Dangerous Games

James Butler

Description

Kevin’s older brother Adam has turned into a bad guy since their da died – he and his mates burn out a car they’ve stolen, trash the local community centre, and to cap it all, Kevin finds a gun under the floorboards. And then there’s Uncle Davy, just out of prison and already back to his old habits. When Kevin meets another kid who’s lost his dad, a new friendship forms – but both boys soon find themselves caught up in a seriously dangerous game.

This tightly plotted and absorbing novel follows the story of Kevin – a likeable teenager but unlikely hero – who gets caught in a web of crime and deception. Set in working-class Ireland with true-to-life characters and relationships, this pacy and action-focused book will get any teenage boy reading.

Sujets

• Juvenilee Fiction
• Alex Wheatle
• Melvin Burgess
• Roddy Doyle
• Fiction Jeunesse

Informations

• Publié par: Little Island Books
• Date de parution: 11 avril 2019
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781912417407
• Langue: English

Extrait

DANGEROUS GAMES
First published in 2019 by Little Island Books
7 Kenilworth Park Dublin 6W Ireland
© James Butler 2019
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted or stored in a retrieval system in any form or by any means (including electronic/digital, mechanical, photocopying, scanning, recording or otherwise, by means now known or hereinafter invented) without prior permission in writing from the publisher.
Print ISBN: 978-1-910411-91-9 Ebook (Kindle) ISBN: 978-1-912417-39-1
Ebook (other platforms) ISBN: 978-1-912417-40-7
Text design and typesetting by Tetragon, London Proofread by Emma Dunne
Cover illustration by Paddy Walsh
A British Library Cataloguing in Publication record for this book is available from the British Library.
Little Island receives financial assistance from the Arts Council of Ireland/An Chomhairle Ealaíon.
For Gráinne, Éile and Maebh
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
Author
‘It’s like we’re lying in a giant green frying pan,’ Rory said.
We were on the grassy slope behind one of the goalposts on the bowl-shaped football pitch. I was wearing my short-sleeved Ireland jersey with ‘Kev’ on the back and Rory wore his favourite red T-shirt, the one with the long black sleeves. He had my football under his head as a pillow and I sat next to him, putting on my goalie gloves.
‘Did you know,’ I said, ‘if you put a frog into a pan of hot water, it’ll jump out immediately. But if you put him into a pan of cold water and heat the water slowly, then he’ll just sit in it and boil to death.’
‘How do you know that?’ said Rory.
‘Sully said so, in the community centre last week when he was frying sausages.’
‘Sully is a gas man,’ Rory said, laughing.
‘Yeah,’ I said, gazing up at a straight rope of white smoke that a jet was dragging across the blue sky.
A bee buzzed by Rory’s head. ‘Feck off, bee,’ he said, waving it away.
It was then we heard the squeal of brakes and the noise of a car bumping a footpath. Both of us jumped up. A car roared down the grassy slope at the other end of the pitch and spewed up dust as it shot through the goalposts.
‘It’s Adam!’ Rory cried, as if I didn’t already know.
And Madser and Lunchbox were with him. Who else?
‘He … he sees us?!’ Rory croaked.
‘Yeah, he sees us. He’s just showing off. And whatever you do, don’t run.’
The car seemed to speed up as it headed directly towards where we were standing, so we backed away from the goal.
I could see Adam’s head behind the wheel, his black fringe slicked back and the shades perched on his nose. Lunchbox, the eejit, had his fat bare arse sticking out the back window. Then Adam stuck his head out the driver’s door and pointed a finger to let me know that he’d spotted us.
But he must have had trouble doing two things together, pointing and driving, cos the car lurched suddenly to one side and crashed into one of the goalposts, bending it sideways and causing the crossbar to come crashing down.
Lunchbox dropped backwards from the car like he was making a parachute jump. The car’s engine spluttered and died and all went quiet for a second or two – except for the loud moans coming from Lunchbox who was lying flat on the ground, belly to the sky, his fat hands groping for the waistband of his tracksuit. Me and Rory didn’t move. We just waited and watched.
Madser staggered from the passenger seat with a hand to his bleeding scalp while Adam, inventing a whole new stream of curses, punched the airbag and tried to free himself from the seat belt.
‘Hey, Adam,’ Madser said, laughing, ‘look at the state of Lunchbox!’
Adam jumped from the car and kicked the door shut, then examined the broken sunglasses in his hand and cursed some more before flinging them away. Then he turned towards me. He had that mean, glassy look in his eyes that meant he’d been taking stronger stuff than just his usual cans.
‘You’d better not be laughing at me, Short Arse.’
‘I’m laughing at Lunchbox,’ I yelled.
Madser was prodding at Lunchbox’s jelly belly with the tip of his runner like you’d prod at something on the beach to see if it was still alive.
‘Dumbo, I told you to wear your seat belt!’
‘I think he was wearing it … before he broke it,’ Adam said.
The two of them laughed like hyenas. They looked like hyenas too the way they were circling Lunchbox.
