Tim

'My gun's really good. It's got special laser noises and
everything.'
Tim is crouching on the top of the steps, rocking backward and forward,
his knees like white bones are up round his ears. I can't say anything
back, my gun's rubbish. It only goes click, it doesn't even fire caps.
My Dad knew that when he got it, but he got it anyway. I wanted a gun
like Tim had a gun even if it was rubbish. But Tim always gets good
things like that. I always get the rubbish ones even though I know I'm
best. I know I can always beat him even when he wins. He won't believe
me, he just laughs and walks off.

Tim's running down the garden, I can see the prints left by his feet in
the grass. All the blades start standing up, moving then stopping,
until the footprints have gone. The sun's setting behind my house. It's
getting cold as well. We've played all day, all I want to do is go
inside and have some biscuits and play on the computer but I can't
because Tim wants to play tick.

It's not fair when we play tick because Tim always changes the rules. I
know he's cheating and I try to argue but there's always a reason. He
makes dens when I'm on and then stops them when he's on so I can't
escape. He even made up a rule so we were both on at the same time
once. I've still got the cut on my knee where I slid off the grass on
to the path and then Tim made me keep playing even though blood was
running down my leg and it hurt.

But Tim's really hard. He's seen lots of accidents with people dying
and everything with blood, and his Dad's a black belt in karate. Tim
likes talking about the fights his Dad does in karate. He says he's
seen him killing people. Tim says that's really good and he'll kill me
if I insult Tim. I don't believe him but I can't say anything because
Tim'll storm off and not say anything for ages like he did last
week.
'I saw a train crash yesterday,' Tim says, hanging upside down in my
tree. 'It was great. This guy had his head cut off and everything, and
there was blood and eyeballs on the floor.'

I don't think it was much fun for the guy who had his head cut off, but
I don't say anything because Tim's seen lots of accidents and I haven't
seen any. I watch the road all day but nothing happens. I saw a man
fall off a bike one day but Tim wasn't listening. He just kept talking
about how his Dad hit three burglars last night. He says words I don't
understand, and he never answers if I tell him anything, but if I don't
say anything when he's finished he gives me a dead arm. I don't hit him
back because he's my friend, even though I know I could beat him.
That's why he always wins our fights, because I don't want to hurt
him.

The sun has gone in now, and its getting darker and darker. There's a
wind as well, it's blowing through the trees and making the birds fly
out in a noise. Tim wants to play football now but I'm cold and the
grass is cold on my feet and I wish I had a jumper and jeans instead of
a T-shirt and shorts. My feet and knees are green as well and I know
I'll get done about that.

'Did you know you can see fights at football?' Tim asks. 'My Dad's
taking me to see the Vale on Saturday. Vale are the best.' He kicks the
ball against the kitchen wall even though I ask him not to.

I agree with him even though I don't like football and my feet are cold
and I don't care about the Vale. I wish my Dad would take me to the
football though, but he won't.

I tell Tim that it's time to go in, it's cold and dark. 'Yeah,' he
says. It's like I've put something heavy down. At last the day is over
and I can play on the computer and Tim won't be there to be always
better than me and tell me I'm crap and get onto levels I've never
seen. He likes the games with fights in, he says its like what his Dad
does, even though his Dad's really fat and the people in the games are
really thin. He say's the blood's the best bit.

I walk with Tim back to his house. He does judo kicks in the air. He
asks if I can do them. I can't because I haven't practised like him and
he laughs at me and tells me how to kick someone so his neck breaks.
It's night when I get back in my warm house with its nice lights.

I don't really think of Tim when it's night time. I like the TV and my
computer but tonight I keep thinking of his stories about accidents. I
don't know why he likes them, when there are accidents on TV people cry
sometimes.

It's still holiday in the morning. I eat my breakfast and say goodbye
and go to Tim's house. But he doesn't answer the door. It's his
Dad.
'Tim can't come out today.'
'Why not?'
'His uncle was killed in a car crash yesterday evening.' I swallow. I
wasn't expecting this. My knees shake and I look up at the big wide sad
face of his Dad. I can't think of anything to say. My eyes slip down
his fat front and stare at the floor. But then there's a step in the
hall, and I see Tim, with really red eyes and his face is wet. I can't
believe it. He always said he was too hard to cry.