Hero

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Grizzly opened his gate. That little white dog came right over and stood next to my bike, looking up, like he was ready and he knew what we had to do. Grizzly turned and shuffled back towards the open front door.

“Door’ll be on the latch, so just drop him off when you’re done.” He leaned on the porch and looked back over his stiff shoulder. “Take good care of him,” he said, but I wasn’t entirely sure that he was talking to me. “And don’t be going down the Rec just now.”

I didn’t know why he said that. I guessed it was to do with Jack Pepper being used to walking around the block and not in the open fields.

There’s something about dogs which isn’t like people at all. The way they’re kind of ready and willing. Straight away I knew Jack Pepper didn’t think that pretending to be a gladiator was a waste of time.

“There’s a bear, Jack,” I whispered. “He’s here somewhere, waiting to ambush us.”

I pushed up on my pedals, felt my bike as if it was part of me, twisting and turning and speeding up, Jack running alongside.

“You’re gonna have to be quick and not go too near. Just do what I say, stick close and you’ll be fine.”

Jack Pepper joined in, leaping beside me, ears twitching as if he was listening out for the bear. We were like a couple of soldiers, advancing in formation, and I didn’t have to ask him, he just moved like my shadow.

We approached the bear, growling, huffing and breathing his hot, bitter breath into the frosty evening.

“That way, Jack!” I said. We separated. Jack distracted the bear, dancing around him, barking and yipping until we’d cornered him outside Mrs Pardoe’s house and roared at the beast until he lay down and rolled over for us.

Jack sat beside me in the glow of the street light and gazed up like he could see what I could see.

The winners! Jupiter bellowed and punched his mighty thumb to the sky. All arms went up; everyone cheered my name. Le-o! Le-o! Le-o!

“Bow, Jack, bow!” I said. “They love us.” Jack wagged his tail. “Look at us,” I said grinning down at him. “We’re heroes.”

When I looked up again, Jupiter had reached down and touched the head of the statue of the lion by his throne. I saw the lion shake the dust from its fur. I saw it open its mouth, come to life and roar.

I took Jack back to Grizzly’s and opened the door for him. He went in but stopped and looked over his shoulder at me, like he didn’t want to go home just yet. I heard him whine when I closed the door, but there was somewhere else I had to be.

Warren and all his mates waited in the shadow of the ragged flint and moss of the ancient Roman wall along the edge of the Rec. Warren walked out from amongst them, slow and easy. There was a lot of whispering which for some reason sounded louder in the dark, with only the moon and stars and a couple of street lights making yellowy circles around us.

“Wasn’t sure you’d come,” Warren said. He sighed. “Thing is, some of us still aren’t sure you’ve got what it takes to hang out with us. You’re going to have to prove yourself first.

“I thought I already had,” I said.

“You have to do something … to prove you’re one of us,” he said. The boys parted, showed what they had for me. “You have to push it down the field and send it into the pond.”

I looked at the old granny mobility scooter that they’d found and it bothered me.

“Whose is it?” I said.

“It was abandoned out the back of the chemist’s,” Warren said. “We took it, hid it and waited ’til dark, waited for someone like you.”

“Why do I have to do it?” I said.

“We have to be sure you’re on our side,” Warren said.

“It doesn’t work then? It’s not somebody’s?”

“It’s useless. We’re doing everyone a favour by getting rid of it, cleaning up the town.” There was a ripple of laughter, but Warren silenced the others. He paced up and down. “Fame,” he said. “They say it’s a fifteen minute thing.” He draped his arm over my shoulders. His armpit was a bit rank. “But you want more than that, don’t you, Leo? You’re proving that you’ve got what it takes to be one of us.”

I wasn’t going to be a gladiator in the real world, not when the nearest we have are boxers and wrestlers. I wanted to be like a gladiator though. I wanted other people to think I was fierce, brave, strong and worthwhile. Which was entirely different.

I dropped my bike. Took an uneasy breath. Walked over to the scooter. They couldn’t see what I could see: me, the victor, and the abandoned chariot of a defeated gladiator.

“Le-o!” they chanted again.

The moon made a shimmering target on the dark pond, like a trap door in the amphitheatre where all the destruction, the losers, the broken and defeated things go. I pushed hard against the mobility scooter and ran with it, down the slope, and let it go. The scooter tipped over into the pond. It bubbled and sank, disappeared into the black depths. I punched the air. They laughed, roared and cheered my name. It made my teeth tingle. This was being a gladiator for real.

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School for the next few days was completely different. Fist bumping all over the place, back patting, sitting on the back row, being one of Warren’s mates while George was still off school. I was famous now. People I hardly even knew were asking me to take out their teacher!

I was following Warren and his mates to our corner (our corner!) of the playing field at break time when Beatrix Jones caught my sleeve. She stood in front of me, narrowed her eyes and asked, “Why’s George not here?”

“He’s sick,” I said.

“Hmm,” she scowled. “Sick of what?”

I shrugged. I didn’t know what she meant.

“I’m surprised,” she said.

I hesitated. “He’s got flu. Why’s that surprising?”

“Not about George, about you.”

I guessed it was a compliment, that she was surprised I’d done something people noticed and was now one of the popular kids.

“Thanks,” I said.

She huffed. “I mean surprised you’ve been fooled by Miller, idiot!”

Beatrix Jones was weird, so I didn’t listen.

I went to catch up with Warren which was when I overheard him saying to Josh to spread the word that they were meeting at the Rec again on Friday after school. The message didn’t exactly get given to me, but I didn’t have anywhere else I wanted to be. The thing is, once you’ve tasted fame, you just can’t get enough of it. You know when you’ve eaten half a bag of crisps and you’re saving the rest for later, but you go back to the kitchen to finish them after only a few minutes of waiting, plus you get a piece of cold chicken from the fridge and maybe some cheese? That’s what fame feels like. A feast.

So, on Friday, I went.

Warren was leading the others across the field, all of them on glossy newish bikes. Warren looked down at my bike, at the torn seat, the clunking gears, the tyres worn smooth. Then I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t exactly invited this time. My bike was half the size of his and everyone else’s, and the brakes had just about had it. “Hey,” I said. “What are you all doing?”

Warren grinned.

“We’ve got business in town. Private business. Maybe see you some other time.”

“Yeah, sure, I was just, you know …” but he wasn’t listening.

Warren’s knees bent, he yanked up the front of his bike and they cycled past while I cringed inside. My cheeks flamed. I kept my back turned. Why had things changed so quickly?

Behind me I heard barking. It was Jack Pepper, darting about in front of Warren’s bike. What was he doing here? Warren twisted and put his foot down quick, but Jack ran away. He tore past me, turned and raced back, straight towards me. He stopped, looked up. I didn’t know what he was doing there or asking me to do.