While they were teasing Lunchbox like that, me and Rory went over to inspect the car. It was a silver Volkswagen Golf just a year old. Pasted on the back inside window was a sticker edged with bright red and orange flames that said ‘Red Devils For Ever’.
I clicked open the boot and was about to peer in when Adam’s rough hand grabbed me by the shoulder.
‘Whatya think you’re doin’, Short Arse?’
‘I’m just having a look. OK?’
‘It’s not OK. It’s my car. So get lost!’
‘I thought you promised Ma you wouldn’t do this crap any more.’
‘Why don’t you run home to her so? Short Arse!’
I kicked out at Adam’s leg, but he batted my kick away and sniggered.
‘Ah – little mammy’s boy doesn’t like his name.’
‘Hey, Adam,’ Rory called.
Adam turned and stared at Rory like he’d forgotten there were two of us. ‘It’s your Kev’s birthday today.’
‘It’s your birthday?’ he said, turning to me, his eyes crazy blinking like he’d been woken from a spell.
‘Yeah. I’m fourteen.’
‘Hey! I don’t feel too good!’ Lunchbox cried, clinging onto the base of the goalpost like he was lost at sea.
‘Serves you right for sticking your fat arse out the window,’ Adam said.
‘He had to stick it out cos he was stinking up the car,’ sneered Madser.
They both laughed once more like they were hilarious, then Adam moved to the boot and peered in.
‘It’s all football crap,’ he complained and pulled a pile of neatly stacked red cones out and flung them aside. Next he pulled out a black plastic binbag and emptied it onto the grass. Football training bibs spilled out and he kicked them apart so they scattered in all directions. He rooted once more and found a kitbag. He unzipped it quickly, poked at it, then flung the bag on the ground beside where I was standing.
‘Football crap. All useless football crap.’
He took out two corner flagpoles and chucked them too close to the shaking Lunchbox. Then he found a large plastic box and he ripped off the lid. The box was full of files like you’d get in a school office. Adam threw them over his shoulder, letting the papers go wherever the breeze blew them. Madser was rooting around over beside him and found a pair of binoculars. He held them up to his eyes.
‘Hey. Where’s everything gone?’ he cried.
‘You’re looking through the wrong end, ya dozy eejit.’ Adam grabbed them.
‘Hey! They’re mine, Adam.’
‘Who got the best stuff the last time? You did! Now it’s my turn. OK?’
Adam didn’t wait for Madser to agree. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Let’s get outta here.’
They turned and, putting their hoods up, walked off.
‘What about me?’ Lunchbox shouted after them. ‘What about me?’ He groaned and took one of the flagpoles and, using it like a crutch, got himself to his feet and followed them.
Rory was over at the back of the car gathering together the files and turning pages. ‘Look, Kev, this is all to do with money stuff … like a business. And I found two cheque books.’ I peered at the two little books in his hand, not sure what he was talking about. ‘And look,’ Rory went on, ‘the guy who owns the car is called Peter McCormack. His name and address are written on everything. I bet he’d give us a reward if we rang him and told him we have his stuff.’
‘Yeah, and he’d ring the guards as soon as you were off the phone.’
‘I’m gonna keep the stuff anyway. Like, cheques are money – maybe we could make some easy cash.’
He grabbed the empty binbag and began throwing files into it. I had a look at the kitbag that Adam had thrown aside. I took off my goalie gloves and dipped my hand in. I pulled out a pair of new football boots.
‘Hey, Rory! Look.’
‘Deadly!’ Rory cried and then went back to bagging the files.
I put my hand in again and this time I found a pair of socks and shorts, and a brand new Man United jersey that had the name Conor written on the back of it. I held it up to show Rory. It was my size exactly.
‘Hey, very nice of Adam to leave it, wasn’t it?’ I said. Rory came over beside me and examined the jersey a little more closely.
‘Conor! Nobody called that plays for United. That must be the name of the fella who owns it. Hey, maybe you shouldn’t wear it, Kev. Like, you know, just in case someone spots it on you.’
He went to tie up the black sack while I rummaged at the bottom of the kitbag. The only thing left in it was a little leather wallet with the Man United crest on it. I pulled it open but it didn’t have any cash in it – only a photo. I pinched it out of its pocket and had a look at it. The photo was of a boy and a man together. The boy looked a bit like me and they were standing outside Old Trafford, cos I could see the sign. The man had his arm around the boy like a hug and they were both smiling.
‘Hey, look what else I found!’ Rory cried, holding up a new leather football. Then he saw the wallet.
‘What’s that?’
‘Nothing,’ I said. And when his back was turned I slid the photo back inside and then stuck the wallet in my pocket. ‘Come on, Rory, let’s go to my house and we’ll look through everything there. Then we can decide what to keep.’
‘Yeah!’ Rory said, tucking the black bag under his arm. Then he stopped suddenly and peered up at the hills that rose towards the sky at the back of the estate.
‘Your Adam would want to be careful all the same.’
‘Why?’
‘Cos someone might do a job on him up in those hills like they did to Cokey Mulligan.’
‘Vig