that attitude from you at this time in the morning, Ryan. In fact, I could do without it full-stop. You make it sound like I don’t think about you; like I don’t care.’
Ryan never reacted well to someone raising their voice to him, and he was about to throw something back at her when he saw the look on her face. It was almost as though someone had died.
‘Mum?’ he said quietly. ‘Is everything okay?’
‘Yes dear, just fine,’ she said, but the tears welling up in her eyes betrayed her.
‘You sure?’
‘Yes Ryan,’ she said curtly, trying in vain to hide her emotions. ‘Just go to school will you. And try to behave yourself.’
Ryan stared at her for a moment, unsure of how he should be feeling. Eventually his defiant nature stepped in.
‘Fine,’ he said angrily, slamming his knife down onto the table and marching out of the door, leaving his uneaten toast behind.
A moment later he heard his mum burst into tears.
A little while after the confrontation in the kitchen, Ryan found himself standing by the gate at the end of Daisy’s drive. As much as his boyish pride did not want him to admit it, he was in need of the company. The weather was a little more grey and cloudy than it had been the previous day, but as soon as Daisy appeared, skipping towards him as carefree as ever, it seemed all the brighter.
‘Hey Dizz,’ he called as she approached.
‘Morning Ryan,’ she beamed. ‘Guess what?’
Ryan unlatched the gate and let her through.
‘What?’
‘I went there again.’
‘I’m sorry, went where?’
Ryan had prepared a whole speech about how funny his mum had been with him, but Daisy’s cheerful manner had caught him off guard.
‘The Dream Isle, silly. You remember yesterday?’
‘Oh right, of course,’ said Ryan uncertainly. ‘Err… so that was last night I guess. When you were sleeping?’
‘That’s right. I met this lovely man called Tristram. Well, he was mostly man… Anyway, he showed me the way to this huge tower that sits right in the middle of the island. He said that there were people like me there; people who had also found out how to reach the Dream Isle. But he said that he couldn’t come with me because he had an important mission to attend to.’
‘Mission?’ repeated Ryan, scratching his head. He could see Daisy’s tale lasting all the way to school and he wasn’t really in the mood for it.
‘Yes, something about helping someone work through their dreams,’ she said distantly. ‘I didn’t really understand. Anyhow, I followed his directions and eventually I arrived at the entrance to this place. Oh Ryan! It really is amazing. The view from up there was beautiful; there are rivers of dreams pouring out of the sides of the building and threading down through valleys towards the sea. I’ve never seen anything like it.’
‘Yeah, sounds great. Listen, were your folks okay with you this morning?’
‘Yes, of course. Why?’
‘Well, my mum was acting really weird just now. She seemed quite upset about something.’
‘She was fine when I got back from my flute lesson,’ Daisy replied. ‘She had dinner with my parents and they chatted away into the evening.’
‘Weird,’ said Ryan thoughtfully. ‘Something’s bugging her. Maybe it’s her time-of-the-month.’
‘Time for what?’
Ryan looked at her incredulously. She really had led a sheltered life.
‘Forget it,’ he said.
‘Oh, you mean she could be on her period,’ said Daisy, finally picking up the loose thread. ‘Well, I can get a little emotional when mine comes around, so I suppose it could be.’
‘Dizz, there are some things you should really keep to yourself.’
‘What? You’re not getting squeamish on me now, are you Ryan?’
She playfully punched him on the arm.
‘No, of course not. It’s just girls’ stuff, you know? Like the flowers yesterday.’
‘Oh, I see. I’ll try not to bring it up again.’
‘You’d better not.’
‘Well, you’ll have to catch me to stop me!’ shouted Daisy suddenly, and she sprinted across the bridge over the bypass and on down the hill. It was a game they always used to play when they were younger, but had not done for a long while.
‘That doesn’t even make sense!’ protested Ryan, but something compelled him to chase after her anyway. He finally caught up with her at the top end of the road that led past their school, where she had stopped to wait for him.
‘Wow, you nearly had me there,’ she said.
‘Don’t lie,’ panted Ryan. ‘I can’t run and you know it.’
‘Full marks for trying then,’ she grinned, as Ryan wiped his sweaty brow on his sleeve. ‘I guess I’ve got to go now,’ she added, looking over her shoulder at the school gates in the distance.
