Novel Excerpt

"Fack's sake, Elvis, ya s'posed to keep the fackin' warta in the fackin' paddlin' pool!

Larry cuffed his brother round the back of the head and ripped the small, plastic bucket out of his hands. Elvis immediately burst into dreadful howls of tears and slapped both his hands into the remaining water, splashing them both. Larry made a lunge towards him, fist raised, but with a swift look towards the still-open front door, thought better of it. Instead, he began bellowing "Ma! Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! and disappeared inside briefly, only to reappear again with a glass of lemonade.

From within the house, a shrill female voice yelled "Ellllllllllvis! Elvis, still sobbing, stood up and ran into the house. Larry pulled the door to, took a sip from his drink, and ambled over to a battered sun-lounger and table. Peering briefly into the paddling pool, he sat down, adjusted his balls and sat back, staring into space.

This was too good an opportunity to be missed. I wiped my mouth on my sleeve with anticipation, robbing them of the last of their moisture. Clutching my catapult in one hand, I stuffed the other into my pocket and removed the stones I had collected earlier. One in particular was a perfect size and weight, light brown and cool on the palm of my hand. I clutched it between finger and thumb and kissed it, chucking it lightly in the air and catching it again before loading it into the catapult's leather pouch.

Unaware, Larry had lifted his black vest top to reveal his stomach to the sun. He'd also removed his shoes and rolled up his combat trousers. His glass of lemonade sat glistening beside him. Near by, I noticed his beloved mountain bike leaning lazily up against the front gate. From an open upstairs window, a lace curtain flapped with due sloth.

From the woods, I squinted once and allowed my eyes to re-focus. Raising the catapult, I allowed my breathing to slow before taking one, single, deep breath and holding it. My eyes narrowed as I pulled back on the thick yellow elastic. My hands shook momentarily as they adjusted to the strain and the elastic creaked. Everything stopped in that moment, an awesome stillness that seems to say that from this moment, everything will change forever. For a second, I stared into the abyss of time and felt as though something imperceptible stared back. Then I fired.

* * *

The glass shattered instantly. Larry received his second showering of the day, this time in glass and lemonade. Leaping up from his seat, he stared at the now empty table, then down at his trousers, before looking back to the table. The shot was perfect and the result better than any of us could have planned for. I had no time to congratulate my self though, as I was already on the move. Stage 2 was under way.

Larry was clearly surprised to see me suddenly slide out of the bushes and come running across the road. He stood, open mouthed, looking more vacant than usual. My catapult was back in my pocket and, as I approached him, I pulled back my hood to reveal my face.
"Drink up, Larry, I laughed, "you don't want any accidents!

I'm not sure he understood, but his reaction was immediate. At first, he made as if to jump over the fence, but clearly his past experiences had taught him a degree of caution. I had already steamed past him and was heading down the track as fast as I was able. Larry grabbed his bike and I could hear the whir of the pedals as he came thundering behind me.

"Cam 'ere, ya fackin' cunt!

I didn't dare look behind me. I willed my legs to move faster and I felt as though I was falling through space, praying not to fall. He was almost on me when I rounded the corner and tumbled onto the green.

I saw Sponge first. Just when I thought I was finished, he appeared. Or rather, the end of his stick did, protruding anonymously from a bush. I didn't look at him; I just kept going, trying to fill my exhausted lungs with giant gulps of air. I was glad he hadn't tripped me, but surely there was no time, there just wasn't time. Larry was right behind me, we'd planned on there being more of a gap between us. Please. Please!

Then it happened. From where I stood, it was as though a great invisible hand reached out and plucked Larry from the seat of his saddle. Larry launched spectacularly into the air, legs flailing and a look of terror and surprise cast into his face. There was a tremendous snapping sound as the great sticks that had been mercilessly plunged from both sides into the wheels of Larry's bike splintered, leaving their downed prey to collapse into the verge. Larry himself landed with a crunch that turned into a brief roll, and finally a sprawled stillness. A triumphant cheer went up immediately as Flares burst from his hiding place, punching the air and clutching his stomach in convulsions of laughter. Sponge was ecstatic also and was performing some peculiar ceremonial dance.

Larry lay rolling on the floor, clutching his head. Flares ran straight to me, the bottoms of his trousers flapping with excitement.

"Fucking brilliant, Mannii! That was fucking brilliant!

He slapped me on the back, but I'd seen enough. It was time to get gone. But where was Sponge?

Sponge had begun rounding on the sprawled Larry.

"What's he up to? said Flares, equally fazed.

"Sponge? I questioned.

He had puffed his chest out again, tightening the muscles in his bare torso. Bollocks, I thought, any minute now he'll start up with that bloody swagger and then who knows what'll happen?

"Sponge! I put more urgency into my voice. "Come on! We've got to get out of here!

Sponge was fixed on Larry the way a python fixes its prey. He cracked his knuckles and spat on the floor. Larry seemed oblivious, he wasn't going any where, and he'd certainly taken enough for now. Not again, I thought, not after last time! Bloody Sponge, always having to make a point, going all alpha-male on us. One last try then I was going to be off, Sponge or No-Sponge!

"Sponge. My voice was calm, but direct. "His parents are going to be out here in a minute. Come on.

The trance was broken. Sponge looked at me and looked back at Larry. A genuine look of disappointment passed over his face briefly, and he sniffed before he spat on the still-prone Larry. The gob landed on the side of his face, and he raised a limp hand in a vain attempt at defence.

Sponge strode over to us, "Let's get out of here.

Then he smiled, and he cheered, and then Flares cheered too. It had been amazing and we would have to work hard to do better next year.

As we disappeared away from the green, I looked back and saw Larry picking himself up and limping back towards his bike. I nudged Sponge, who laughed, and, realising what we were looking at, Flares screamed out a "FAG-END! that sent a shock of crows up into the air from where they were nestled, high up in the trees. Larry mustered up enough to give us the finger, but we were already gone, our cries echoing like gulls around the walls of the valley.