All the Things That Could Go Wrong

by Stewart Foster

  I think about tomorrow. There must be some way out of it. Maybe I should say I’d rather spend time with Lizzie. I could offer to help her on LittleBigPlanet because she’s been stuck on Pluto for ages. Or I could pretend to have a cold, but Mum won’t fall for that. She’ll just say I should get out in the fresh air.

  Ah! This was supposed to be the best night, but it’s turned into the worst.

  I sniff. Then sniff again. There’s a horrible smell coming up from the floor.

  It’s dog poo.

  It can’t be.

  It’s dog poo.

  I lean forward, turn my foot, but I can’t see my shoe in the dark.

  I sniff again.

  It’s definitely dog poo.

  It’s not. Dogs don’t go to the cinema.

  I trod in it in the car park.

  They don’t go there either.

  I shuffle in my seat. Cold sweat drips down my neck.

  Dad leans forward and whispers, ‘Alex, what’s up?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Then why are you rocking the seats?’

  ‘Sorry.’

  I look down into the dark.’ I can smell dog poo.’

  Dad sniffs. ‘Alex, there’s nothing there. Maybe it’s someone’s hot dog … Or that guy’s popcorn.’ He points to a man eating at the end of our row. The smell doesn’t smell like popcorn, but maybe Dad’s right because things always smell weird at the cinema.

  I take a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  The room goes even darker and I read the writing on the screen – A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away …

  Dad leans over. ‘You okay?’

  I nod but I don’t really mean it. There’s a weird smell coming from my feet and somewhere behind me Dan is sitting in the dark, thinking bad things about me and aiming sweets and spit at the back of my head. I glance over my shoulder, but all I can see are silhouettes of heads. I turn and face the front – Star Wars, The Force Awakens lights up in massive writing on the screen.

  It’s dog poo.

  It’s not. It’s not.

  Dan’s going to spit at me.

  He’s miles back. He can’t reach from there.

  Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

  The words roll away from me on the screen – Luke Skywalker has vanished. In his absence, the sinister FIRST ORDER has risen from the ashes of the Empire and will not rest until Skywalker, the last Jedi, has been destroyed—

  Dad nudges my arm and I see him smile in the dark. I make myself smile back. I’ve waited for ages to see The Force Awakens, but now Dan is here I wish I’d gone to see Kung Fu Panda 3 instead.

  Dan: What Mum just did!

  I’m in my bedroom playing Call of Duty on my Xbox. Mum and Dad are downstairs watching TV. I can’t believe what Mum just did at the cinema. She kept on about it in the car all the way home. Alex looks like a nice boy. Alex has got such pale skin it’ll be lovely for him to get out. Alex this, Alex that. I just sat in the back, getting really mad. The only place Shark Face should go is in the sea.

  I put the controller down. I need to tell Ben. I pick up my pen.

  Friday

  Dear Ben

  Mum is so embarrassing. I just went to see The Force Awakens with her this evening. It was great but not as good as when I saw it with you before Christmas. I kept thinking about when you poured Coke down the boy’s neck who was sitting in front of us. This time I had to drink the Coke because Mum was right next to me. We got popcorn too and sat right at the back. She was really embarrassing because she kept going AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW! every time BB-8 rolled across the screen.

  But this is the bad bit. We bumped into a weird kid from school and Mum invited him to the cave to help with Shooting Star. He’s totally weird. He wears gloves all the time and washes his hands lots. I tried to get out of it. I don’t need help. Especially not HIS!

  He’s a weirdo!

  But don’t worry. I won’t let him touch anything. He probably won’t turn up anyway.

  Hope not.

  I stop writing. I’m still mad, but I feel better for telling Ben. I reach up onto my bedside table and reread his last letter. I pick up my pen again. I’ve forgotten to tell him about the Observation Tower. The workmen have been building it for months on the seafront. They’ve blocked the site off with fencing and boards, but when I look through the gap there’s a huge crane and cement mixers and trucks inside. They’d just finished building the concrete column when Ben last saw it. I try to tell him what it looks like now, but it’s easier to draw.

  The Observation Tower looks like this.

  My drawing isn’t very good. It looks like a spaceship. It’s going to be ready next week during the holidays. I’m going on it with Sophie and the Georges, but I’ll go on it again when you come home.

