Falling
Introduction by Keith Gray
Do you hate sitting with your back to an open door? Does it feel like someone's watching over your shoulder? Have you ever felt creeped-out by footsteps following you in the dark? Then this one's definitely going to make the hairs on the back of your neck prickle.
'I'm so pleased Anthony agreed to write a story for us, he's one of the most original and imaginative authors for young people working in the UK at the moment. Of course you don't just have to take my word for it, but have a look for yourself at his books Hellbent, the award-winning Henry Tumour, and his most recent novel, The Knife That Killed Me.
'Falling is a spooky and atmospheric story which brings an unsettling twist to the Virtual Writer in Residence theme of 'communication'. If you've ever received an anonymous text message, and been tempted to reply, read on... '
Falling by Anthony McGowan
1
‘It's easy as taking sweets off a baby.'
Iggy was close, confiding, needling, but also dangerous.
Nicko didn't want to do it. He didn't want to take sweets off a baby and he didn't want to steal the girl's mobile. But he wanted to be there with Iggy and his mates, messing about on the benches outside the café.
The café was called Café View, because it looked out over the gorge, and you could see the old iron bridge arching out over the chasm and into the mist like some dream in metal. Outside the café there was a paved area that stuck out over the river below. There was a telescope at the end of it, but nobody had used it since it had gone up from 20p to a pound.
It felt like the middle of nowhere, but if it weren't for the thick mist you could have seen the posh houses on the far side of the river, and heard the buzz from the town beyond. It seemed that the gorge was always dense with mist, even when the rest of the world was squinting into the sunlight. The tourists would come and moan, and take their photos and leave.
Of course the kids didn't call it Café View. They called it Café Death, or Café Jump, or Café Splat, because it was where the suicides would have their last tea or coffee or coke before they jumped from the bridge or the high granite cliffs that lined the gorge.
They were bunking off school, the five of them. They'd taken the bus up here. Nicko had known that they weren't just coming for the view, but he hadn't suspected that it was going to be his turn to do the deed.
‘That's the one,' Iggy had said, pointing to the girl sitting a little apart from the rest of her class. They were obviously on a school outing, happy, excited, laughing.
Nicko didn't know what school it was, but he could tell that it was posh. The girls had that look of blond perfection, that knowledge in their eyes that their lives were going to be easy, that they were going to get everything they wanted.
There were two teachers with them, but they were at another table. One fat, one thin, both looking bored. Perhaps they were once like the girls, full of confidence and life.
Iggy had picked her out because she was at the end and her bag was thrown over the back of her chair. But he was good at spotting loners, misfits, natural victims.
She wasn't like the others. She didn't have their smiling mouths, their laughing eyes. She was dark and small and quiet, and she looked down at her frothy cappuccino.
‘Just walk by, like you're going to the bog,' said Iggy.
Nicko got up, and then sat down again. The others laughed. Iggy cuffed him across the back of the head, knocking his glasses on to the floor. It looked like it was playful, but the slap hurt.
‘Just do it,' said Iggy, and now there was an unmistakable edge to his voice.
Nicko got up again. He felt as if the bones had been taken out of his legs. His breath came in wheezing little gasps, like a silvery roach pulled out of the canal and left to die on the bank.
He glanced back over his shoulder. The gang were all there, urging him on. Ahead he could hear the chatter and laughter from the group of posh girls.
He focused on the bag, with the mobile poking out.
Iggy was right. It was asking to be stolen.
For a second the dark-haired girl looked at him. Funny, but she seemed to be able to look down and up at the same time. It was only later, when he replayed it all in is head, that he realised that that's exactly what she was doing, her face was angled down, and she looked up through her long eyelashes at him.
He felt himself blush. He blushed because he was about to steal the girl's phone, but also because here was a girl looking at him, and being looked at by girls was not something Nicko was used to.
The girl's glance lasted only a second, but it was enough to make Nicko veer off towards the bogs without taking the phone. He didn't look back but he could imagine the expression on Iggy's face.
There was a hot stink in the bogs. He washed his hands at the sink and threw some water on his face. When he came out he saw that the posh girls were getting ready to go, picking up their bags, pulling their cardigans over their bums, the way girls always do when they stand up. It was now or never. Almost running, Nicko moved past the group. He kept his eyes on the bag so the dark-haired girl wouldn't distract him.
And then he was through them and walking towards the gang, with the phone in his hand. He looked up at Iggy, who was signing something to him, moving his hand to his pocket.
Yeah, of course, put the phone away.
He reached his friends.
‘Let's move,' said Iggy, and soon they were all tearing away down the hill towards the bus stop. They were still gasping, exultant when the bus came, and they piled upstairs together.
‘Fantastic,' said Iggy. ‘I thought you were going to bottle it. Brilliant the way you waited till they were all getting ready to leave. Let's have a look.'
Nicko handed him the phone.
‘It's crap,' said Iggy, without emotion. ‘We'll get nothing for this. Doesn't matter, though. You showed you had what it takes. You're one of us now. You're in.'
He opened the window and stuck out his hand.
‘Wait,' said Nicko, and put his hand on Iggy's arm. Iggy stared at him, hard. People didn't touch Iggy.
‘I haven't got a phone,' Nicko said, quickly. ‘I can get it chipped so it'll work.'
Iggy waited a second, then threw the phone on Nicko's lap.
‘Keep it, if you want it,' he said. ‘But I wouldn't wipe my arse on it.'
At the Café View the girls had gone, but over the back of one chair, a bag still hung.
