Hi everyone! Have a lot of work on at the mo, but am managing to find little bits of time to sate my addiction XD


The Elm tree's mass of dark green leaves flittered in the breeze above me on branches stretching for 20 feet at either side. And tucked up close to the trunk on its fattest and lowest branch was a small, rugged construction of planks and corrugated tin. Chris's treehouse.

The secluded spot is perfect for a boy's secret hideaway. The treehouse is the only dwelling on the lot which is a wilderness of long grasses and scraggy shrubs. And although one might catch a glimpse of the treehouse from the industrial buildings down the bank, it is tucked so deep into the elm that you would really need to be told about it into order to know it was there.

Chris told me that he and his friends had scavenged all the planks from a scrapheap in a building supplies place, and that they had swiped the corrugated tin from Milo's junkyard when he and his dog Chopper weren't there. I marveled at how much work they must have done just to get those materials up there. They either had to slog it up the bank, or slog it up the rudimentary dirt road that led to the lot. And then there would have been the building of it. I could almost hear the chattering of boys and the hammering of nails into wood as I stood proudly in front of the finished work.

"Chris, are you up there?" I called out.

Sudden movement in one of the windows caught my eye, but the glass was so grimy that I couldn't make out who it was. Hinges creaked as the trapdoor lifted into the belly of the treehouse, and a pair of dusty, white runners stamped down the rungs. Chris jumped off the third and folded his arms as he gave me a faint smile.

He has bulked out in the last couple of months. There is a noticeable roundness to his shoulders and upper arms, and his T-shirt looks tighter fitting against his broadened chest. His physique is starting to remind me of his cousin's.

"Are you OK?" I asked.

"Yeah," Chris said, his voice with a light husk - another thing about him that reminds me of his cousin.

"I'm sorry. Really sorry. You shouldn't have had to go through that. And I shouldn't have left you there alone. I should've-"

"Just forget it," Chris sighed, jamming his thumbs into the back of his jeans. "Keith sorted everything."

"I know. Well... I don't know what he did. He won't tell me. Do you know?"

Chris gazed around the lot, his eyes scouting the bushy perimeter. Then he looked to the treehouse above him before setting his eyes back on me.

"Is it true you're done with Ace?"

I looked out over the industrial buildings down the bank, watching the many men down there all busily working hard to earn an honest living.

"Cass?"

"It's more like... he's done with me."

Chris's gaze faltered.

"You're probably disappointed in me," I said.

"Not disappointed. Surprised, maybe. Stealing, hangin' 'round with those douche bags - it's not you."

At the mention of the word 'stealing', my eyes darted around the lot, paranoid that anyone could be hiding in the bushes. "Here's not the place to be talkin 'bout that stuff. Do you wanna come back to Natalie's and Eyeball's? I mean... my old place. They're not there. Well, actually... I guess it will be my place again now too... if they'll have me..."

"I got study to do. I got no time to go somewhere."

"Oh... fair enough."

"Look - the clubhouse has a 'no girls' rule, but you're older so... let's just say you don't count."

"You want me to go up there?"

"Well, it smells like socks and cigarettes, but we ain't started building the five star hotel we been plannin'."

I chuckled. "Sorry, Chris. I didn't mean... it's just... it's been a while since I sat in a treehouse."

"Oh, come on, Cass." He walked up to me and wrapped a confident arm around my shoulders to lead me back to the ladder. Dejavu hit me, then, with the time his brother made me walk into Irby's when I didn't want to see Ace. And damn, in a couple of years, Chris will be as big as Eyeball, I'm sure.

Chris's dusty white runners stamped up the rungs, and he disappeared bit by bit up through the trapdoor hole.

What the hell.

I climbed after him, and gripped the edges of the floorboards to haul myself up through the hole.

"Oh wow, this is awesome in here, Chris!" At first view, I saw a wide open window, little shelves with various knickknacks and things to do, stacks of magazines, a table, chairs, posters of cars and superheroes on the walls which made it homely - they had everything a kid might need to keep himself occupied.

Chris sat on a small barrel as I excitedly finished the climb. I stood aside, bent double - so I wouldn't knock my head against the layer of tin above me - as he lowered the trap-door on its hinges.

It didn't smell like socks up there. Old pine stained with the aroma of cigarettes, yes, but any temporary bad smells would float right out the large window that was not glass, but a rolled up tarpaulin. The fresh breeze brushed my face as I put my head through the wide hole and peered through the elm's leaves at the peaceful view of the hills and the buildings down the bank below.

"Take a seat," he gestured at a low tri-stool opposite him.

I crouched on the tiny stool, my knees coming halfway to my chest. "I'm impressed," I said, still looking around. "I mean, I assume it's weather tight, and this window is genius."

"We built it when we were ten. It gets smaller in here every year."

"Yep, you've had a growth spurt, haven't you?" I laughed, reaching forward to mess with his hair. His blonde strands had lengthened since I last saw him; his fringe was nearly at his eyebrows like it hadn't seen the clippers in a while. "Are you 16 yet?"