‘I guess so,’ replied Ryan.
‘See you after school then?’
‘I’ve got footy practice today,’ said Ryan, holding up his gym bag.
‘Oh, well I may see you later anyway. Have a good day!’
She turned and skipped off down the path, leaving Ryan to catch his breath.
‘We haven’t got PE first thing,’ said Ryan, as he and Jack sat in registration, debating which week of their timetable they were on.
Roughdown School operated a two-week timetable, but a lot of the core subjects were on the same day, week-to-week. Sometimes they filled single times slots, other times double. Tuesday afternoon was always double science, which was normally so numbing that Ryan could never recall what had gone on before it. This meant that come Wednesday morning there was usually an argument over whether PE came in the first or second time slot.
‘Yes we have,’ replied Jack for the third time. ‘We’re on Week B. See; we had double maths yesterday morning between break and lunch. If it was Week A it would have been a single, and we would have had Religious Studies as well.’
‘Oh I don’t know,’ said Ryan exasperatedly. ‘You know how science does my head in.’
‘Yeah, it was pretty bad yesterday, wasn’t it?’ agreed Jack.
‘I can’t believe we’ve got PE now,’ Ryan groaned, laying his head on the desk and staring vacantly at a girl called Louise Chapman, who was seated further along. She was possibly the smallest girl in the entire school, including all the lower year groups. Still, she was perfectly formed, and more developed than most, so in Ryan’s eyes she was all right.
‘I wonder what he’ll make us do?’ he added, referring to their PE teacher, Mr Brackley.
‘Well, it’s summer term now, so that means cricket,’ said Jack with a smile.
‘Or athletics,’ added Ryan gloomily. ‘Knowing my luck it’ll be high jump or something even stupider.’
As it turned out, they had the joy of a cross-country run to endure, which pleased neither of them. The hills up behind the school in the direction of Picklewick were challenging to say the least, and Ryan was reduced to a walk within yards of leaving the school gates. Jack fared better, being a good all-round sportsman, but with the air turning muggy and the prospect of rain about, his spirits were also low by the time they had finished.
The weather turned just before break time, forcing them to convene inside and watch as a swift downpour drenched the playing field outside.
‘You’re going to get filthy later,’ laughed Jack.
Ryan played in goal for his year group. He was not the most mobile player, but he had no problems making himself large when a striker was bearing down on him. His reactions were also remarkably good, possibly as a result of all the computer games he played.
‘Look at it,’ he said. ‘There’s going to be about a foot of water in the box by the time we get to play.’
‘Did you bring your swim shorts?’ laughed Jack.
‘Sod off,’ replied Ryan. ‘If you boys do your job there’ll be no need for me to get dirty.’
‘W
e’ll make sure a couple get through. We wouldn’t want you to get bored.’
‘You don’t normally need to let them,’ smirked Ryan. ‘They just nutmeg you and run straight past.’
Jack gave him a shove, which was almost enough to knock Ryan off the table they were sitting on.
‘You still coming round later?’ asked Ryan, regaining himself.
‘Yeah. I think Gibbo and the Bandit are still up for it too.’
‘Good stuff. I’ve got something you’re gonna want to see.’
‘Is it your mum naked?’
This time Ryan shoved Jack, and it was hard enough to send him off the edge of the table and tumbling over a chair. As they both fell around in fits of laughter the bell went and they headed to their geography class.
The weather cleared up around noon and by the time the final bell went and their football practice arrived, the sun was out and they were able to enjoy themselves. They trained for three quarters of an hour, followed by a twenty minute match, during which Ryan made up for his poor run earlier that day by keeping a clean sheet.
They left school in their PE kits and began the long trudge up the hill to Ryan’s house. Gibbo and Dazza had stuck around to watch them.
‘You guys did all right today,’ said Dazza as they headed out of the gates.
‘Yeah, considering they were playing the year below us,’ laughed Gibbo.
‘Well, they’ve got a tournament coming up and old Brackley thought they needed a challenge,’ said Jack.
‘And you didn’t even manage to beat them,’ said Gibbo.
‘They’re only a year below us and they’re quick little buggers,’ retorted Jack.
‘Plus, they didn’t manage to score either,’ said Ryan, pointing to himself.
‘Well, you’re probably the only one who did his job,’ said Dazza, changing his tune.
