Just then something rattled next to her and she saw some bits of stone falling to the ground. She twisted round and looked up, squinting against the bright sky. Thought she maybe saw a movement high up on the roof, a dark silhouette. It was quickly gone.

Just a pigeon probably.

Everything was going to be all right.

Chapter 39

39

Loser. Noob. Useless twat.

Big Mick wanted to kick himself in the arse. He’d always been like this. Scared of the sight of blood. Not other people’s blood. He didn’t mind that.

His own blood.

Just the thought of it made his head shrink in on itself and he’d go all dizzy and nauseous and pathetic. One time he’d had to give a blood sample. He’d made the mistake of watching the nurse stick the needle in his arm, saw the little plastic tube fill up with dark blood. It was like all the air had been sucked out of him. The next thing he knew he was waking up in the chair with his mum and the nurse staring at him. His mum looking worried. The nurse was smiling, virtually laughing at him.

Didn’t like hospitals. Didn’t like nurses. Didn’t like doctors.

He’d grabbed Blue as they were getting ready to head deeper into the building. His heart had been thumping and he’d hoped he could talk without tripping over his words. He had to stay on top of things.

‘Don’t you think we need someone to stay here and keep a look-out?’ he’d said, pleased that his voice hadn’t let him down. Blue had shrugged.

‘Maybe. Dunno.’

‘What if more grown-ups rock up?’ Mick pressed on. ‘Try to get in behind?’

‘Could happen.’

‘I’ll stay if you want.’

‘Yeah? You sure?’

‘Yeah. I’ll keep my three guys. We’ll watch your back.’

‘Cool. Don’t reckon we’ll be long.’

Blue had clapped him on the shoulder then turned and joined the rest of the group. Soon they’d gone. Disappeared down a corridor next to the reception desk. It felt very still and quiet without them.

Now Mick was sweating in a chair. If he’d had to stand up any longer his legs would have given out, they were trembling so much.

Why was he such a loser?

He could mash grown-ups into the ground and knock their eyes out, slit their poxy bellies open, didn’t bother him one bit. But his own blood. I mean, it wasn’t as if the cut on his arm he’d got from whacking the grown-up in the mouth was even that bad, but there was this little waggling flap of skin, and a smear of blood up his arm and …

He closed his eyes, feeling faint again. Felt acid rising in his throat and choked it down.

Useless loser.