“No,” said Will, turning around to face Danny. “I wish it was me.” He jabbed himself in the chest. “I wish that I had died, with Mum, because I’d rather be dead with her than stuck here with you.” He yanked the front door open and slammed it shut behind him.
Danny didn’t know if Will had chosen those words deliberately, but they cut him more than when Liz’s father had spat them at the funeral.
Now he’s stuck without a mother.
Now he’s stuck with you.
* * *
“Hold on, what?” said Mo as he fiddled with his hearing aid. “I think this thing is broken. What did you just say?”
“I said my dad’s a dancing panda,” said Will. He kicked a stray tennis ball across the crowded schoolyard.
“Maybe it’s the batteries or something. It sounded like you said your dad’s a dancing panda.”
“That is what I said.”
“Then I’m still confused,” said Mo.
Will sighed. “Remember when I told you about the guy in the panda suit who saved me from Mark that day?” Mo nodded. “Well, that was my dad.”
“Why was he dressed like a panda?”
“He was dancing. In the park.”
“Like, for fun?”
“No, like, for money.”
“I thought he worked on a building site?”
“He did,” said Will, “but he got fired, so he decided to become a dancing panda instead.”
“No offense, but, well, I never thought of your dad as the dancing panda type.” Mo pondered this for a moment. “Actually, I never thought of anybody as the dancing panda type. I didn’t even know your dad could dance.”
“A pole dancer taught him after he rescued her bathrobe that was stolen by a wizard who can set things on fire with his mind,” said Will matter-of-factly.
Mo waited for the punch line. None came. “You are totally making this up,” he said.
“I couldn’t make this up.”
“For reals?”
“For reals.”
“Then this is officially the coolest thing I’ve ever heard. I think I want to be your dad when I grow up.”
“You don’t,” said Will. “He’s a liar and I hate him. And anyway, I thought you wanted to be a zoophile or whatever it’s called.”
“Screw that. Who wants to be a zoologist when you could be helping pole dancers fight telekinetic wizards? That’s the stuff dreams are made of.”
“Pole dancers?” said Mark as he swaggered past with Gavin and Tony. “You losers talking about Will’s mum again?” He laughed, as did his goons, although even they seemed reluctant to endorse the joke.
“Are you the only person in your family with Tourette’s, Mark?” said Mo. “Or did you get it from your mum and dad?”
“What’s Tourette’s?” whispered Gavin.
“French food,” said Tony.
Gavin nodded, even more confused.
“What did you just say?” said Mark, squaring up to Mo, who started to reply before his words were cut short by a hand around his throat. “Don’t you ever talk about my dad again, you little shit!” spat Mark.
“Why?” said Will. “Because it hurts?”
“What?” said Mark, his grip relaxing on Mo as he turned his sights on Will.
“It hurts, doesn’t it?” said Will, his heart racing but his voice steady as he forced himself to hold Mark’s gaze. “When people say things about someone you love who isn’t here anymore.”
“I’ll hurt you if you don’t shut your mouth!”
“Not as much as you’re hurting yourself,” said Will.
Mark frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“You try to act tough all the time, but I know you feel the same way that I do.”
“You don’t know shit,” said Mark, standing so close to Will that their toes were almost touching.
“I know you keep yourself awake at night wondering why it had to happen to you and not to somebody else,” said Will.
“Shut up.”
“I know you see people with their mums and dads and you wish that could be you.”
“I said shut up!” shouted Mark, his voice cracking slightly.
“I know you hold on to things that belonged to your dad because you think there’s still a little piece of him attached to it.”
“Shut the fuck up!” yelled Mark, tugging his sleeve over the old silver Casio around his wrist.
“And I know you’re angry, Mark,” said Will, his voice shaking now. “You’re angry because somehow the world just continues, even though your life’s been ruined, and it feels so unfair that you want to ruin other people’s lives because it’s not right that they get to be happy and you don’t. And I know you think that nobody else understands what you feel, and most people don’t, but I do, Mark.”
Will prodded himself in the chest.
“I know how you feel. I know how much it hurts. But hurting other people won’t make it hurt any less. It won’t make the pain go away. So keep beating me up. Keep taking the piss out of me. Keep pushing me around. It won’t change anything, because your dad is gone, just like my mum, and nothing in the world will ever bring them back.”
Mark stared at Will with a jaw tight enough to make a crowbar tremble. His chest was heaving and his fists were shaking like two angry dogs on a lead, and Will quietly braced himself for the moment that Mark set them loose; but much to the surprise of Mo, Gavin, Tony, and everybody else who had gathered at a safe distance to watch the altercation unfold, Mark didn’t hit Will that day. He didn’t even speak. Instead he turned and marched across the schoolyard, his hands no longer balled into fists but shielding his face from the crowd.
CHAPTER 28
Krystal laughed when Danny stood on her foot the first time. She even smiled when he did it the second time. The third time she rolled her eyes, the fourth time she quietly cursed, and the fifth time she cursed so loudly that Fanny stuck her head around the door to check that everything was okay.
“What are you doing?” said Danny as Krystal abandoned him midroutine and angrily turned off the music.
“What am I doing?” said Krystal. “What are you doing, Danny?”
“Er… dancing?”
“Yeah, all over my fucking feet. These right here are delicate instruments. They’re what I use to make money.”
“Really?” said Danny doubtfully. “People pay to see your feet?”
“One guy does, actually, smart-arse. And he pays pretty well too, but he won’t if my feet look like the cobbles of fucking Pamplona, will he?”
“I told you already, it was an accident. Accidents happen.”
“Yeah, you’re living proof of that. But five times isn’t an accident, Danny. Once is an accident. Twice at a push. But five times? Five times is not an accident. Five times is a fucking joke.”
“I said I was sorry.”
“What are you sorry for exactly?” said Krystal. “Are you sorry for standing on my feet? Or are you sorry for wasting my time this morning when I could have been in bed watching Bargain Hunt?”