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night, the top of Aunt Pol’s head was platinum blonde, like Marilyn Monroe. She wouldn’t look up when he called her name and pointed to the Shadow Shape.
    ‘
Aunt Pol, what’s up
?
Tell me.
’

Chapter 8
    GI Joe kicks ass
    ‘So, think the swimathon’ll be a good fundraiser, Jim?’
    Jimmy was sneaking out of Mass before the end, tiptoeing as best he could down the front steps of St Jude’s when GI Joe caught him. Caught him in more ways than one. Of course, Jimmy had remembered GI Joe wanted to see him. But there being no sign of him at the back of the church, Jimmy had convinced himself that GI Joe had forgotten.
    Doh! Nabbed, thought Jimmy, nodding unconvincingly at the ground.
    During Mass, Jimmy had been
vaguely
aware of Father Patrick’s usual dronesville sermon including something about fundraising to help all our less fortunate brothers and sisters overseas. Blah. Blah. Blah. His brain had pressed the off button at that point.
    ‘Jim?’
    GI’s voice was stern, its tone accusing.
    ‘You mean you didn’t hear the sermon? I’m disappointed.’
    Jimmy squirmed.
    ‘Sorry,’ he mumbled, making a futile attempt to shuffle past GI Joe. Escape was becoming a matter of urgency, not merely because GI Joe was giving him grief. People were beginning to spill out of church. Kids from school among them.
    ‘Hey, lighten up, Jim.’ GI Joe’s hand circled Jimmy’s elbow, shook it playfully. ‘Kidding. I don’t listen to that old codger, either. But come back in the church and I’ll show you
. . .
’
    This was worse, infinitely worse than any genuine rebuke from GI Joe. To be ushered through a jostling congregation, letting the very folk you wanted to avoid feast their eyes.
    Mum,
there’s
the fat boy in third year I told you about
!
    Here, thought Jimmy, was a fundraising opportunity
extraordinaire
for GI Joe. All he needed was a megaphone:
    Roll up. Roll up. See Fat Boy Fat in the flesh. Pound a stare.
    Jimmy raised his arm to wipe the sweat of embarrassment from his forehead, bumping Victor’s mother who veered to avoid him, her mouth pursed in distaste.
    Ellie McPherson, new to the school, slipped round Jimmy and away. Her hair piled up on her head looked like chocolate curls. Without her special glasses on, at least
she
wouldn’t have seen him. Jimmy blushed all the same.
    Finally Mum emerged with her wee wifey pals from the choir. ‘Not like your Jimmy to hang about,’ Treesa, their leader, bawled with as much subtlety as her singing.
    Heads turned. Stared.
    ‘He makes you look awfy wee, Father Joe,’ one of the other women cackled.
    ‘Here, we’ll need to hide all the home-baking if your Jimmy’s coming in for a cuppa in the hall, Maeve.’
    Enough already. Jimmy wrenched his arm free of GI Joe’s grip, turned and pushed his way through everyone on the church steps. Ducking his head so low that his chins compressed his throat, he headed for the bus stop but swerved away. He knew the girls standing there.
    ‘No’ coming to join us, big boy?’ one jeered. Senga, Victor’s squeeze. ‘Plenty of you there for all of us.’
    Someone else made a loud vomiting noise and another voice lisped. Chantal McGrory. ‘No theatth for uth if he getth oan, Thenga.’
    Jimmy walked, keeping his eyes on the pavement. As his bus passed, he heard the girls banging the window at him.
    Just get home
he told himself, doing his best to step up the pace.
    ‘Oi, Jim,’ he thought he heard someone call at his back. Although he didn’t turn round. Kept walking until someone stepped in front of him.
    Not again.
    ‘That was rather rude back there.’
    There was an edge to GI Joe’s voice; he was the hard-man coach again.
    ‘Manners cost nothing, you know.’
    Jimmy shrugged, and began to move away.
Leave me alone.
    ‘Where you going now? I’m still talking to you, Jim.’
    ‘Look.’
    Something flashed inside Jimmy and before he could stop himself he was staring GI Joe straight in the face.
    ‘I’ve said