He laughed. "You're so full of shit. You know I'm only thirteen. And a half."

"What?! But you look 16! And I'm sure it's been at least two years since I saw you last."

Chris's smiled pulled into a soft smirk. "Yeah, it's been a long few months, huh?"

"Yeah."

He sat a table between us that was two beer crates nailed together in a T-shape, and opened a hidden compartment to pull out a packet of Winston's. "You want?" he asked, holding out the pack.

"Thought you said you're not 16 yet..."

"What? Everybody smokes."

"I don't. And I don't think I've ever seen Keith either."

"Let's not talk about the shit he smokes..." he chuckled.

"I read cigarettes give you some kind of disgusting lung disease."

"Well, I read alcohol eats your stomach and gives you brain damage."

"It does not!" I laughed. "I drink and there's nothing wrong with me."

"Nothing wrong me with me neither." Chris lit up and took a long, deep drag and then blew a stream of smoke up at the low ceiling, engulfing us in a cloud.

"What else you been reading?" He had a couple of books open with some study notes on the other sofa, and I snatched one up to examine the cover. "Advanced Algebraic Concepts..."

"That shit does my head in, but I'm gettin' through it."

"You're still doing good at school then?"

"Yeah - I signed up for the college courses."

"You did it?" I said wide-eyed, and I slapped him on the arm. "You'll do brilliantly. I know you will."

"My old man's not so happy 'bout it. Thinks I only wanna go to college to make him broke. Like he's not already. But, I'll get a job. I ain't relying on anyone, especially him."

"I've met your old man a couple of times now. He thinks I'm a social worker who's out to get him."

"He thinks everyone's out to get him."

"Yeah... he seems to have a few issues."

"He's an abusive alcoholic with no friends and a family who hates him," he shrugged. "He's got more than a few. You see, I don't even need to read that the drink's bad for you - I see it every day, first-hand."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Hey, Cass..."

"Yeah?"

"Are you still leaving?"

I broke eye contact and leaned into my lap, hugging my knees. "I don't know. Maybe getting out of this town would be the best thing for me. I only came back for you and, luckily, you're... OK. Somehow."

"Keith won't tell you 'cause he doesn't want you feeling like you owe him back."

"I do anyway."

Chris sighed before inhaling a good load of tar into his lungs.

"Come on, Chris. Please?"

"I just think, if Keith don't wanna tell you, he has his reasons."

I stared at him for a moment. "Don't make me sing that annoying song you hate."

"What song?"

"Alley oop oop, oop, oop oop!"

"Ohh - fuck you..."

"ALLEY OOP OOP, OOP, OOP OOP!" I leaned across the table and got in his face, wiggling my hips for emphasis. "ALLEY OOP OOP, OOP, OOP OOP!"

"Fuck off, Cassie - I'm not kidding-"

"And he can KNUCKLE YOUR HEAD before you count to four. ALLEY OOP OOP, OOP, OOP OOP!" I playfully rubbed my knuckles into his scalp (not hard) on the 'knuckle your head' bit.

"OK! OK!" he said, batting my hands away, and I smirked, taking my stool again. "Jesus - now I'll have that song in my head for a week!"

"Sorry, Chris," I laughed. "That was cruel, wasn't it? Man, I'll have to use that on Vince sometime..."

Chris took another lungful and blew out towards the window, but the smoke still curled around us.

"Look," I said more seriously, "what happened last night, it could have some serious repercussions. And I can't just forget about it until I know how it was resolved and until I know for sure that nothing will come back and bite us."

Chris stubbed the smoke out in an ashtray. "I don't know everything. All I know is, Keith got to Mr. Watkins right before he talked to the cops, and he paid him to keep his mouth shut."

"What... to pay for the car? In the hope it'll take everything back like it never happened? How much did he give him?"

"I dunno. He made me wait outside. But, I think it was a lot."

I sighed and rubbed my eyes with my fingers.

"What's the matter?" Chris asked.

"Let's just talk about something else. This is a conversation I should be having with Keith, not you."

"You don't think it's enough, do you?"

"I don't know," I shrugged. "I hope so."

"What do you think he should've done instead? Held a knife to his throat? Threatened him? Threatened his family? You think he should've done it like Ace woulda?"

"You don't know how Ace woulda handled that. He's not all about violence; he plays things smart. And sure, if the smart thing is to make people scared of you, then-"

"Not all about violence, huh?" Chris said, his eyes narrowing real serious. "There's reasons why kids run when they see him coming in the street. He's been beating on me since I could walk, and he even tried to kill me that one time out on the back Harlow Road."

"But... Chris... what did you say to him before he came at you? I heard you insulted his mother. If what you say about him is true - if he's nothin' but a violent guy, and you know that - don't you think saying that was a tad risky?"

