Joe

I slept OK last night. I didn’t think I was going to. I felt on edge all evening, even though we got rid of the money. It was like there was too much adrenalin in my body. I was jumpy as hell. I couldn’t stop thinking. I was expecting the guy who wanted the bag to turn up at any minute and come crashing through my door. I kept thinking about the text message. But I guess I tired myself out thinking about it all cos when my head hit the pillow I must’ve gone straight to sleep.

The first thing I do after I’ve woken up is go and switch my computer on and check the news. Cos I have to set my mind at rest, I have to know that no one’s taken the bag to the police or anything like that. I try the local news first. And there’s nothing there about the bag, or the car, or the body. Just the story from yesterday morning. I try a couple of other sites as well – a couple of national newspapers. But there’s no mention of it at all.

I switch my computer off and sigh. I feel better in a way. I mean, at least there isn’t a story saying that the bag’s been handed in and they’re running forensic tests on it or anything. But I still have a weird feeling. I still don’t feel at ease. I feel edgy, nervous. But I’m sure it won’t last. The last couple of days have scared me.

After breakfast, I get my bag and stuff together and go downstairs. Out the front door and up the road. The sun’s out, though it’s not that warm. I’m the first one at the bus stop. I stand at the edge of the pavement and look down, at the gravel that’s come off someone’s drive. I kick it over the edge of the pavement into a drain. Each stone disappears with a tiny plop.

Gradually more and more people turn up at the bus stop. No sign of Ash, though. To be honest, I’m not that bothered after yesterday. I’d quite happily not see him today. But just before the bus is due to arrive, he comes walking slowly down the road. His school shirt is untucked and he’s got a big pair of white trainers on. His hair’s all over the place, like mine usually is. He looks at me as he gets near to the stop and nods his head in greeting. He doesn’t smile. He barges a couple of Year Eights out of the way instead of walking around them.

‘You all right, Ash?’ I say.

He nods his head. ‘Yeah,’ he says kind of defensively. ‘Why shouldn’t I be all right?’

It takes me sort of by surprise. What’s he got to be angry about? ‘I didn’t mean it like that,’ I start, but I don’t bother finishing my sentence. He’s already looking away. Besides, surely he should be the one apologising to me.

The bus pulls up at the stop a few metres from where me and Ash are standing. He barges straight through the queue. ‘Get out the way, munchkins,’ he says. ‘Year Elevens coming through.’

I follow behind him. We’re on first. We go right to the back of the bus and sit down.

‘You got a note for yesterday?’ I say, as all the other kids get on the bus.

He looks at me like I’m being a div, like, ‘Why on earth would you need a sick note for missing a day of school?’ He shakes his head.

‘Suit yourself, then,’ I say. ‘I typed one on the computer and forged my mum’s signature.’

Ash just shrugs. ‘Who cares?’ he says. ‘We’re leaving school tomorrow anyway. What can they do?’ He looks out of the window and ignores me the rest of the way to school. Which is fine by me.