Graffiti My Soul Read Free Page B

to look for training elsewhere. She was too busy to follow it through, so took my word for it.
    Casey had been a regional Harriers trainer, one of the local hot shots, but then he disappeared for a while, after some boy started blabbing about being touched up. Bad news for the Surrey Harriers. They were licked at most of their meetings after that. They had replacements obviously, but no one who employed the same technique. The new guys were all about encouragement and nurturing. They worried about self-esteem and hurt feelings. Casey’s the other way. He doesn’t believe in hand-holding. More an all-out bastard who demands you hand over your life. Expects total dedication, and very rarely gives his charges a second chance. Show your fallibility and you’re out of there. The centre, in their panic, forgot all about this, and the sagging silver shelf that he had helped them to accumulate. They lost a good ’un. But fantastic for me. I hired him on the spot.
    That makes it sound more glamorous than it actually was. We met in an out-of-the-way Starbucks in Walton, where we both begged each other like a pair of faggots. His begging was more hysterical and outdid mine. He’s still the best trainer in the county. No one can touch him. You can’t accuse me of not giving anyone a second chance.
    Also, I know he’s not interested in me. I did my homework. Twelve-year-olds are more his thing. I could whop it in his face and he wouldn’t so much as flinch.
    Obviously I didn’t tell Mum about Casey, because the mere mention of his name would give her a stroke on the spot. The charges had been dropped, but the alleged incident at the Harriers had been splashed across all the local papers, and had even made an edition of London Tonight . Surrey’s first paedo scandal. Past achievements aside, it made him our newest celebrity.
    â€˜Gimmie a break,’ I say, when I’m near to passing out, after a fresh round of sprint hurdles, and he’s getting all Saddam with the stopwatch.
    â€˜It was only three Benson, for fuck’s sake. It’s not like I was smoking crack or anything.’
    We have to train on the public track in the park, because the Harriers won’t let us anywhere near their precious facilities. Yes, there are two tracks in the same town. Welcome to Surrey, where you get double everything on a plate. At this time in the morning, six on the dot, it’s perfect. The place becomes my own personal training space. I don’t get psyched out, having to look at the other kids who may be better than I am. Out here, like this morning when there’s only one man and his dog, and Mr Paedo PE, I’m all calm and focus.
    Rep hurdles are a bastard to do. We call them hurdles, but they’re mini-hurdles, more like steps. You could replace them with tyres or beer cans if you wanted to, the principle’s the same. Any old object to jump over. Casey is being a tosser with the reps. Won’t listen when I say I can’t do them. I jump twenty of the steps, twenty seconds’ rest, then jump another twenty, then another rest, then forty, and a rest of ten. I’ve done three of these circuits and feel worn out.
    Casey doesn’t look worried, or bothered. He’s standing inside track, stopwatch dangling onto his chest like some medallion man, and idly glancing at the Sun ’s back pages.
    â€˜No slacking, V-pen!’ he shouts every so often with a quick glance up.
    This is a harder job for him than it looks, considering how quick the reps are. If I were one of those twelve-year-olds he liked so much, I’d probably fall for it. As it is, the way his eyes flick back and forth indicates that, for this morning at least, he feels as unfocused as me. Someone of Casey’s calibre doesn’t do laid-back, unless there’s a lesson in it somewhere.
    As I’m jumping, I wonder if his lack of attention has anything to do with his fear of being outed as