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managed to take twenty whole paces before somebodydecided to have a go. He wondered if it was a new record; thinking,
An all-time low
.
    â€˜It’s Roddy,’ Jenny said, half worried, half warning.
    Sarah flinched.
    Tim nodded. ‘I guessed.’
    â€˜Ignore him,’ his sister said.
    Sarah walked quickly, wasn’t even going to turn and look. But Tim knew ignoring Roddy Morgan was never quite as simple as it sounded. So he stood his ground.
    â€˜What d’you want, Roddy?’
    Jenny and Sarah exchanged an anxious glance. Tim pretended not to notice.
    Roddy Morgan shoved his way through the bustle of kids to catch up with them. ‘I’ve been waiting for you all morning.’
    Sarah was staring at her feet. Again Tim said, ‘What do you want?’
    He had scruffy blond hair, was skinny not scrawny, looking like he was made out of twisted wire. ‘I’ve been looking for you all over the place.’
    â€˜And now you’ve found me. So what do you want?’
    He took a folded sheet of paper out of his jacket. ‘I want you to do me a favour.’
    A
favour
? Tim nearly laughed out loud. Like that was ever going to happen. ‘Can’t, Roddy. Sorry. Bit busy at the minute.’
    â€˜It won’t even take a minute.’ He waved the sheet of paper.
    â€˜I’m in a rush. I’ve still got homework to do.’
    â€˜This isn’t homework. This is important.’ He chuckled to himself, because he thought he was funny.
    Unconsciously they’d squared up to each other. Roddy had never been the worst; there had always been older lads more vicious and little kids more irritating when it came to ripping the piss out of Tim and the tradition and the Mourn. But Roddy had been the first to call him ‘Monster Boy’ and Tim was quite happy to hate him for the rest of his life just for that alone. Although he’d become noticeably more spiteful over the past year and Tim didn’t think it was coincidence that he’d also started working for Vic Stones at WetFun round about the same time. Roddy had a talent for all things mechanical apparently, spent long hours at the weekend coaxing life from the most clapped-out jet-skis and outboard motors. According to Roddy’s constant crowing, Vic Stones couldn’t sing his praises loud enough. In return Roddy claimed Stones was a generous boss, a ‘top bloke’. The two of them were a mutual fan club.
    Tim had told Jenny that he’d probably learned everything he knew about engines from nicking cars – yet couldn’t help feeling a prickling of envy towards him. His mechanical skill, the fact that he could
do
something. Tim had never been able to do anything. The typewriter and the guitar and the photography books in his bedroom were proof of that, weren’t they?
    But there was a more obvious jealousy on Roddy’s side. Last Christmas he’d asked Sarah out, bought her a cuddly toy (a horrible, cute, sickly bear or something) with someof the money he’d earned from WetFun. She’d refused him, embarrassing him, and then in February she and Tim had started seeing each other. These days Roddy liked to pretend she didn’t even exist.
    He was refusing to acknowledge her now, had his back to her. ‘Come on. Just one favour,’ he said to Tim. He grinned in what he must have thought was a friendly way, but just looked like he had a bad taste in his mouth. He waved the folded sheet of paper under Tim’s nose.
    Tim looked down at the white sheet suspiciously. He saw the oil and dirt under Roddy’s fingernails. ‘Sorry, Roddy.’ He put his arm around Sarah’s shoulder, made to lead her away. ‘Like I said, bit busy at the minute.’ But Sarah wasn’t about to be used in the argument and squirmed out from under him. Tim immediately regretted his action, felt stupid because of his own tactlessness, and tried to follow her.
    â€˜No. Hang