DANGER! notices were all over the building. It was all boarded up to stop anyone from getting inside. Was I seeing things? Had they come from inside, or were they just passing by? Why couldn’t there be an action replay?
“Wake up, grandpa!” I heard Jack shout. “Just because you scored a goal doesn’t mean you can go to sleep.”
Someone flew past me with the ball. I didn’t know whether he was from my team or theirs. I stuck out a foot anyway, and Ollie crashed to the ground.
“What d’ya do that for?” he cried.
“Sorry,” I muttered. I pulled him up and watched as he inspected the graze on his elbow.
“Nice one,” said Jack. “You’re supposed to tackle the opposition, not your own team.”
“Sorry,” I said again.
I tried to forget about Wills and what he might have been up to. I tried to make myself believe that it wasn’t my problem. But the notices said DANGER!, and Wills was my brother—a danger to himself, Mom sometimes said. It was like all the freedom of running and not caring had been punched out of me.
“I’ve got to go home now,” I called to Jack the next time the ball went off for a goal kick.
“You’re such a pain,” he said. “We’ll be one short again.”
“I promised Mom,” I said feebly.
“You’re no fun sometimes,” he yelled at me. I felt the sting of it because I knew he was right.
I took as long as I could walking home. It was late afternoon and the stores were just closing. Everyone rushed past on their way to start their weekend, nudging, shoving, elbowing me as they went. I wanted to shout “I’m here too!” because when you’re only eleven and five feet nothing, nobody seems to notice you, and if they do notice you they still shove past as though you don’t count.
I wasn’t in a hurry to start my weekend. It was a Dad weekend, which meant it was a no-escape-from-Wills weekend. I wanted to see Dad because I missed him all the time, but with Wills there as well, in the cramped little rooms, it annoyed me even more than being at home. I wondered if I could go to Dad’s on alternate weekends from Wills, but how could I ask to do that?
I was just turning the corner at the end of our street when I heard feet pounding up behind me.
“Wait for me, bro.”
Wills caught up with me. He threw his arm around my shoulder and bent over double, coughing and heaving as if he had just run a marathon.
“Oh man,” he spluttered. “I think I might be sick.”
“Serves you right for smoking,” I said, smelling it on his clothes and walking on.
“Where’ve you been?” he asked.
“Scrap yard,” I said. I watched for his reaction.
“Scrap yard? Doing what?”
“Playing soccer. I saw you there.” I watched again.
“Me?” he snorted. “Nah, you’re imagining things. I haven’t been near that dump.”
“I saw you come out of that derelict building,” I persisted. “I know it was you, I recognized your clothes.”
“I’m not the only one with these clothes. Anyway, that building’s dangerous. Why would I go in there?”
“Why would you do half the stupid things you do?”
He grabbed my elbow. “Don’t you dare tell Mom I was in there, cuz I’ll tell her you’re a big fat liar.”
“If you want to kill yourself, it’s up to you. It would do us all a big favor.”
I pulled my elbow out of his grasp and started to stride away from him. He ran to catch up to me. As he tried to take hold of me again, something clattered to the ground. It was a knife. Wills snatched it up and put it in his pocket.
“Where did you get that from?” I hissed.
“Found it,” he said.
“Where?”
“Just somewhere.”
“What are you going to do with it?”
“I’m going to throw it away so that nobody can get hurt with it.”
He marched up the road, turned on to our front path, opened the trash can, and threw the knife into it. He let the lid fall with an enormous clatter and snarled at me. “Satisfied?”
I followed him as he stomped into the house and through to the kitchen, where Mom was getting dinner ready. Wills didn’t even say hello to her, just opened a cupboard, grabbed a packet of cookies, disappeared up to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him, music on LOUD.
“Hi, Mom,” I said.
“What’s wrong with Wills?” she asked.
“Everything, as usual,” I growled. “Mom, can I stay with you this weekend? I don’t want to go to Dad’s.”
“Why not?” Mom stopped what she was doing and stared at me.
“It’s so small there, Mom. It’s like we’re all on top of each other,” I said. It’s like Wills is on top of me, crushing the life out of me, I thought.
“But your father will be really upset if you don’t go,” said Mom.
“It’s only one weekend,” I argued.
“If you don’t go, then Wills won’t be able to go,” Mom sighed. “Your father can’t cope with him on his own. He relies on you to help keep the peace.”
It felt like something exploded in my head then.
“I’m fed up with being relied on,” I shouted. “I don’t want to be relied on. I want to be able to have fun and do normal boy things and get into trouble sometimes and not worry that I’m just making everything worse. Like I am now, because now I’m being a problem just as much as Wills.”
I stormed out of the kitchen and ran up to my room, slamming the door just like Wills. Then I began to cry like a big baby
