Red Rocks Read Free Page A

side of the fence, the dog thrashed and howled. It was as if they had lassoed him, with the rope making a tight noose around his neck.
    ‘Hey, Mark! Pull him closer!’ The other boy, with blonde spiky hair, had a handful of stones.‘He won’t bite, he’s too soft.’
    Jake stopped a safe distance away. Mark, the brown-haired boy, was intent on pulling the rope, but the blonde boy caught sight of him. He pulled himself up to his full height, which was much taller than Jake.
    ‘What are you looking at, loser?’
    Jake’s voice was small. ‘Nothing.’
    A stone zinged through the air and struck him on the shoulder.
    ‘Get outta here and mind your own business ,’ hissed the dark-haired boy, while his friend sniggered and pretended to hoist another missile. Jake ducked and the boys laughed. His cheeks burned and he got back on his bike and pedalled away. He didn’t look at the dog as he passed, couldn’t bear to see its face.
    ‘You tell anyone and we’ll get you!’
    Jake ducked his head and another stone whistled past his shoulder.
    What could he have done? Nothing, he told himself. The dog would be all right. Surely itsowner wasn’t far away. His shoulder throbbed where the stone had hit. There was nothing he could do — was there? A sick feeling crept into his stomach.
    He knew boys like that, back home. Three in particular regularly stopped him on the way home from school and pushed him around a bit before getting bored and moving on to younger kids. They told him he lived in make-believe land; they called him ‘retarded’; sometimes they hit him, but he always made up some excuse if the bruises showed, told his mum he’d been hit by a ball playing cricket, so she wouldn’t worry. He didn’t want her to march into the school, which would give the boys something else to bully him about. He thought if he just kept out of their way and didn’t make trouble they would eventually forget about him. Besides, he did sometimes live in a make-believe world — they were right about that. It was much more interesting than the real world, and much safer.
    He put his head down and pedalled hard, trying to push the dog, and the boys — all of them — out of his mind.
    Once he left the sealed road, it was harder to pedal, but the tyres had thick tread and they took the bump and lurch of the road well. The road ran the length of the beach, all the way to Red Rocks. He put his head down against the breeze, trying not to imagine his ears freezing and breaking off. He passed a man and a woman walking the same way. The man had a backpack with a baby in it, rugged up against the cold so only its little face poked out, like a marsupial in a pouch. They had on sturdy walking shoes and polar fleece jackets, much more sensible than Jake’s sneakers and hoodie.
    Jake concentrated on the sound of his wheels, shush-shush-shushing on the muddy road, and the waves washing onto the stones, continuing their conversation from yesterday. He imagined the sea taunting the stones with tales of its adventures, while the stones had tomake do with staying still. He imagined stories of mermaids and sailing ships, of sharp-toothed fish and whales the size of houses. He would have liked to have found a boat washed up on the shore. He would jump in it and let the sea carry him wherever it liked.
    He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he didn’t notice he was getting closer to the old man’s shack until he was right up next to it. The old man was standing outside again, but this time he wasn’t alone. A young woman stood beside him. It was the same woman from the fish and chip shop. Jake’s stomach gave a little flip when he saw her; he wasn’t sure why. He wondered if she had walked all that way, in bare feet. Her feet must be bruised and cut from the sharp stones.
    She looked miserable. Her shoulders were hunched and she was grabbing at the old man’s hands. She seemed to be pleading with him. Her bright red hair sprang in the breeze.