‘What’s his job? Being fat enough to take up the whole goal?’ asked Gibbo.
‘Hey, if it works, it works,’ shrugged Ryan.
‘Oi, check this out,’ said Dazza, pulling his mobile phone out of his pocket and showing it to Gibbo.
‘You didn’t?’ said Gibbo with a broad grin on his face. ‘When did you take that?’
‘What?’ said Ryan and Jack together, scrambling over one another to get a look.
‘I snuck a picture of Miss Ward in geography today,’ smirked Dazza triumphantly.
‘No way,’ said Jack, grabbing the phone and peering at the tiny image. ‘You did as well. God, her jugs look amazing in that top.’
‘Damn right they do,’ declared Dazza. ‘You’ve got fatty over there to thank for that. I took it when she came over to help him.’
‘Let me see!’ shouted Ryan, grabbing Jack round the arms and trying to wrestle the phone from him.
‘I think you already had a good look,’ exclaimed Jack triumphantly, wrenching an arm free and holding up the phone to the others. They took one look and fell about laughing.
‘Give it here!’ said Ryan, releasing his grip and snatching the phone out of his hand. The picture showed Miss Ward, their Australian geography teacher and another girl of their dreams, leaning down and pointing at Ryan’s work. Ryan, on the other hand, was looking somewhere else entirely. From his seat across the table, Dazza had got a perfect view down her top.
‘Great work,’ Ryan grinned. ‘Hey, send it over to me and we’ll blow it up on the computer when we get back.’
‘I like your thinking,’ said Jack. ‘I guess we should all thank our stars that he took one of Miss Ward and not Mr Brackley’s backside.’
‘Yeah, Bandit!’ cried Gibbo.
Dazza snatched his phone back as the banter continued all the way back to Ryan’s house.
‘Shoes off all of you,’ said Ryan’s mum as they trooped through the front door.
‘Yes Mrs Butler,’ said Gibbo, flashing his best smile.
‘And try not to get too much mud on Ryan’s bed sheets,’ she continued. ‘Any of you boys want a drink?’
‘Oh yes please,’ said Jack, giving Gibbo a sly wink.
‘Fruit juice or fizz?’
‘Fizz will be fine,’ said Ryan, noticing the odd glances passing between his friends. ‘Come on guys.’
He led them upstairs, missing their lingering stares as his mum headed off to the kitchen.
‘Mate, your mum is fit,’ declared Gibbo, when the door to Ryan’s room was closed.
‘Shut it, moron,’ said Ryan, chucking his bag on the floor and flicking on his PC.
‘No seriously,’ added Dazza. ‘Sod Miss Ward, your mum’s a honey.’
‘I hate to say it, but they’re right,’ said Jack. ‘If I was your dad I’d leave the army and spend my entire life at home.’
‘Will you all shut up about my mum! She can probably hear every word you’re saying. Anyway, he’s in the RAF, not the army.’
‘Same difference,’ said Jack, kicking back onto Ryan’s bed. ‘Hey, I wouldn’t be worried about mud on your bed sheets. There’s far worse on here.’
Gibbo and Dazza burst out laughing. Ryan just shook his head.
‘Anyway, I thought you said you had some sort of surprise here for us,’ said Jack. ‘It wasn’t your mum was it?’
Ryan glared at him.
‘You’re reusing your jokes already, mate,’ he said. ‘And if you mention her one more time I won’t bother showing you. Dazza, the computer’s fired up. Stick that photo on it would you?’
Ryan headed over to his large TV, underneath which sat several state-of-the-art games consoles. Next to them was a grey plastic box of similar size.
‘What the hell is that?’ asked Gibbo, coming over and picking up one of the joypads plugged into the front of it.
‘It’s a classic machine,’ said Ryan, turning it on. ‘Old-school gaming at its best.’
‘Where did you get that?’ asked Jack, sitting up excitedly.
‘Found it in the loft. It used to be my dad’s.’
‘Looks a bit tacky if you ask me,’ said Gibbo, prodding one of the buttons.
‘It’s not all about nice curves, you know,’ said Ryan.
At that moment there was a knock at the door and Ryan’s mum came in with their drinks and some bags of crisps. The other boys exchanged smirks, while Ryan glowered at them. As she door shut behind her, his friends all fell into fits of hysterics again.
