Read Shattered: A Shade novella for Free Online Page B

still on edge from
‘prison’, so they were not to bring it up or subject me to our usual
roughhousing. But once they saw that my time away hadn’t touched my ability to analyse football – or colourfully insult the referees – they accepted me back into the fold.
    Right
now we’re on the footpath beside the Forth and Clyde Canal, discussing how far
we’d live from Maryhill and still support Partick Thistle.
    ‘All
the way to Govan , I think,’ Niall says, ‘or East End
somewhere.’
    ‘Only
a few miles?’ Martin asks. ‘You’re a fickle bastard, so you are.’
    ‘Not
me.’ Graham taps his fist against the thistle logo on his jersey. ‘I’d support
Jags even in Edinburgh – not that I’d ever live there on purpose.’
    ‘Mind
now, Graham,’ Frankie says. ‘Niall’s girlfriend’s from Edinburgh.’
    ‘Rose’s
not my girlfriend, ya bawbag .’
Niall skelps Frankie in the shoulder. ‘Anyway, she’s
from here in Glesga .’
    ‘If
you say so.’ Frankie stops to light a cigarette, turning his back to the wind.
During the pause, I take in the lush green trees on either side of the canal,
as well as the family of ducks paddling against the light current. I still
can’t get over this wonderful world I’ve reentered. It seems too good to be
true.
    Graham
unscrews the cap from a bottle of Buckfast , takes a
swig, then offers it to Martin. With a bartender’s snobbery, Martin wrinkles
his nose and shakes his head.
    I
hold up a hand to keep Graham from giving me the bottle. ‘Aren’t youse a bit old for this pish ? Buckie’s for weans, not eighteen- and nineteen-year-olds
like yersels .’
    ‘Didn’t
we tell you, Zach?’ Frankie tosses the match over the weeds into the canal. ‘We
were all frozen in time the moment you left. Cheers for coming back and
un-stunting our growth.’
    ‘At yer service.’ I give a gracious mock bow, complete with
hand flourish.
    ‘Ye
didn’t answer our question,’ Niall says to me. ‘How far widje go before Jags lose you?’
    ‘I supported
them when I lived in Baltimore, and in England before that, so I guess they cannae lose me.’
    They
jeer and heckle. Graham shouts, ‘You’re nuthin ’ but a fuckin ’ martyr.’
    I
smile, thinking of how my mates in America used to call me that when I turned
away other girls, waiting for Aura to return my feelings.
    I
pull out my phone to check the time (6.31 p.m.). The battery’s almost dead.
Also, Aura’s not returned the celebratory text message I sent her twenty-one
minutes ago at the end of the match. It’s Saturday, so she’s not in class. Why
wouldn’t she reply?
    ‘So
where we going the night?’ Frankie asks. ‘Zachary’s homecoming deserves the
best.’
    I
scan my memory of last night’s video chat. Did Aura mention going somewhere
today? I should’ve paid better attention.
    ‘There’s
The Sorry Dog,’ Graham says. ‘They’ve a good whisky bar.’
    Frankie
scoffs. ‘Aye, and fuckin ’ expensive. Besides, we
spend too much time in there, we’ll turn into hipster pricks.’
    ‘Too
late for you.’ Niall cracks.
    A
horrible thought strikes: what if the DMP took Aura to 3A? What’s to stop them?
Certainly not me.
    Suddenly
I must know now that she’s alright. I
send her another text: You there?
    As my
mates weigh the pros and cons of local bars, I watch my phone for Aura’s reply.
I can’t ring her – international phone calls cost too much. We’d both get
in trouble.
    ‘Lads.’
Martin clears his throat. ‘I cannae go out with youse the night.’ He scuffs the sole of his shoe against
the grass. ‘Me and some other friends are, em …’
    I
look up from my phone. Is this it, when he finally comes out to all of them?
    ‘ Whaur ye gaun ?’ Graham says.
    ‘ Em … to Relic.’ He bites his lip. ‘For dancing and all.’
    Of
the others, only Niall isn’t confused. He bows his head, rubs the back of his
neck, and sighs. Like this is a moment he’s been dreading.
    ‘Relic?’
Graham says.