by D C Grant
Chapter Three
He was drowning. There was water in his nose and mouth. He didn’t know which way was up or down. Where was the surface? He had to get to the surface. There! But the water was pushing him down. He was in a hole. He was drowning.
“Josh,” his mother’s voice called.
If he could reach her, he’d be safe.
“Josh, wake up!” She was shaking his shoulder.
“What?” He could breathe. He wasn’t underwater. He was in his bed.
“You’re going to be late. You’ve got an exam today.”
“So?” The blanket was over his head. Maybe that was why he thought he was underwater.
“I’m leaving now. I’ve got to get to school. I can’t stay here any longer. This is the third time I’ve tried to get you up.”
“Dad can take me.”
“He’s left already.”
Josh wondered where his father could have gone if the business was finished but he wasn’t going to spend too much time worrying about it.
“You’ll have to find your own way to school,” his mother said and left the room.
He rolled over and groaned. He didn’t want to go to school, especially not to write a Maths exam. He’d just have to fail.
A few minutes later he heard the automatic garage door wind itself up and his mother’s car start. The car pulled into the road, the door slowly rolled its way down and she was gone.
He sighed as he realised that he’d have to get up. If he didn’t write the exam then he’d fail the subject and have to repeat it next year. There was no way he was going to let that happen. He’d have to be at school before 8.40 a.m. He glanced over at his bedside clock: 8.20.
He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and pushed himself up. He wondered if he had time for a shower. No, he’d never make it. He dressed quickly into his school uniform, checked he had his phone and grabbed his backpack.
He found his bike leaning against the wall in the garage. He’d not ridden it for months, but it appeared to be okay. Pressing button to open the garage door, he jumped on the bike and pedaled out onto the road.
The ride to school cleared his head. It was a downhill run and he let the bike carry him most of the way, arriving at the school gate just as the first bell rang. He swung in, laying the bike over and, without warning, someone stepped out in front of him. There was no way that Josh could avoid him. He slewed sideways and hit the boy with enough force to knock him to the ground. Josh wobbled as he struggled to control the bike and managed to bring it to a stop without falling off. He looked over his shoulder at the boy on the ground.
“Are you alri--” He stopped when he saw who he’d hit.
“You little shit,” Bevan said as he rolled over and glared at him. Scott and Mitch were just behind. Scott put out his hand to Bevan and helped him to his feet. “Come here!” Bevan started towards Josh.
Josh didn’t wait for him. He pushed the bike and strained at the pedals to get away.
“I’ll get you later, dickhead,” Bevan called out.
Josh groaned. Could a bad day get any worse?
He reached the bike rack, inserted his front wheel between the metal stands and glanced behind him. Bevan had disappeared together with his two friends and he breathed a sigh of relief. He was safe, for now at least, but he couldn’t get rid of the feeling that Bevan had been waiting for him.
He’d forgotten his bike padlock in his rush to get to school on time. He’d have to take the chance that it would still be there when he got back. He ran to his classroom and made it just as the second bell rang.
Three hours later Josh left the classroom in a daze – the Maths exam had been tougher than he expected and he was sure he’d failed it. He didn’t know why he even bothered getting up that morning. He walked to the bike rack but his bike was gone. He guessed that was inevitable. There was nothing he could do but walk home and hope that his parents wouldn’t notice that his bike was missing.
He left school and began to walk up the hill. It was just past midday now and the day had turned hot. All he wanted to do was to get home, take a cool shower and get back into bed.
At the top of the hill, he turned off the main road into the side street that would take him to the cul-de-sac where he lived. He’d only gone a little way when a car pulled up beside him. Looking around with relief, he expected to see his mother who sometimes came home for lunch. Instead it was a black convertible. The top was down and Bevan was driving, with Scott in the front passenger seat and Mitch in the back.
“Hey, Josh, you looking for this?” Mitch called out as he lifted up a bicycle wheel. The tyre on it had been shredded.
“The rest is in the boot,” Bevan said. “Want it back?”
Josh didn’t answer. He just stood still. He glanced up the road but he was too far from his street to make a run for his house. Apprehensively, he watched as all three got out of the car. Bevan walked over to him.
“So you don’t think I can surf, eh?” Bevan asked.
Why had he opened his mouth? He looked at Mitch and Scott who were raising the boot lid. They must have told Bevan and now he was out to get him. He’d been right. It was no coincidence that Bevan had been at the school gates that morning.
“I … I didn’t say that.”
“No?”
As Bevan came forward, Josh retreated until he was up against a tall fence. Again he looked up the road. It was empty. No cars, no people. He was on his own. From the boot of the car the two boys took out the other bicycle wheel, its rubber also shredded, followed by the frame, the handlebars and finally the seat, which was ripped. The resulting pile looked like it was ready for inorganic rubbish collection. When they had finished they walked over to stand behind Bevan.
“No more lethal weapon, eh?” Bevan sneered. “You won’t be running anyone over now.”
“It was an accident,” Josh explained.
“No shit,” Bevan said into his face. “So’s this.” And he punched Josh hard in the stomach.
The air rushed from Josh’s lungs with a whoop sound and he doubled over. Pain rushed through his stomach. He almost fell, but Mitch grabbed his arm.
“Sorry, mate,” Scott whispered into his ear as he took hold of Josh’s other arm. Together, Scott and Mitch held him securely against the fence.
Bevan struck Josh on the jaw and his teeth snapped shut, making him bite down on his tongue. The next blow was to the side of his face, close to his left eye. A ring on Bevan’s finger cut into his skin. The last few blows were to his ribs and stomach, quick two-handed punches that pushed the rest of the air from his lungs. Josh’s legs gave way and the two boys on either side let him go so that he fell to the ground.
“That’ll teach you,” Bevan said from somewhere above him as he savagely kicked him.
Josh had curled up to protect his head and stomach but Bevan’s kick caught him in the ribs and he heard something crack. Someone was pulling at his backpack.
“Not much in his wallet,” Scott said. “But I’ve got his phone.”
“Good,” Bevan said. “Now let’s get out of here.”
He heard them get back into the car and drive away, wheels spinning, covering him with clouds of acrid smoke.