‘To be fair mate, it is all about nice curves,’ said Jack, wiping tears from his eyes.
‘Shut up and grab a controller,’ said Ryan.
Much to Gibbo’s surprise and delight they spent the next three hours enjoying some of the most hilarious multiplayer gaming they had ever experienced. With pizza supplied by Ryan’s mum, they were whooping and laughing until the other lads’ parents arrived to take them home. With many a wry comment and knowing glance they left, and Ryan, having threatened to punch each of their lights out, headed back up to his room for another hour or so of gaming and to check out in more detail the picture Dazza had taken of Miss Ward.
5
The shimmering waters of a vast ocean spread out enticingly for as far as the eye could see. A heavy swell pounded the cliff-face, throwing up a thick curtain of spray that took the morning sunlight and broke it into a dazzling kaleidoscope of colour. Far beneath Ryan the foamy waters surged and ebbed, revealing a dark secret; the jagged rocks of a weathered coastline. From his vantage point on the highest crest of the cliff, Ryan marvelled at the brutal display of raw energy playing out beneath him. With every crashing wave he felt the blood in his veins race, as his heart synchronised itself with the ocean.
He had never felt more alive, which made it all the more bizarre that he was contemplating the seemingly impossible; to dive out beyond the deadly rocks and churning waters, into the big wide blue beyond. His mind told him to forget it; he would plummet like a stone and break on the rocks like one of the waves, his flesh torn asunder by the relentless forces at work. But something else inside willed him to do it. Whether it
was just some compulsive fantasy, or perhaps a reckless determination to overcome the odds, he had a vision in his mind of soaring gracefully out over the rocks and arrowing into the water, like one of the many cormorants circling below.
It wasn’t as if it was a completely ludicrous idea. Even as he had been walking up to the cliff-edge he had seen a figure clear the rocks in a seemingly effortless dive. It must have been the greatest feeling in the world.
I can make it, he thought. It’s not that far. And if they could do it, then why not me?
His eyes fixed upon a point just beyond the last of the rocks, where the dark shapes of submerged peril diminished and the water was clear.
‘I can make it.’
He said it out loud this time, declaring it to the sea in defiance. It would not claim him. He would become its master.
He took a few steps back and his landing zone disappeared from view. All that remained were the calm, shimmering waters stretching away to the horizon, with no hint of the danger that lay beneath. He steeled his nerve. This was it. Then he ran forwards and jumped.
He had been right; it was the best feeling in the world. In the split-second before gravity took over he felt immortal; hanging in mid-air with only the sea lying before him like a rippling silken sheet. It looked so inviting.
Then he began to fall. He knew it would happen; it was only natural. He looked down and began focussing on his target patch of water, his mind calculating by the second exactly where he would be landing.
I’m not going to make it, he realised with a gut-churning horror. Something had gone terribly wrong. He was falling far too fast and, though he was still moving forwards, he didn’t have enough vertical distance left to allow him to clear the rocks.
He chanced a swift, rueful look back up at the cliff behind him, where only seconds ago it had seemed like such a good idea. How had the other man done it? It had looked so easy. He turned his gaze back to the rocks, which were rapidly increasing in size as they rushed up to meet him. Even the nesting seabirds would do little to soften the impact. He was going to die. In a last bitter attempt to save his pride, he spread his arms like wings and imagined himself to be one of the birds; soaring out over the waters, alive and free.
A sudden blast of air and salty spray hit him in the face as yet another wave crashed into the rocks. The force of it was immense, blasting upwards and slowing his descent. He felt the air rushing beneath him and there was real substance there; something to push against. He flapped his arms and felt his body surge forward, accompanied by a thrill that sent tingles to the furthest reaches of his body. He was going to make it!
There was barely fifty feet of descent left, but he was in control now, his trajectory flattening out with every passing millisecond. For a fleeting moment he thought he saw a figure standing on the rocks watching him, then suddenly he was free from the danger, soaring out over the clear, blue water. With the buzz of victory racing through him, he locked his arms out in front of his head and speared into the sea with barely a splash.
What a rush!
It was dark under the waves; much darker than he had imagined when he had viewed them from up on the cliff-top. And it was getting darker by the second, for he was still descending. He had no idea how fast he had been going when he had hit the water, but Ryan had barely slowed at