

  She shrugged. “I just want to get it done.”

  But homework was the last worry on my mind. “King Big and Tall sounds like something a five year old would call the tree,” I said. Again.

  I couldn’t sit still. I couldn’t keep my voice down. I couldn’t stop going on and on about Nottingham and our competition to climb the last tree on Sunday.

  “I have to be the one to name it,” I said. Again. “I’ve got to be.”

  With a growly sigh, Mish slammed her pen down on the top of my drawers. “I’m going home.”

  “What? Why?” I said.

  “Because I want to get all this done,” she said, slapping her palm on her French book. “We’ve got to hand it in next week. You said we’d do it together.”

  “I’m not any good at French,” I said, pulling a face as if the French language left a bad taste in my mouth.

  “Nor me,” Mish said. “It’s so difficult. Which is why I really, really need to try hard at it. But if you’re not even going to bother …”

  “Why do you think Nottingham said to meet him on Sunday?” I asked. “Why not tomorrow? D’you reckon he’s going to sneak back and try to climb the tree when I’m not there?”

  Mish sighed again, but quieter. She gathered the schoolwork together and put it in her bag.

  “He’s so damn smug,” I went on. “Not even from around here but reckons he’s the best already. D’you think he’s good looking?”

  My question seemed to shock Mish. She gave me a weird look.

  My question shocked me a bit too. “His scar’s cool,” I said, trying to explain myself. I ran my finger across my cheek, following the line of Nottingham’s scar. “How d’you think he got it? I reckon a branch did it when he fell out of some tree in Sherwood Forest.”

  “I don’t really care,” Mish said. “I’m going. See you tomorrow.”

  “Don’t go home,” I said. “Let’s go to the park in case he’s climbing the last tree without me.”

  “It’s nearly ten o’clock. He’s not going to be climbing.”

  “Tomorrow morning, then,” I said. “But early. First thing. In case he goes early too.”

  Mish shrugged. “Maybe. But I have to do this French. I hate being bottom of the class all the time.”

  More and more these days Mish was acting as if she didn’t care so much about climbing. She didn’t come out with me all the time like she used to. I’d thought it was because her mum had been ill for a while and Mish had to take loads of time off school to look after her. We’d all been worried that she might have to go into hospital. But even when her mum got better, Mish had stayed home more often. She’d told me she was still looking after her mum, but I began to think she was just catching up with all her schoolwork.

  We used to meet up with other climbers under the trees at the side of the churchyard, or in the grove behind Cooper’s Lot, or most often in the park. Mish would time me as I climbed, watching from below. She’d help me find the fastest routes and best branches. It was what we did. It was what most
of the kids around here did. What else was there to do?

  “You’re not on Nottingham’s side, are you?” I asked. “D’you want him to beat me?”

  Mish was stepping over a pile of clothes on my floor and almost tripped with surprise. “What?”

  “D’you fancy Nottingham and want him to beat me?” I asked.

  “Don’t be an idiot,” Mish replied.

  I shrugged. “You just said he was good looking.”

  “I never.” She blushed, which made me instantly think she was guilty. “You were the one who said his scar looked cool,” she said.

  We stared at each other in silence, both waiting and worried about what was going to be said next. But then my brother barged in without knocking. I hadn’t even known he was home.

  “Hey, lovebirds!” Nev said. He was leering like a perv. “Hope you’ve both got your clothes on.”

  “Don’t be a moron,” I told him.

  “Shut up, Nev,” Mish said.

  Nev made his eyes all big and googly, and laughed in my face. He had beer breath.

  He was four years older than me with long greasy hair in a ponytail. He loved old-fashioned rock music, bands nobody normal had ever heard of. He’d been learning to play the guitar for about a million years. But since he’d lost his job as a forklift driver, he now spent most of his time in the local pub.

  “It’s about time you two got it on,” Nev said. He stretched his lips in a beery, leery grin. “She’s the only girl you’re not scared of, isn’t that right?” He pretended to punch me in the stomach. I curled up to protect myself and Nev slapped me hard around the head instead. I fell for it every time.

  “Just tell me what you want,” I said. “Then get out.”

  “Don’t talk to me like that,” Nev said. “I’m doing you a favour. One of your little mates is at the door.”

  Mish and I glanced at each other. Who’d be calling round my house at ten at night?

  We had to push past Nev to get out of my bedroom. He slapped me again as I shoved by him and my eyes started to water.

  “Answer the door yourself in the future,” Nev said. “I’m not your servant.”