"Yeah," he shrugged. "But I didn't care. I'm sick of letting shit slide - you know, Cass? It's always me who's gotta turn the other cheek and walk away while Ace and his chums can do whatever the fuck they want to us. You know what Ace did the day before? He stole a hat from Gordie. It was real important to him; his brother gave it to him just before he died. Well, Ace snatched that hat right off his head and Gordie never saw it again. And for what? We was just walkin' along the path. We didn't do nothin'..."

"He really did that? I'm so sorry."

"Yeah. And so, when Ace tried to take that body from us, I thought, fuck it. We had to make a stand. We walked two days to find him, and Ace and his assholes walked two minutes from their cars and tried to take him. Fuck them, Cass. He was ours."

"Did you say... a body? Like... a dead body? That's what you were all fighting over?"

Chris nodded.

"Eww."

"It wasn't just a body to us. Finding that kid... it was supposed to change our lives. We thought, if we found him, folks would look at us different, you know? Like, we coulda been heroes not lowlifes. I just wanted to be someone else. And I couldn't let Ace steal that chance from me."

"Chris, that's not the way to be a hero - you know that, right?"

"You think I should've let them take him?"

"Maybe?"

"Nah. I gotta start standing up to them. They've pushed us around for too long."

A rapid knock from under the trapdoor at our feet made me jump.

"Who is it?" Chris called.

"It's me," came a muffled voice from below.

"It's Gordie," Chris said. He moved the table to one side before hauling up the trapdoor to reveal Gordie's slim face and dark hair.

"Oh... Hey Cassie..." he said, looking a little stunned at my presence as he rose higher through the hole.

"Hey. Long time no see."

Gordie took a seat on the sofa adjacent to mine as Chris closed the hatch and pulled the table back over.

"What's goin' on?" Gordie asked, his wise eyes shifting between Chris and I.

"Nothin'," Chris said. "You wanna play Gin?"

"OK."

Chris reached up to a small shelf to grab a deck of cards. "You want in, Cass?" he asked as he shuffled.

"No, I think I should go."

Suddenly, there was another knock on the trapdoor at our feet in the exact same sequence as Gordie's.

"Who is it?" Chris called out.

"Teddy," came a muffled reply.

Now I felt really awkward about being there. Chris moved the table again and pulled up the hatch, and a mop of dark blond hair surfaced through the hole in the floor. His jaw dropped slightly when he saw me sitting there, and his eyes were wide as he gaped at me through his thick-rimmed glasses.

"Jesus," he said. "The enemy has infiltrated the building."

Chris and Gordie exchanged a glance before chuckling between them. The face in the floor peered up at them, clearly dismayed that they were finding this so funny. "Chris!" he stressed, rapidly climbing two more rungs. "Don't you know who this is? This is Ace Merrill's girlfriend! You can't let her in here! What if she's here to spy on us? What if she goes back to them with top secret information about our location!"

"Teddy! Hurry up!" cried another voice from below. "Don't wanna stare at your ass forever, you know!"

"Vern..." chimed Chris and Gordie.

Teddy, still clearly unhappy about this intruder invading his secret sanctuary, climbed out of the hole and sat on an old chair next to me. A cute, chubby kid then poked his head up through the floor and didn't seem to notice me as he plonked himself down on a beer crate in the corner next to Chris.

Vern. Billy's brother. The kid who's down a jar of pennies. A story Ace told me a while ago.

"You guys are not gonna believe what I saw this morning," Vern said, eyes wide, barely able to contain his excitement. He finally laid eyes on me, and his cheery grin deflated. "Who's... who's... that?" he stuttered quietly to Chris, pointing a finger at me.

"That's Ace Merrill's girlfriend," huffed Teddy.

"I'm not..." I muttered.

"Ace Merrill... as in, Billy's friend?"

"Yeah. As in your brother Billy's friend," Teddy rolled his eyes at him.

"Oh shit..." Vern suddenly bolted up out of his seat.

"Vern, where are you going?" sighed Chris.

"Getting' outta here, what does it look like? I don't like this. Sincerely."

"That's exactly what I said!" Teddy reacted, throwing his hands in the air.

"Vern, sit down," I sighed. "You've got nothing to worry about."

"Nothin' to worry about?" exclaimed Teddy, throwing his hands in the air again. "How can you say that? That guy pulled a knife on Chris. He beat the piss outta Gordie. If those guys find this place, they'll probably burn it down. Probably burn it after locking us in. Probably-"

"Teddy! Just shut up, Goddammit!" interrupted Chris.

Teddy stared hard at me, his eyes narrowing and his bottom lip pouting with animosity while Vern's chubby face darted between us throughout the commotion.

"I'm gonna go," I said. "See you 'round, Chris."

Just as I reached for the trapdoor, the sound of a V8 came roaring up into the lot before it slid to a snaky stop. The dull thud of a door being slammed closed could be heard before a familiar voice speared up into the room, piercing the air like a pikestaff.

"Cassie! Get down here! NOW!"


Have had a LOT of encouraging messages lately, and I'm so touched that people are enjoying this as much as I am!