They stopped at the railing, leaning over the side to watch a boat in the distance. Ash stood next to

him, resting his zebra on the railing with his arm over it. Fizz snickered at the sight.

“What?” Ash asked, in all seriousness. Fizz didn’t miss the twinkle in his dark eyes. “Something

funny?”

“Nope.”

“Liar.”

“Yep.”

They laughed, then an excited kind of quiet fell over them just as quickly. To hide his nerves, Fizz

looked away, at the water crashing away far below. He fought for something to say, and said the first

thing that popped into his head. “If this were, like, a Bollywood movie or something, wouldn’t this be

a great place to do a song?”

When Ash didn’t respond immediately, Fizz worried he’d said the wrong thing. He glanced up,

seeing an amused smile on Ash’s face. “I knew I’d convert you.”

“Huh?”

“To Bollywood.”

“Oh.” Fizz was relieved. “Sure. Um, sorry, I just thought...it would be a cool place for a song.”

“I agree.” Ash lifted the zebra, thrusting it at Fizz. “The whole pier would be full of dancers!” He

flung his arms out, gesturing at the board walk. “Lights, camera, action!”

Fizz laughed, holding the zebra as he followed Ash. “I liked those scenes with the coloured powder

being thrown about. What was that?”

“Oh, that’s for Holi,” Ash said. “Festival of colour. Everyone chucks scented powder at each other.

It’s for the spring.”

“Looks cool.”

“Yeah.”

They walked back along the pier, falling into companionable quiet.

“So...” Fizz bumped the zebra against Ash, returning it to him. “Guess I should head back.”

“Yeah, probably should. I’ll walk you back, I have to go past that way.”

Fizz didn’t want to leave Ash, but it couldn’t be avoided. The sky was growing darker, and the

street lights had come on. Ash said he had to get home for dinner, and do some studying. Fizz didn’t

want to keep him from that.

Cars hooted at each other as they thundered past on the road, their headlights moving fast. The

Queen Anne’s Revenge was lit up, a soft beacon of home, Fizz thought. His home.

Ash dropped him off at the side door. The distant hub of the beer garden was close, but hidden from

view, they were mostly alone. Ash shifted on the spot, smiling nervously as he offered the zebra to

Fizz. “Hey, look, why don’t you keep this for me? I mean, you won it after all.”

“It was for you.” Fizz teased, pushing the zebra back.

Ash chuckled. “Yeah, but I don’t particularly want to get beaten up for carrying a soft toy down

London Road. Look after it for me?”

Relenting, Fizz took the zebra. “Okay. I’ll keep it safe.”

“Yeah, you do that.”

Fizz waited, wondering what would happen next. His heart beat anxiously. The moment was broken,

however, by the front door of the pub opening with a slam, and Pete marching a rather drunk patron

out onto the pavement.

“When I say you’ve had enough –!” Pete barked at the drunk man, who flailed in response.

A couple more regulars followed through the door, to point and jeer, by the looks of it. Fizz sighed.

Likely, Ginger wouldn’t be far behind, and he’d rather not have to put Ash through a potentially

awkward situation. Especially holding a giant toy zebra.

“I’d better go,” he muttered, about to duck into the courtyard. He’d have to sneak through the beer

garden, and hope Ginger didn’t notice him.

“Hey, um, Jamie?” Ash caught his hand.

Fizz paused, looking back at Ash. “Yeah?”

“We’re, um, I mean, my band is playing here on Sunday.” Ash’s fingers squeezed Fizz’s hand as he

babbled. “I haven’t told my dad or anything; we’re keeping it quiet. Which is just as well, ‘cause we

probably suck something rotten...but...um, are you around? Don’t know if it’s your sort of music

though?”

Fizz grinned, and squeezed Ash’s hand before letting go. “I’ll be there.”

End

About The Author

A picture is worth a thousand words, but a long time ago Melanie realised she couldn’t draw for

shit, so she chose to write instead. Thank you for reading one of her stories. To view her full list of

books and free reads, please visit her website

www.melanietushmore.co.uk

Acknowledgements

Some stories are written because they have to come out. This story was written for myself, because

I had to and, once finished, it may never had seen the light of day, had it not been for those who

cheered its corner, and wanted to read more. To everyone who has helped me along with this story,

and asked to read it, I can’t thank you enough.

Jade, Katy, Anna.

For my friends in Brighton – you know who you are! – there aren’t words to describe how much

you mean to me, and this story wouldn’t exist without you. Things may change, beyond our control,

but I hope that we can always be assured that our friendship and – yes, I’m going to use the L word! –

love, will endure.

In parting, I feel the need to state: punks certainly aren’t allowed to drink fancy-pants coffee.