Just Thinkin'

Just Thinkin'

- You’re not scared are you?

- No! No, I’m not scared. I’m just....thinking.

Niall heard himself say that, but in a voice he barely recognised as his own.

- Thinking? You’re petrified!

The throng of assembled boys laughed and jostled for position. Niall wasn’t really sure what petrified meant – and was certainly surprised to hear Martin Kelly use the word – but if it meant really, REALLY scared, well then that’s what he was: petrified.

- Eat it, Mahoney! Eat it!!

Niall’s face felt hot and sticky. He tried to speak again, but his tongue was cemented to the roof of his parched mouth. Instead he tried a smile of defiance, but he had to force his lips across his bone-dry teeth and so managed only a peculiar grimace.

- Eat it! Eat it! Eat it!

The chant rose and swelled from the pushing, bobbing crowd all around him. His legs felt weak and oddly watery. He seemed to be hot and cold at the same time. He could hear his pulse throbbing loudly in his ears, all but drowning out the taunting washing over him in waves now. His heart was beating so fast it seemed to be rattling around in his chest. He wondered if it might vibrate right up his throat and out of his mouth. Then they'd see who was petrified, Martin Kelly.

Niall looked at the pinkish-grey worm: glistening, speckled with flinty soil, dangling in front of his face. He reached for it, his hand trembling. Time slowed down. The blood roaring in his head, the pulses of chanting from the assembled boys: all ebbed and died to nothing as through them rang a clarion call. Salvation, no less: the bell, and the end of lunch break.

END.