Seeing Dead by Edgar D Jackson

Author:Edgar D Jackson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: IolandaPress
Published: 2024-05-25T15:26:05+00:00

20

THE DEEPEST FALL

‘ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FIVE! HEADS UP, SHOULDERS BACK –’

‘COCKS OUT!’

Marty swallowed against the feeling of dread which was beginning to tickle at his insides. There was a whole Sunday morning’s breakfast in there. His mum’s egg and soldiers, a side of malt wheaties, orange juice, plus a monster bag of Wotsits he’d had later on in the day. His stomach growled dangerously against the swell of the day’s matter. But Marty kept it in. He had to keep it in. Any food coughed out now would take with it any remnants of his dignity. And that was something he could ill afford to lose. He had little of it to start with, he was pretty sure.

‘Let’s have a dick contest! The boy with the smallest dick has to jump in first!’

‘That’s not how this works! We have to keep this orderly! We have to be organised!’

Rory Keeling slapped Ross Baines around the back of the head, then grinned at the five boys in front of them. They were standing in a line, and each had his shirt off, apart from Marty.

He didn’t know either Rory or Ross too well. They were in the year above, and he hadn’t ever actually talked to them. He’d only been at Gealblath Secondary School for a month, but it wasn’t hard to know who they were up against. These two were the crème de la crème, the Nazi Germany of school bullies, and they weren’t to be crossed under any circumstances, unless you wanted to risk death.

‘We start on the end! Gibby! You can go first!’ Rory pointed down the row of boys, his plump finger coming to a halt at the end of the line.

The smallest of the five of them, Gilbert Darrow, was waiting for him there. Marty winced in pity. He had it on good authority that Gibby was a newcomer to Gealblath. He’d heard that his father, who was a banker, had retired from Edinburgh and snapped up one of the Mason properties that would have cost an arm and a leg in the city. It was one of those red-brick houses with a gate, a drive that swooped in a semicircle, a fountain at the front, and a hot tub round the back that had cool multi-coloured lighting. By all accounts, it seemed that most people of Marty’s age range saw Gilbert Darrow as the luckiest kid in town; by which they meant the richest. But he wasn’t very lucky anymore. He was at the end of the line.

‘COME ON, ARSEHEAD!’ Ross pointed his sharpened stick. ‘JUMP TO YOUR CERTAIN DEATH!’

Gibby gasped, then looked over the edge. Marty sighed and looked along with him. The drop was at least fifty feet, if he had to guess. It fell all the way down to the still surface of the swimming hole, where the dark-blue ripples and wild green plant life made the water look almost inviting. If it weren’t for the fact that hitting water after this kind of drop would almost certainly mean your arsehole coming out of your mouth.

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