find himself standing outside in the busy beer garden. He looked down at the smashed glass at his feet,

then up again at Ash.

“I – I broke a glass.”

Ash shrugged and gave an easy smile. “Ah, don’t worry. I break about ten every weekend. Ryan

said he was going to give me a plastic tumbler soon.”

Fizz wasn’t sure what to do, but he knew he felt uncomfortable. His eyes dropped, and he felt his

cheeks flushing.

“You okay?” Ash asked. The concern in his voice was comforting, yet made Fizz feel utterly

useless. Shaking his head, Fizz willed himself not to panic. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in...

Warmth wrapped around his hand, and squeezed gently. “Come sit with us,” Ash said. “I’m sure

you’re allowed to take five.”

Fizz stared down at the hand clasping his, the two tones of skin set against each other, one dark,

one pale. A flush of warmth travelled up his arm, and a new feeling joined it. Not his usual waves of

panic, but more a gentle fluttering in the stomach, like butterflies. By the time Fizz had thought about

it, Ash had already coaxed him over to his table.

Chapter Seven

“Don’t know if you’ve been properly introduced yet,” Ash said, still holding onto Fizz’s hand as

they reached the table. “This is Dee, and that’s Glen.”

Fizz darted a glance at the two boys sitting at one end of the table. Well, picnic bench. They were in

Ryan’s band. Fizz had seen them upstairs a few times now. Glen was the one who had spiky, bright

green hair, and several piercings. Dee was the one with more tattoos, and the pink and purple mohawk.

Unlike Ryan’s hair, Dee’s mohawk was almost always sprayed up in all its outrageous glory.

Fizz wondered what they did for a living to get away with looking like that. Maybe they were still

in college. He knew he wouldn’t work up the courage to ask; after that initial glance, he lowered his

eyes. Ash manoeuvred Fizz into sitting down, then sat next to him. Fizz was relieved that Dee and

Glen didn’t pay him much attention. In fact, they barely seemed to halt their conversation.

“I say, it’s entirely possible,” Dee insisted.

“I’d love to you prove me wrong.” Glen chuckled.

“I will. If you hurry up and think how I can get the red part.”

Ash groaned. “You’re not still on about that?”

Dee grinned back. “It makes perfect sense.”

“Only to you.” Ash shot Fizz a sidelong look and hissed, “Whatever they say, just ignore it.”

“What do you think, mate?” Glen addressed him directly.

Fizz stared back in panic. “W-what?”

“Dee reckons,” Glen said. “That he can poo a German flag.”

Fizz’s panic subsided briefly, if only through confusion. “Huh?”

“Not an actual flag!” Dee laughed. “Although maybe you could if you ate one...”

Ash grimaced. “Dee, please shut up.”

“No, I’m serious,” Dee said. “I reckon if I eat the right things, at the right time, I can do a poo

that’s coloured like the German flag. For instance –”

“Dee,” Ash cut in. “Really. Shut up.”

“No, this is important.” Dee was apparently serious. Fizz didn’t know what to think. “If I drink

enough of this.” Dee held up his pint of Guinness. “I’ll do a black poo. So then I eat a load of chicken

korma, or something like that, and I’ll do a yellow poo.” Beside him, Glen started shaking with

laughter, with the odd snort escaping. “That’s two thirds of the flag, so now I need something that’ll

make me do a red poo.”

“Well, when your arse starts bleeding –” Glen began.

Ash jumped up. “I’m going to the bar!” he announced. “You two are grossing me out.”

“Don’t pretend to be all affronted,” Dee said with a smirk, then raised his eyebrows in Fizz’s

direction. “Just because your new friend is here.”

“I’m not pretending,” Ash replied. “This actually is gross. Anyway, Fizz –” He looked down with a

smile. “Do you want a drink?”

Panicked at being put on the spot, Fizz felt his cheeks heat up. He quickly looked down, before

anyone noticed. “N-no, thank you.”

Dee addressed Glen, “Let’s nip round the corner and get a korma to take away.”

“You’re trying it tonight?” Glen asked.

“Yeah, why wait?”

“But what about the red –”

Fizz was drawn from their inane conversation when Ash touched his shoulder. “Seriously,” he

asked. “What do you want? Just a fruit juice? Or soda?”

“Um – I – I –” Fizz was stuck for words. What could he do? He really wanted to say, thank you for

the offer, but no thank you. All he wanted was to retreat upstairs. The noise and openness of the

garden was getting to him. He couldn’t help but notice a few people at other tables were looking his

way, probably wondering who he was. Maybe they were more friends of Ginger’s, or maybe they were

complete strangers, but they all had curious, judging stares. He couldn’t deal with it, he really

couldn’t.

Yet he didn’t want to appear rude to Ash, who had been so nice to him. As Fizz fretted over what to

say, Ryan appeared in the garden and hurried over to join them. “I hope you lot are behaving,” Ryan

said to his friends. Dee muttered something to Glen, but Ryan ignored them. He turned a warm smile

on Fizz and said, “Fizz, are you hungry? You haven’t had dinner, have you?”

“Oh,” Fizz breathed. Oh thank God. “Um, is – is Ginger...?”

Ryan guessed what he was try to ask, and shook his head. “No, Ginger said he’ll stay on the bar to

help, as it’s getting busy now. He said he’s already had a burger.”

“Okay,” Fizz said quietly. He stood up, pausing to say to Ash – or rather, Ash’s feet – “Um, thank

you, anyway.”

“No worries,” Ash said.

Did he sound disappointed? Fizz tried not to think on it. He stepped out from the table, waiting for

Ryan to lead him away. Ryan stood where he was, as if he was thinking about something. “Ah, I’ve

just remembered something. Matt’s out at his Kung Fu class.”

Fizz blinked at him. “Huh?”

“Are you any good at cooking?” Ryan asked him. “Matt will have locked his kitchen up. We’ve got

some stuff in our kitchen, but you’ll have to cook it from scratch.”

“Oh.” Fizz hated that he was being a nuisance, simply by needing to eat. “It – it doesn’t matter. I –

I’ll make some toast.”

Ryan shrugged. “I don’t mind cooking, but to be honest, I’d be better off staying down here and

helping Ginger and Pete at the bar. They’re really getting swamped. Maybe –” He directed a pointed

look at Ash. “Mate, you can cook. Would you do us a massive favour and make some dinner?”

Fizz’s stomach did a somersault. He glanced at Ash, who smiled in reply. “Sure, no problem.”

“Awesome.” Ryan beamed. “Get upstairs then.”

“Right.” Ash moved away from the table.

“All right!” Dee whooped. “Free food!” As he stood up, Ryan laid a hand on his shoulder to push

him back down. “Oh no,” he said firmly. “You two aren’t going upstairs without me there. Ginger

would kill me.”

“Oh, what!” Dee complained. Glen also muttered sullenly.

“No way, ever,” Ryan said. “Although if you ask Ash nicely, maybe he can bring you some scraps

down later.”

Ash chuckled, but tried to hide it behind his hand. Fizz felt his own lips twitch at the sight. There

was just something about seeing Ash laugh made him want to smile too.

“Actually...” Dee grinned at Ash. “You can make me a korma!”

“Bugger off,” Ash replied.

“When you go in the kitchen,” Ryan said to Ash. “Second cupboard on the right, up top, there’s a

bunch of stuff that belongs to me, or Ginger, so use whatever you find.”

“Okay.” Ash looked pleased.

“Right, then.” Ryan clamped his hand onto Fizz’s shoulder. “Come on, mate.”

Fizz was too stunned to protest, and found himself led away with Ryan and Ash. Once through the