mum from?”

Ash’s smile faded. “Mum was English. Paler than you, even. She died a few years ago.”

Fizz winced, hating himself for ever asking the question. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Ash looked at him and smiled.

This time, Fizz didn’t look away. He searched those dark eyes. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-one,” Ash told him. “I’m in my second year of Uni. How about you?”

“Huh?”

“How old are you?”

“Oh.” Fizz tried to ignore the heat creeping up his face. “Twenty. I – I never went to...I mean, I

never finished school.”

A look of concern passed over Ash’s face. “Oh, right.”

Fizz looked away, more embarrassed than he ever remembered feeling in his life. He hated

admitting to not finishing school. Why had he even said anything? He didn’t want anyone – least of all

someone like Ash – to know how utterly useless he was.

Ash shrugged. “School is over rated anyway. Don’t know about yours, but the school I went to was

proper rubbish. The other kids mucked about so much, I swear our teachers gave up. I didn’t learn

anything decent until I went to college.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, totally. So many of us failed the exams. Guess we weren’t paying much attention, to be fair.

When we got to college, loads of us had to retake stuff.”

“Like what?”

“Oh, the basics. Maths, English, Science.” Ash absently traced the rim of flaking window pane with

his finger. “I know he’s older than us, but did you know Ryan failed most of his exams too? And he

didn’t go to college either, he just jumped straight into work. Look at him now, working his way up

the ladder here. Although –” He grinned. “ –between you and me, I think Ryan would do any job

going, so long as he was close to you know who.”

“Oh, right. Does Ryan – I mean, are you sure he likes Dan that way?”

Ash just kept smiling at him. Fizz had to look away. He was suddenly very aware of a warm flush

stealing over his whole body, and the fact that he was alone with Ash.

“Look out there.” Ash pointed at the window, distracting him. Fizz looked, then froze in panic as

Ash moved his body to stand next to him. Ash pressed his finger to the window, pointing at something

in the distance, as he dipped his face near to Fizz’s. “See out there?” he said. “That contraption on the

skyline, the one that looks like a giant jack hammer?”

Fizz tried to stay calm. He looked to where Ash was pointing. He’d forgotten to breathe, and had to

quickly suck in a breath. “Um, where?”

Ash moved his head slightly lower, to see from Fizz’s height. He adjusted his finger on the window.

“That tall one there. Over the top of the pier domes. See it?”

Fizz followed with his eyes, focussing past the decorated points of the Palace Pier. Sure enough,

there was something that looked like a giant jack hammer, or a crane, behind the domes.

“I don’t know if you’ve been on it yet,” Ash said. “But that ride kinda flings people up and down,

like a giant slingshot. The whole pier jerks a bit when it does that.”

“I – I haven’t been on the pier.”

Ash moved back slightly to blink at him. “What, never?”

Fizz shook his head. Those dark eyes trapped him again. Even though the panic danced in his belly,

he found he couldn’t look away.

“The pier’s amazing.” Ash said. “Well, I mean, it’s kinda lame with all the kiddie rides and the

arcade full of morons...but apart from that, it’s got great views, and the best hot donuts ever in the

history of all mankind!”

Fizz wondered how to tell Ash that he’d never be able to set foot near the pier, let alone walk on it.

All those people. The thought terrified him. But the way Ash looked at him now made him feel awful

for even thinking like a defeatist. In his mind’s eye, Fizz saw himself walking along the pier with Ash.

Maybe, he thought. Maybe –

“Fizz, there you are.” A familiar voice broke into his thoughts. Fizz whipped around, almost

stumbling against the window. Ash grabbed his arm to steady him. Ginger was at the door, eyeing

them both. “What are you doing?”

“Just checking out the view,” Ash said casually. “Fizz hadn’t seen it yet.”

“Hm.” Ginger frowned in response. “Fizz, I’m going to the kitchen to get a roast. Go wait upstairs,

and I’ll bring one up for you, too.”

Fizz’s heart sank. “Okay,” he said quietly. Ash’s fingers released his arm, allowing him to step

down on his own. Fizz kept his face lowered as he hurried past Ginger, then lingered at the door. He

hoped Ash wasn’t in too much trouble.

“Come on, Ash,” Ginger said, a touch of annoyance in his voice. “Get back downstairs. I’m sure the

others are missing you.”

“Oh, always,” Ash quipped, getting down from the window. He didn’t hang around, clearly wary of

getting on Ginger’s nerves. He hurried away, flicking one last, conspiratory look at Fizz before he left.

Chapter Ten

They were supposed to be having a rehearsal, but all they’d done for the last hour was bicker. Ryan

wasn’t sure he could take much more of this. He hadn’t been sleeping well lately. When he eventually

did manage to get to sleep, his dreams left him in knots of tension. In his last one, he’d actually told

Ginger how he felt. The answer he’d received was a bland and uncaring, “What do you expect me to do

about it?” Ryan woke in a panic, resolving once again to never, ever breathe a word of his crush to

anyone. Least of all Ginger.

It would fade in time, he kept telling himself. It wasn’t worth losing their friendship over.

Was it?

Ryan was dragged away from his endless agonizing as the bickering stepped up a notch. Dee and

Ash were having a disagreement over the cover songs in their set. The set which currently consisted of

only three original songs, and not all that brilliant either, in Ryan’s opinion. He’d already suggested

they keep practising, but Dee really wanted to play Sunday Slam.

Ash had agreed with Ryan, and said it was too soon to play live. Glen obviously didn’t care either

way, and never bothered stating his views. Even now, he wasn’t paying attention to the argument, and

fiddled with his drumsticks.

“If we mix two songs together, no one will know it’s a cover,” Dee said, yet again.

Ash rolled his eyes. “Or we could hurry up writing our own songs, so we don’t come off looking

and sounding like a bunch of idiots.”

Glen yawned. Ryan pulled the guitar strap over his head and placed his guitar back in its stand.

“Shall we call it a day? I’ve got a headache.”

“Yeah, me too,” Ash said.

Everyone agreed, and downed tools. Glen stood up from his drum kit and stretched. Dee was still

wittering away about cover songs, insisting that no one would notice if they merged two songs

together.

Ryan’s shoes crunched on something. He glanced down, remembering the mess of sand from Dee’s

not-that-great egg boxes idea. Dee’s plan for sound proofing hadn’t worked, surprise, surprise. The

egg boxes were still stapled to the wall, the sand having simply poured out of them. At the time, Ryan

had laughed heartily, especially as Dee had been proved wrong. Now, he was annoyed because he

knew who’d get stuck cleaning all that sand away.

“I still want to cover Let’s Go To Hell,” Ash announced.

“No,” Dee said flatly.

Ash gave him a level look. “What do you mean, no? Who died and made you king of the band?”

Ryan bit his lip. Those two were obviously determined to have a spat today. The question was, did

he let them get on with it, or step in? It seemed bad tempers had been brewing since they’d entered the

pigeon loft over three hours ago.

“We’re not covering Backyard Babies,” Dee said.