“So you’re out again! Who’d have thought it? The Goldfish Boy seen out twice in public!”
Jake grinned from ear to ear like some manic Cheshire Cat as he stood astride his bike at the top of our road. In the distance I could see Old Nina just closing her front door behind her.
“What did you call me?” I took a step toward him and he held his hands up.
“Whoa! All right, freak! No need to have a fit.”
I tried to walk around him but he rolled his bike back, blocking my way like he’d done in the alleyway.
“What’s with the gloves?” he said.
“None of your business,” I said as I put my hands in my pockets.
Jake scratched at the back of his neck and a red mark appeared where he’d broken the skin and drawn blood. He studied his fingernails and I darted around him.
“So, you do think it’s Old Nina after all then?”
I stopped and turned to him.
“What?”
He looked smug.
“I saw Melody trying to see into Old Nina’s yard earlier. Is it to do with that thing in her tree?”
I didn’t say anything.
He wiped his nose with the back of his hand.
“Anyway, I don’t know why you’re bothering. The kid’s clearly dead. You and Melody are wasting your time if you ask me.”
“You have no idea what’s happened to Teddy Dawson, Jake.”
Two plainclothes policemen were talking in front of Mr. Charles’s house, and they both looked up at us for a moment and then carried on with their conversation.
“No I don’t,” said Jake. “But maybe you do, eh? Maybe you know where he went, Goldfish Boy?”
My throat tightened.
“Don’t call me that.”
Jake laughed.
“Ah, come on. Everyone is saying it! It was that little kid next door to you who started it. Teddy’s sister. Mum told me she’d called you that when she was there phoning the police. She said, ‘The Goldfish Boy probably knows where he went.’”
I swallowed.
“So, what did you see from that window of yours then, hey?”
I blinked away the tears.
“Stop it.”
Jake laughed again, his head up high.
“You should be pleased—you’re famous!”
He adopted a news anchor’s voice.
“The Goldfish Boy was the last person to see Teddy Dawson alive. How exactly does that make him feel?”
He waved an invisible microphone at me and I took a step to the side. I felt like I was gasping for air. I swallowed and swallowed again.
“He’s not dead!” I shouted and my voice echoed down the street. One of the policemen stretched his neck to watch us.
“Look, I’m sorry to burst your fluffy little bubble, but if a kid goes missing and a few days later they find blood on his blanket, then it’s not exactly going to end happily ever after, is it? Life’s tough. Deal with it.”
He rolled his bike back and adjusted his pedal to leave. My legs were trembling.
“He scratched his arm. That’s why there was blood on his blanket,” I said.
Jake turned back.
“How do you know?”
“Well, you said it yourself. I was the last person to see him al—to see him. He was playing in the front garden and he scratched his arm on a thorn and blood got onto his blanket. That answer your question?”
He did a kind of shrug.
“Melody didn’t even try to get the thing out of the tree, you know. She just stared at it over the fence. I can help if you want. With this investigating you’re trying to do?”
I laughed.
“You? Help? When have you ever wanted to help anyone besides yourself?”
His face fell, and then he let me have it.
“Me?! You should talk! I didn’t see you trying to help me when everyone said my eczema was infectious! Or when Mr. Jenkins called me a loser all those times. I didn’t see you sitting next to me when no one else dared. Where were you, eh? Where were you, friend?” He said friend sarcastically, eyes shiny with tears that he quickly blinked away.
I opened my mouth to say something, but he held up his hand.
“You know what, Matthew? Forget it. I wouldn’t want a friend like you anyway.”
He was speaking the truth and it hurt. He pushed his pedal up with the top of his foot and cycled away.
The policemen outside number eleven had gone indoors and Gordon was just coming out of number one with a large box in his arms. He crossed the road and walked toward our house. That was all I needed. I just wanted to get home.
I followed him up our path and stood behind him as he rang our doorbell, trying to find the space to slip past. The box was covered with the Harrington’s Household Solutions logo: Mum must have been ordering from Penny again. Tucked awkwardly under one arm was the latest catalog, which dropped onto our step.
“Could you pick that up for me, son?” he said, without saying hello. I stared down at the open pages. A man with a tanned face holding a silver cocktail shaker in one hand smiled up at me. He looked like the happiest man on earth.
“Matthew? The catalog?”
I reached down and picked it up using my finger and thumb, not caring he’d see my gloves. Dad opened the door.
“Ah, Gordon. Wonderful. Thanks for bringing it over,” he said, taking the box and leaning against the doorframe. I stepped to one side to try and get around, but the entrance was completely blocked now.
“No problem, Brian. No problem at all. Sorry it’s late. Penny’s a bit behind with the orders, you know, what with …” He wiped the top of his balding head with his palm as he nodded toward Mr. Charles’s house.
“Well, if she needs Sheila to help, just say.”
“Thanks, Brian. And let me know if you need a hand with this.” He tapped his fingers on the top of the cardboard box.
“I hate decorating, but I can’t keep putting it off. Sheila won’t let me anyway!”
Dad shook the box in his arms and gave a little laugh. I jiggled around on the step. I just wanted to get in and straight into the shower to wash all the disease away.
“Excuse me,” I said and I made a dash for it, brushing against Gordon’s arm and crashing into the box in Dad’s arms. I threw the catalog onto the stairs.
“Matthew, be careful!” said Dad, stumbling. “Sorry about that, Gordon.”
“No problem. Anyway, I’d better be off. You know … back to Penny, indoors,” said Gordon, nodding toward his own house now.
“Thank you, Gordon. And remember, if Penny needs a hand, just say, okay?”
He pushed the front door closed with his foot and carried the box to the conservatory while I kicked off my shoes.
“Matthew. I need to talk to you about your room,” he said, but I was already upstairs, heading for the shower.