Joe Craig - Jimmy Coates - Killer

“You’re not sixteen. You’re shorter than my sister, and she’s thirteen.” Jimmy felt a new confidence. He didn’t think this boy would be too keen to have a foot in his neck again.

“So? I might be short for my age.”

“You’re no way sixteen, that’s all.” Jimmy looked at him harder, as if to check.

“All right, I’m thirteen,” mumbled Mitchell, his humiliation complete. He looked away.

“There’s nothing in my bag,” Jimmy remarked. “Just food and clothes.”

“Then why were all those men after you?”

Jimmy tried to think of an answer, but nothing came. He knew it wasn’t for the bag, though.

“They’re after me,” he stuttered at last. The shock of hearing it said aloud for the first time was dreadful. “They’re after me,” he said again. His throat tightened, and his stomach turned over. This wasn’t any mysterious inner strength, though–it was fear.

“What’s your name?” said Mitchell.

“Jimmy.”

“I’m Mitchell. Hi.”

“I don’t want to fight.” Jimmy suddenly felt close to crying.

Mitchell let out a huge laugh, throwing his head back and feeling his neck some more. Jimmy was taken aback.

“What’s funny?”

“You idiot. You just beat me up. You could have killed me,” scoffed Mitchell. “I’m not going to try hitting you again, am I? Idiot.”

“Shut up!” said Jimmy, but a small part of him glowed at this coming from an older boy. “Just go away.”

“I’m not running away. What if you chase me?”

“I won’t chase you.”

“I’m staying here. If you want to go, then go. I’d never catch you.” Mitchell stepped slightly to the side, almost inviting Jimmy to run past him. But something Mitchell had said made Jimmy stay.

“You saw them chasing me?” Jimmy asked.

“What? Yeah. I saw those men get out of the car and come at you.”

“You watched the whole thing? And you could keep up?”

“Well, yeah. Sure.” Mitchell shrugged his shoulders. “I dunno, I’m a fast runner too, I guess. Faster than those men, anyway.”

“Oh.” Jimmy wondered how come two kids had been able to run faster and further than any of the men.

“So, are you going?” Mitchell jerked his head to one side, indicating the park.

“I need your help.”

“Yeah right. What for?”

“I just need you to take me to the police station.”

“What?” Mitchell laughed again, but it was more nervous this time. “You want me to go with you to the police station so you can tell them to arrest me? Do you think I’m stupid?”

“No, not so they can arrest you. You don’t have to come in with me, but I need to get away from those men.”

“Why should I help you? I already saved you from them.”

“What?”

“I saved you from those men. They were going to catch you but I stopped them.”

“You didn’t stop them. I escaped.”

“Yeah, I did. You don’t know. You couldn’t see.” Mitchell jumped from foot to foot, half from cold and half from restlessness. Jimmy knew he was lying. It was pretty obvious. He didn’t want to argue, though. He wanted to get moving before the men found him again.

“OK, whatever. Thanks,” Jimmy sighed. “So because you saved me, I won’t tell them you tried to steal my bag. But you still have to take me to the police station. Unless you want my foot in your neck again.” He had never threatened anyone like that before, and he didn’t like how it felt, though he could see from Mitchell’s expression it was going to work.

“Why don’t you phone them? Get out your mobile.” Mitchell thought he was being clever. His brother would be impressed if he snatched a mobile.

“I don’t have one. What about a phone box?” said Jimmy, completely unaware that the truth had saved him from another attempt at robbery.

“Whatever. Come on, then. Let’s go.”

Mitchell and Jimmy walked through the park in awkward silence. Mitchell stayed a couple of steps ahead of Jimmy. He was used to walking alone and didn’t like the feeling of accompanying someone. He dug his hands in his pockets and ignored the boy next to him.

Jimmy dragged along behind. It had been a very long night and it wasn’t over yet. He longed to shut his eyes and find himself back in his bed, waking up from a bad dream. His parents would be there, so would Georgie, and everything would be fine–perhaps better than before. No arguments, and definitely no men in suits.

As they climbed through some bent railings in the park fence, Jimmy shot out a question just to break the silence. “What school do you go to?”

Mitchell grimaced. “Leave me alone.”

“Oh.” Jimmy waited a second then tried again. “Hey, thanks.”

“What?” This time Mitchell turned to look at Jimmy.

“Thanks for showing me the way. I was lost. What’s your name again?”

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Mitchell sneered. “I should have beaten your head in.”

“You didn’t though, did you?” Jimmy felt braver now. Compared to suited men in black cars, Mitchell was a lot less scary than he might have been. “I’ve forgotten your name,” Jimmy said.

“It’s Mitchell. But we’re not friends, so you can forget it again.”

“I’m Jimmy.”

“I know. Jimmy the idiot.”

Jimmy just smiled. Being called an idiot didn’t seem to matter any more. He didn’t mind that Mitchell didn’t want to talk; he was just relieved to have someone taking him in the right direction. And he might have been wrong, but he thought for a second that he saw a smile creep on to Mitchell’s face.

They stopped on a corner.

“It’s down here on the right,” Mitchell muttered.

“Wait there,” ordered Jimmy, straining to see if the police station was there. He kept Mitchell in the corner of his eye, just in case. “How do I know I can trust you?” he said at last.

“You don’t.” Mitchell shook his head in exasperation. “Look, it’s down there, OK? I’m not taking you any closer. I’m not your mum. So believe me or don’t, I don’t care. I’m going home.” He turned his back on Jimmy and started walking away. He was braced for a fight, expecting Jimmy to pounce on his back. He tried to walk casually.

All Jimmy could see were the shadows. He scoured the scene for anything that looked suspicious. But everything looked suspicious. Any parked car could be concealing more men in suits, lying in wait for Jimmy. He didn’t want Mitchell to leave. The company was comforting.

“Thanks again,” Jimmy whispered.

Mitchell didn’t look round. Instead, he stuck his hand up in the air and held it there for a moment, then he broke into a jog and was gone. Jimmy’s heart sank. He was alone again.

THERE IT WAS. Hardly a hundred metres from where Jimmy had been hesitating, the police station sat like a comforting smile washed in blue light. It was set back from the road slightly, which is why he hadn’t seen it from the corner. Now he ran through the door like it was home.

He rushed through the brightly-lit lobby up to the desk. There was no one else in there except for the officer behind the desk, and another sitting on a bench by the door, nursing a bloody nose and holding an ice-pack to his forehead. Jimmy threw a glance at him, but the officer looked away hurriedly and pretended to read the notice boards.

“Hello, son. Can I help you?” said the officer behind the desk. He spoke in a deep voice that sounded friendly to Jimmy, but at the same time a little scary. Maybe that was because it was coming from a man who was well over six feet tall. Jimmy had never actually spoken to a policeman before. His words troubled over each other, confusing his tongue. He didn’t know where to begin.