his familiar whistle as he walked back along the garden path.
Unsure of what had just happened, I stayed where I was – kneeling on the floor – until the whistling had faded into the distance. Hector’s weirdness shouldn’t have bothered me, but for some reason my heart was pumping like it was about to break out of my chest.
‘What are you doing?’ demanded Mum. Her voice made me jump upright in fright. I turned and saw her standing in the kitchen doorway, her hands on the hips of her pale brown dressing gown. ‘You’ll miss the bus. You’re going to be late for school.’
Mum was right. I was late for my first lesson, English, though not by much. The fact I arrived only two minutes after class had started didn’t seem to matter to Mr Preston, though. He was lounging in his chair with his hands behind his head when I stumbled my way into his classroom.
‘Well, well, speak of the devil,’ tutted the teacher, swivelling his seat to face me. ‘We were just discussing you, Mr Alexander.’
I glanced at the neatly spaced rows of not-so-friendly faces sitting in front of me and felt my cheeks redden with embarrassment.
‘Sorry I’m late,’ I offered, making a move towards the one empty desk in the class.
‘Not so fast there,’ Mr Preston said. His chair gave a squeak as he leaned forwards and stood up. His fingers brushed the polished surface of the motorbike helmet that sat, in pride of place, on his desk, then he shuffled lazily across to the blackboard.
Mr Preston is into motorbikes in a big way. I know this because he spends at least one whole lesson a week talking in excruciating detail about his own motorcycle. Once he joked that he loves the bike more than he loves his wife.
At least, I think he was joking.
The rest of the class and I watched as he chalked the words ‘What I Did in the Holidays’ on to the board.
‘To break us in gently, we were about to discuss what we did during the Christmas break,’ he explained, turning to face me. ‘Since you’re already up on your feet, perhaps you’d do us the honour of going first?
My cheeks felt like they were burning. I don’t like talking in front of people. I reckon if I’m ever forced to choose between speaking in public and having my fingernails torn out with pliers, I’ll have to give both options some really serious thought.
‘I didn’t do much,’ I shrugged, hoping that would be enough to get me off the hook. Of course, it wasn’t.
‘You didn’t do much?’ Mr Preston smirked. He half sat, half leaned on his desk, both hands now in his pockets. ‘Surely you can give us a bit more to go on than that?’
My mind raced. What could I say to get this over and done with quickly? I had to be careful not to reveal anything about Christmas Day itself, but I had to tell him something.
‘I…met a friend. A girl friend. I mean not a…Just a friend. Who’s a girl.’
As one, the class erupted into a chorus of ‘Ooohs’.
‘Who was it, your gran?’ called a voice from the back of the class. I recognised it as Billy Gibb. I’d know those smug tones anywhere.
Billy had a lot of muscle, but not much going on between the ears. He’d been kept back for two years in primary school, and so was much older – and bigger – than anyone else in class. The first time he had been forced to repeat the year on account of having had too many days off. And then, two years after that, he’d been kept back again. On account of being thick.
‘Quieten down,’ Mr Preston warned, giving the entire class one of his glares. As silence fell, he turned back to me. ‘I’m not sure if I want to hear the details or not,’ he frowned, ‘but carry on.’
I hesitated, boxing off in my head all the things I didn’t dare reveal about Ameena, the girl who had saved my life. I realised quite quickly that what was left wasn’t very interesting at all.
‘Nothing to tell, really,’ I said. ‘Just met her at Christmas.’
‘Where’d you meet her?’ demanded one of the other boys sitting near Billy.
Another pause. Telling them she’d saved me from being strangled to death on my front doorstep wasn’t really an option, even if it was the truth.
Christmas Day felt more and more like some distant, half-remembered nightmare. It had been no dream, though. It had happened. All of it.
I was alone in the house when he’d appeared, crashing through the living-room window in a shower of broken glass. Mr Mumbles had been my childhood imaginary friend. He’d been my funny little buddy, accompanying me everywhere I went. As I grew up I forgot all about him. Turned out he wasn’t happy about that.
When he came back he was different. Bigger. Stronger. His body and face twisted and disfigured. This time round he wasn’t interested in being friends. He had one goal and one goal only.
Killing me.
He would’ve managed too, had it not been for Ameena. She had appeared like an avenging angel, charging out of the darkness, swinging wildly with a baseball bat. She drove him back, buying us time to get away.
She’d stayed with me for most of the day, helping me when no one else could. How many times did she save my life? Twice? Three times? I couldn’t even remember.
Without her I never would have beaten Mr Mumbles. I owed her everything – my life, Mum’s, Nan’s. We all would have died had it not been for Ameena.
But I couldn’t tell the class that.
‘Earth to Kyle. Earth to Kyle.’
I blinked back into the present. Mr Preston was standing there, waving a hand slowly in front of my face. I could feel all eyes in the room on me. Somewhere off to the left, someone let out a low snigger.
‘Just bumped into her outside my house,’ I said. ‘We…we hung out for a bit.’
‘What was her name then?’ asked someone else.
‘Ameena,’ I replied. My mouth was going dry. I felt like I was being interrogated by the Secret Service.
‘What kind of name’s that?’
‘A made-up one by the sounds of things,’ sneered Billy. He and his neighbour cackled and exchanged a high-five. I glanced up at Mr Preston imploringly, but he wasn’t ready to let me off the hook just yet.
‘And where is she now?’ he asked, the corners of his mouth twitching. ‘This new friend of yours?’
I was free to answer truthfully this time. ‘I don’t know. I didn’t see her again after that.’
Mr Preston took his hands out of his pockets and waved them as if he was conducting an orchestra. ‘Ready, everyone? One, two, three…’
On cue, the whole class joined together in one collective ‘Awwww!’
‘Fascinating stuff, Mr Alexander, truly fascinating,’ said Mr Preston sarcastically. ‘Now sit down, and please – for your sake as well as mine – don’t be late again.’
I shuffled sideways along the slow-moving line, holding my breath when I passed the soggy mound of cabbage that seemed to be crawling up and out of the plastic tub it lurked in.
Turkey burgers – I could hardly believe it. The first day back to school after the Christmas holidays and the canteen was serving turkey burgers. Someone somewhere had decided this was the perfect choice for the first-day-back menu. Incredible.
‘You not meeting your new bird for lunch then?’ I heard someone shout.