  Love Dan

  Alex: What’s wrong with me?

  ‘Alex! … Alex!’

  Mum walks up the stairs and knocks on my bedroom door. We’ve just got back from the cinema and I’m in my bedroom, curled up on my bed. The Force Awakens was brilliant, but when Finn was fighting Kylo Ren at the end I kept thinking that will be Dan and me tomorrow. The only difference is I won’t have a lightsaber to fight him off with.

  ‘Alex.’ Mum knocks again.

  I have to do something to get out of building the raft. I lean forward and wrap my arms round my belly.

  Mum pushes the door open. ‘Didn’t you hear … Hey, what’s wrong?’

  ‘My stomach hurts,’ I say, in a fake, ill voice.

  ‘Maybe you had too many sweets at the cinema.’

  ‘I didn’t have any,’ I say.

  ‘Then maybe you’re hungry. Did you want to make yourself some toast?’

  ‘No, I’m not hungry.’

  Mum looks at me with a concerned expression on her face like she does when I’m ill for real. I feel guilty for making her worry, but I can’t go tomorrow.

  ‘What do you think it is then?’

  ‘I don’t know, but it’s getting worse.’

  Mum sits on my bed. ‘Show me where it hurts.’

  ‘Just there.’ I point to my left side, just below my belt.

  Mum reaches out. I wrap my arms round myself again.

  ‘I just want to look, Alex. It could be appendicitis.’

  Appendicitis. Appendicitis!

  ‘Sonia at work said her son had it. It can be serious.’

  ‘How serious? Mum, how serious?’

  ‘Don’t panic, it probably isn’t. Just show me again. You said on your left side.’

  ‘Well, it was, but it … it moves around.’

  ‘I’ll check on the internet.’ She stands up and goes towards the door. ‘Just stay there.’

  ‘Will you do C-3PO now?’

  I lift my head and see Lizzie standing outside my room with a PlayStation controller in one hand and a model of C-3PO in the other. I look at my windowsill.

  ‘Give it back.’

  ‘Only if you do it.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then I won’t let you have it,’ she says.

  She’s so irritating, but if I don’t do it she won’t leave.

  ‘Just once.’

  ‘Okay.’

  I make my body stiff and put on my C-3PO voice. ‘Don’t blame me. I’m an interpreter. I’m not supposed to know a power socket from a computer terminal.’

  Lizzie laughs. ‘Do it again.’

  ‘No. Just let me have it back.’ I hold out my hand.

  ‘Pig.’ Lizzie throws C-3PO onto my bed. ‘What’s wrong with you anyway?’

  I’ve got appendicitis!! I was faking, but what if it has turned into appendicitis?

  ‘I don’t know. Mum’s just going to look.’

  Lizzie slowly walks into my bedroom like she thinks whatever I’ve got is catching. She points at the end of my bed.

  ‘Can I sit here?’

  She’s had a shower and Mum has just got her clean pyjamas out of the airing cupboard.

  I
nod. She sits down and fiddles with the PlayStation controller like she’s hinting for me to help her.

  ‘I can’t do it now,’ I say. ‘But maybe I can after tomorrow.’

  ‘Is that why you’re ill? Because you’ve got to meet that boy tomorrow.’

  ‘What? No! I’m just not feeling very well.’

  ‘Because I think he’s nice.’

  ‘It’s not that.’

  ‘It’s okay. I felt like you do when I went to Jessica Burns’s party … But it went when I had a poo.’

  I scrunch my face. ‘I don’t think this is the same.’

  Mum comes back in. ‘I think it’s okay,’ she says. ‘Your appendix is on the other side.’

  Phew!

  ‘Maybe just lie down and read for a while – you’ve a busy afternoon tomorrow – and don’t forget you’re seeing Dr Patrick first thing. I’m sure he’ll help you feel better.’

  Mum walks out of the room and I lay back on my bed. A pain shoots through my stomach for real. Mum doesn’t understand. Dr Patrick doesn’t take bullies away or stomach ache. He just tries to work out what’s in my head and right now my worry is that I don’t want to see Dan tomorrow. If he’s horrible at school when there are loads of people around, he’ll be even worse when we’re on our own. What was Dad thinking? He knows I hate going outside. After the film finished, I told him I’d rather spend the afternoon with him and so would Lizzie, and that he could take us to Pizza Hut. But he said we could do that another time and then shot off to work.

