He can cycle right over bricks and everything. well proud. I want to cry and take I’m a photo and hold hand and tell my Mum. I breathe in some of the dry air. Georgina’s It sticks in my throat like splintered wood. How can air be so painful? Phil breaks from the gang and nods for me to come over. I join the gang and they stand around. Dan, Brian, Matt and Simon, all staring at me talking to Phil. I can feel my insides jiggling around, crows swooping and pecking at my belly. I look them all in the eye and nod an alright to each. I focus. I look at Phil. He spits at the ground. alright ‘You Dean.’ not a question. It’s ‘Yeah, alright.’ I nod sideways at the BMX kids. going ‘What’s on?’ Phil twists his head at me like tightening a bolt. caught me, got me in his he’s He’s grasp and is crushing me. I panic. I even know what done. Why am I don’t I’ve shitting myself? lips purse. I swallow a dry chunk stuck in my throat. I Phil’s that’s have to say something or going to faint. I’m like a ‘It’s funeral.’ I force a gurgle laugh. all the ‘Where’s music?’ I bounce my head and shoulders. I hear the bass in my head. out of time and It’s warped. I look at the gang. Their faces are stone cold. nostrils puff wide as Simon’s he snorts. He puts a finger over the side of his nose and blows a spray out of the other. He wipes away the snot from his lip using the sleeve of his trackie top. He squints at me. face is dead. His skin is always pale but now it looks like bacon Phil’s rind. There are streaks of pink blood pulsing across his tight cheeks. His eyes go
He can cycle right over bricks and everything. I’m well proud. I want to cry and take a photo and hold Georgina’s hand and tell my Mum. I breathe in some of the dry air. It sticks in my throat like splintered wood. How can air be so painful? Phil breaks from the gang and nods for me to come over. I join the gang and they stand around. Dan, Brian, Matt and Simon, all staring at me talking to Phil. I can feel my insides jiggling around, crows swooping and pecking at my belly. I look them all in the eye and nod an alright to each. I focus. I look at Phil. He spits at the ground. ‘You alright Dean.’ It’s not a question. ‘Yeah, alright.’ I nod sideways at the BMX kids. ‘What’s going on?’ Phil twists his head at me like he’s tightening a bolt. He’s caught me, got me in his grasp and is crushing me. I panic. I don’t even know what I’ve done. Why am I shitting myself? Phil’s lips purse. I swallow a dry chunk that’s stuck in my throat. I have to say something or I’m going to faint. ‘It’s like a funeral.’ I force a gurgle laugh. ‘Where’s all the music?’ I bounce my head and shoulders. I hear the bass in my head. It’s out of time and warped. I look at the gang. Their faces are stone cold. Simon’s nostrils puff wide as he snorts. He puts a finger over the side of his nose and blows a spray out of the other. He wipes away the snot from his lip using the sleeve of his trackie top. He squints at me. Phil’s face is dead. His skin is always pale but now it looks like bacon rind. There are streaks of pink blood pulsing across his tight cheeks. His eyes go