Ash stared at him incredulously. “Why the hell not?”

“Only girls listen to Backyard Babies,” Dee retorted.

“In case you weren’t aware, Dee, girls make up half the audience at Sunday Slam,” Ash said.

“Sometimes more.”

“Yeah, thank God.” Glen smirked, obviously pleased with that statistic. “Who wants to play to a

room full of fellas?”

Dee chuckled, and looked pointedly at Ash.

Ash’s eyes narrowed. “You got something to say to me, Douglas?”

Dee frowned at the mention of his real name. “No. Ashwari tikka masala.”

“Come on, guys,” Ryan urged. He placed a hand on Ash’s shoulder. “Let’s go have a drink, yeah?”

Ash didn’t take his eyes off Dee. “No. Not before Douglas explains why we can’t cover my

favourite band, seeing as we’re already covering two songs from his choice of boring old punk bands.”

“Boring?” Dee flung his bass down into its stand, where it rocked back against the wall. “You just

don’t get it, mate. Punk goes straight over your head!”

“Excuse you,” Ash snapped. “But I think you’ll find that your version of punk is old and outdated.”

“Fuck you!” Dee sprang forward, fists waving.

“Guys!” Ryan leapt in between them before they could connect, pushing them apart. “Glen, do

something!”

Glen pulled Dee away, while Ryan stayed in the middle and held onto Ash. Luckily, it was only a

half-hearted scuffle, and easy enough to break up. Quite lame, really, Ryan thought to himself. He

stood in the centre, holding his hands out to both parties to instil some calm. “Guys, we’re friends.

This is really stupid to argue over. Let’s just calm down, okay?”

Dee seemed bewildered, and blinked several times. “Sorry, mate. I – I don’t know what got into

me.”

“Me neither,” Ash muttered. “I’ve got such a headache.”

It’s the room, Ryan thought. The room was too stuffy. Even though it was a windy, cool day

outside, there was just something about this damn room.

“Let’s go downstairs,” Ryan suggested. “We can annoy Pete for a while.”

The others mumbled in agreement. Dee and Ash awkwardly apologised to each other, then everyone

slowly filed out. Ryan made sure he kept himself between Dee and Ash, just in case. They’d only ever

come to blows once before, and that was when they’d both been very, very drunk.

Ash hung back, stopping at Fizz’s door.

Ryan noticed, and he herded Dee and Glen out of the hall, trying to give Ash some space. Halfway

down the stairs, he was surprised when Ash caught up to them. “Didn’t think you were coming,” Ryan

said quietly. Dee and Glen were further down the stairs, chatting away normally.

Indeed, it felt like the air became lighter the further they got from the pigeon loft.

“Um, I was just checking with Fizz,” Ash replied.

“Yeah, and?”

“And...we were gonna watch a movie, maybe tomorrow night.”

“I see.” Ryan tried not to smile. “You can watch it on my TV if you want. Unless you want to brave

the living room where Matt will pop in and drone on about recipes, or his Kung Fu class.”

Ash chuckled. “Your room would be cool, thanks. Actually, I was going to ask you to check the

rota.”

“Rota?”

“Yeah...um, is Ginger working tomorrow evening?”

“Yes, he is.” Ryan smiled slyly. “But if you can bear to wait until Wednesday, he’s working the

evening shift with me and Sammy, as it’s student night. So you’re less likely to be...disturbed by

anyone.”

“Hah, okay.” Ash shook his head with a smile. “Wednesday it is. Um...I don’t have Fizz’s number

to tell him though?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell him later. I’m sure he won’t mind what day it is. And hanging out will be

good. Ginger’s been breathing down his neck far too much. It’ll be good for the kid to have some

space.”

Ash shot him a knowing look. “Yeah, yeah. You know, you’d make a good match-maker, Ry.

Maybe you should put some of this devious plotting to your own good use sometime?”

Ryan was brought up short. “Wh-What do you mean?”

Ash rolled his eyes. “One day, Ry,” was all he said.

Ryan frowned.

One day.

Yeah, he kinda doubted that.

* * *

“What’s wrong?” Ginger asked.

Fizz tried to look innocent, but he was worried that the word guilty flashed in neon above his head.

“N-nothing,” he mumbled. He pretended to finish his dinner, pushing the food around his plate.

Ginger had finished his own dinner, and was eyeing him suspiciously. “Do you want to do some

glass collecting tonight?”

Fizz tried – and failed – to stay calm. “I – I can’t, I – I...”

“But you’ve been doing so well,” Ginger said.

He thinks I’m worried about going downstairs on a busy night, Fizz realised. “No, I mean, it’s not

that. But I – I’ll do it if you want me to.”

Ginger gave him a look, saying with his eyes: that’s not the point. Fizz focussed on his dinner,

poking it with his fork. Ginger sighed. “Okay, if you want to come down later, we’ll be there. I just

don’t want you moping about up here on your own all the time.”

Fizz nodded his head. “I’ll be okay.”

“I do hope so, Jamie.”

Fizz tried not to flinch at the sound of his name. He knew Ginger only used it when he wanted to

drive home whatever point he was making.

Ginger stood, and dumped his plate on the worktop. “I’ve gotta go downstairs. Ryan and Sammy are

already there. You sure you’ll be okay?”

Fizz wasn’t sure, but he told Ginger, yes, he would. Reluctantly, Ginger left him alone. Fizz

breathed a sigh of relief. He abandoned his half eaten dinner, tidying it away, and wandered upstairs.

Only a few minutes later, he wandered back down to the kitchen, restless. He looked up at the Misfits

skull-face clock. Six forty-five.

Ash said he’d be over at seven. Fizz felt dread settle in his stomach. Just because someone said they

were coming, didn’t mean they were. He probably wouldn’t show up, would he? Fizz panicked in near

silence, ignoring the icy touch on his neck and the soft words in his head.

He meandered up the stairs, then gave himself and Rachel a fright when they both rounded a corner

at the same time. After recovering from the surprise, Rachel said she and Pete were just settling into

the living room to watch a DVD. She invited him to join them, but Pete’s pointed look over Rachel’s

shoulder definitely uninvited him.

Fizz noticed they had a bunch of horror DVDs neatly stacked on the coffee table. Oh, God, not

horror. He quickly made his excuses and left. On his return trip down the stairs, Fizz heard voices.

Leaning over the bannister, his heart almost stopped when he saw Ash with Ryan.

“Hey.” Ash smiled up at him

“Hey, Fizz.” Ryan smirked rather than smiled. They both carried bulging plastic bags. Ryan led the

way, walking past the kitchen, and along to his own bedroom.

“What’s in those?” Fizz asked, trailing behind them.

“DVDs,” Ash said. “And, er...pudding.”

“Pudding?”

“Yeah, I left just after dinner.” He flashed Fizz a smile. “You can’t leave an Indian home without

food being thrust at you left, right, and centre. My sisters made way too much. It’s just mithai and

kulfi.”

“Huh?”

“Sweets and ice cream,” Ryan translated. “Save some for me, yeah?”

“We’ll try,” Ash said. “No promises.”

The boys set down their bags in Ryan’s room. Fizz hovered, not sure what to do. He was grateful for

Ryan’s presence for the moment, so he could melt into the background without any focus on himself.

He took the opportunity to look around. Ryan’s room wasn’t exceptionally tidy, but it wasn’t messy

either. It smelled clean, at least.

The room was reasonably large, however there wasn’t anywhere to sit except for Ryan’s bed, or the