  I can’t go and build the raft. It’ll be horrible. I close my eyes and my head sinks into my pillow. This was supposed to have been the best day, but it’s turned into the worst.

  Dan: Blue lights

  I’m riding my bike along the seafront. The cave is only a mile from my house so Mum says I can ride as long as I keep to the cycle path and text her when I leave to come home. But I don’t because she’s always texting me anyway. As I ride, the wind blows across the sea so hard it’s almost knocking me sideways.

  I stop by the Observation Tower construction site and peer through the gap in the boarding. Inside are yellow dumper trucks and the massive crane and hut where the workmen go to eat and look at the plans. There’s no workmen here today, just two security guards wearing white hats, walking across concrete and dust. They look in my direction like they think I’m going to break in. I put my feet on the pedals and cycle on, past the old pier. It caught fire years ago and now all that’s left is the metal sticking out of the water, like burnt fingers.

  I can’t wait to get to the cave and start work on Shooting Star, but I wish Shark Face wasn’t coming. All he’ll do is get in the way. At least he’s not coming until this afternoon so I’ve got all morning by myself.

  I pass Al’s Pizzas, then the new pier with the slot machines and rollercoaster at the end where me and Ben used to go. Then I ride past the Big Wheel then down a slope towards the beach where the caves begin. They’re deep dark holes cut into the rock and a road runs above them like a railway line over caverns. Some people use the caves as cafes and art galleries, but the ones past the pier are used to store things like fishing nets and buoys and motors for boats. The cave I use belongs to Mr Kendall. He owns an ice-cream kiosk and uses the cave to store the deckchairs and umbrellas he rents out in the summer.

  Ben used to work for Mr Kendall. He had a key to the cave so he could set the deckchairs out on the beach early in the morning, and then during the day we were allowed to work on the raft. But that was before Ben started to hang out with his new friends.

  I get the padlock key out of my pocket. I undo the lock and pull the doors open. The cave is dark and smells fishy like the sea. I search for a switch on the rock wall and the bulb hanging in the middle of the cave flickers on. Shooting Star is underneath it. She’s raised off the ground on tyres and covered in a tarpaulin to keep her dry.

  I step over the empty plastic bottles I collected from the bins last week. Everything is just like I left it. Old fishing nets and buoys are piled up in a corner and there’s an old blackboard where I pin Ben’s drawing of Shooting Star so I can keep track of what I’m doing. I get the tube out of my bag, unroll the drawing and pin it on the board.

  I reach out and trace my finger over the lines. Ben said I need to make the frame first. It’s made of twelve pieces of wood, six underneath and six on top criss-crossing each other like a potato waffle. I pick up a piece of chalk and draw it on the blackboard. Then I draw two stick men on top for me and Ben.

  I stand back and look at the pictures. There’s no way I’m going to let Shark Face help. This is mine and Ben’s. I don’t care if his mum did text my mum last night. She said Shark Face was looking forward to coming down this afternoon. But there’s no way I’m going to have that twerp hanging around.

  The light flickers as a bus rumbles along the road above my head. I pull the tarp off Shooting Star and take a deep breath. She looks nothing like Ben’s diagram. All there is are four planks of wood resting on the tyres that me and Ben tied together in a square frame. The rest is just a pile of wood and bottles on the floor. I was here all last weekend, but it looks like I’ve not started. I need to go a lot faster if it’s going to be ready for when Ben comes home in six weeks. I look at the diagram again. I’ve got to tie four more planks across and then I’ve finished the row. I bend down, pick up a plank of wood then slide it across the frame. It slips off and bangs on the floor.

  I pick up the plank and try again. This is what happened all last weekend. It’s useless without Ben to help me. I drop the plank of wood and aim a kick at it.

  ‘Stupid raft!’ The plank knocks some bottles that roll across the floor like skittles.

  ‘Hey, everything okay?’

  I jump and look up. Mr Kendall is standing at the cave entrance, with a cigarette in his hand.

  ‘Yes.’ I bend down and pick up the plank again.

  ‘Doesn’t look like it. Here, let me help.’ He puts his cigarette in his mouth and grabs the other end.

  ‘No you can’t. I want to do it on my own.’

  Mr Kendall puts the plank down and blows smoke out of his mouth.

  ‘Well, you’re not doing much of a job of it.’

  ‘I’m okay.’

  ‘You’re just like your brother. He always wanted to do things on his own.’

  ‘Good,’ I say. I pick up the plank to show him I can do it by myself.

  Mr Kendall makes an mmm sound. ‘Well, that’s all very well, but watch you don’t make the same mistake as he did. Silly lad.’

  ‘It wasn’t his fault. And don’t call him silly.’ Anger bubbles inside me, makes my hands ball into fists.

  Mr Kendall chuckles. ‘Hey, calm down!’ He takes another puff of his cigarette. ‘I see you’ve got his temper too. Anyway, I only came in here for a new pole for a parasol.’ He walks towards the back of the cave.

  I sit down and try to untangle an old fishing net to make rope. Mr Kendall is just like my granddad. Old and grumpy and always saying bad things about Ben – Ben’s silly. Ben’s gone off the rails. Ben should be made to join the army to give him some discipline. But my brother isn’t silly, and he hasn’t gone off the rails. He’s just somewhere else. He’s somewhere else and I wish he was here.

  Mr Kendall walks past me with the parasol pole tucked under his arm. I focus on unpicking the fishing net and pretend he’s not there. He stops at the cave entrance, turns round and looks at me like he knows he’s upset me.

  ‘Listen,’ he sighs. ‘Don’t get me wrong, he’s a lovely lad and all, but he should know the difference between right and wrong. We make our own fortunes.’

  I untie a knot. I don’t know what he means. Ben knows the difference between right and wrong. He didn’t do anything really bad, not on purpose, he was just unlucky, like I am when I get caught messing around. I want to tell Mr Kendall all of this, but I don’t want to annoy him, because when Ben comes back I want him to still have a job.

  ‘So
are we okay?’

  I nod. ‘Suppose.’

  Mr Kendall smiles. ‘Just tell him to hurry back,’ he says. ‘I’m getting too old for all this. Oh, and remember, if ever you forget your key, there’s one under the—’ He stops talking. Above us a police siren blares along the road. Mr Kendall looks up like he can see the police car through the rock. ‘Someone’s in trouble,’ he says.

  The siren gets louder as the car gets closer. I imagine the cars and buses stopping to let it pass and the blue lights flashing along the seafront. Flash, flash. Flash, flash, then silence. Just like the night the police came for Ben. I was in my bedroom and I could see the lights flashing in the windows of the houses across the street. Then I heard the doorbell and the deep voices of policemen talking in our hall. I thought maybe Dad had had an accident or there’d been a burglary in our road. But then the policemen went into the lounge with Mum, Dad and Ben, and they closed the door.

  I look out of the cave as Mr Kendall shuffles away. I don’t want to think about the night the police took Ben away. I want to think about the day he comes back in six weeks’ time. I stand up and pick up a plank. I don’t care how hard building Shooting Star is. I just need to get it done.

  Alex: The man inside my head

  It’s Saturday morning at the clinic and I’m so tired I’m falling asleep in the waiting-room chair. I pretended I had stomach ache, but then my worries took over and tumbled round and round in my head all night: Everybody is going to die. I’ve got to meet Dan. I’m turning into Justin Bieber. The spit is still in my hair, germs on my hands. I’m going bald. I’ve got to meet Dan. I’ve got to meet Dan. I’ve got—

  ‘Alex!’

  I jump awake.

  ‘Come in.’ Dr Patrick holds his hand out like he’s showing me where to go, but I’ve been here so many times I could find my way in the dark. I walk past him and sit down in a red chair by a big window. Dr Patrick sits opposite me.

  ‘So,’ he smiles. ‘Your mum says you’ve been having a few problems.’

  Just a few.

  ‘Anything in particular?’

  I shrug. ‘It’s everything really.’

  ‘And it’s making you panic, clean, wash a lot?’ He looks at my hands. I go to take off my gloves to show him how sore my fingers are, but Dr Patrick lifts his hand and says he doesn’t need to see. He’s not the sort of doctor who looks at sore hands. He’s a psychotherapist, which means he treats people like me who have got problems in their head.