The last stage of the race was suspense all the way. The two of them overtook the first three, jostling for the lead. Alex was losing headway, the boy trying to take him on the inside, but Alex’s elbows kept him back. His heart was bursting, his brains about to explode. He had no energy left, he had used his final reserves on that last push... He could almost feel the breath of the runner behind him, the thud of the boy’s feet almost on his heels... ‘Bastard motherfucking bastard...’
Barker was shouting, banging on the dashboard, ‘Run, Stubbs, you’re there... Run!’
The sports master was panting as if he had run the race himself. He had a sickening feeling that their boy was going to be pipped at the post. ‘He’s not going to make it, he’s run himself out.’
The blue line was blurring, so near and yet so far. Alex felt the runner’s arms brush him, trying yet again to pass him. With a superhuman surge Alex moved through the barriers of pain and exhaustion. Through it and out the other side. He was on top of the mountain, he was free, he was flying. He lifted his arms above his head as he hit the blue ribbon, trailing it, streaming out behind him...
He turned and jogged back to his trainer, to Captain Barker, who was punching the air with his fists. For a moment the two men were so emotional they could have wept. Their golden boy, their champion, had beaten the record. ‘Beaten’ was hardly the word — he had pulverized it, knocking off over four minutes.
The canteen was in uproar. Everyone banged their plates, shouting in unison, ‘Champion, champion...’
Alex, now even more the hero, saluted with his fist in the air, and the room erupted into screams and cheers. He didn’t want the day to end, he was happier than he had ever been in his whole life. He had a big silver cup and a shield he could keep for ever. The cup had to be handed back after a year, but for the time being it would take pride of place in the assembly room. Alex paused, looked around. ‘Where’s Eric? Where’s the runt?’
The boys nearby went quiet, sheepish. Eventually, Ted summoned the courage to tell Alex. Eric had got himself into a bit of trouble and was up in Medical. ‘You can’t see him, they won’t let you. You’ll get into trouble if you go up there without permission.’
Alex grinned and pointed to himself. ‘Who, me? Do me a favour! After what I done for the school today, you fink they’d haul me over the coals for a little misdemeanour like goin’ ter see me mate?’
Alex slipped out of the dorm and up the stairs. It was past lights out, so the corridors were dark. He edged his way up three floors, dodging the night patrol, and up to the infirmary. It was on the top floor of the wing, next to the matron’s office. Her half-glass door looked out on to the corridor. It was strictly forbidden for any boy to be in the infirmary without permission. He bent double and sneaked past the office.
The beds were all empty but one, and Alex smiled when he saw the small mound in the nearest bed. Eric’s little body was no bigger than a ten-year-old’s. He crept to the bedside and whispered, ‘Hey, what’s this? I win the race for yer an’ yer not even around ter congratulate me! Hey, you awake?’
The mound shifted and Alex had to creep right around the bed. He squatted on his heels and held out his running shield. ‘Look, I won.’
Peering closer in the gloom, Alex could see that Eric’s face was in a terrible state. His lips were puffy and bruised, and both eyes were blackened. Eric tried to smile, but his eyes filled with tears.
‘Christ, what happened?’
Fighting his tears, Eric whispered that Morgan and his crowd had set on him for tipping Alex off about the running shoe. Gently, Alex patted Eric’s greasy, spiky hair and tucked the shield into the bed beside him.
‘It’s me back playin’ up,’ Eric whimpered. ‘They kicked me hump.’
Alex leaned close and whispered, ‘They’ll be sorry. Gimme their names, I’ll get ‘em.’
‘Don’t do nuffink, Alex. Best ter forget it. You’ll be out soon what wiv winnin’ the race an’ all, you’ll get remission.’
‘Sod that. Besides, I ain’t goin’ no place wivout you.’
Eric held Alex’s shield in his small fist. He looked so pitiful that Alex sighed.
‘I’ll be in fer a long time, Alex. You just go back ter bed.’
‘What you in for, Eric? Not the infirmary, here, in the Hall?
‘I got a bit of a problem... arson...’
Alex couldn’t help but smile. He leaned close to Eric’s ear. ‘Well, there’ll be a bit of a bonfire tonight...’
‘I love you, Alex — I know it sounds soppy, but I do... Not like a queer, nuffink like that — like you was my bruvver.’
Eric felt Alex’s soft kiss on his forehead. He clutched his hero’s shield. Alex was gone as silently as he had crept in.
But Alex didn’t go straight to bed. He made his way to the locker room and prised open Vic Morgan’s locker before returning to his dormitory.
The following morning Alex took his ballroom-dancing cronies aside. ‘You all owe me, right? I want Morgan’s gang, but I want ‘em one by one. Bring them into the locker room... Any of you open yer mouths about this an’ you’ll be for it. Leave Morgan until last.’
Ted organized it, making up a story that they had got some booze stashed away in lockers, but only one could come along at a time. Morgan agreed to exchange his brothel-creepers for some of the booze.
Alex scared each one of the gang witless, sitting like a king in the end toilet with the lethal running shoe curled in his hand. ‘You won’t be hurt. All I want is ter know which one of yer worked Eric over. You can’t get out of ‘ere, my lads are on the door, so you might as well talk.’
Without their leader, the gang members crumbled. They offered bribes to be let off, and with only a little pressure Alex discovered that Morgan himself had punched Eric’s face in, and his ‘sergeant’ had applied the boot. Vic’s sergeant was a loud-mouthed, fat boy who thought he was going to be hanged when he was brought face to face with Alex. They tied him up, pulled his trousers off and hung him upside-down in the end toilet with an old sock stuffed in his mouth. He was sobbing in terror.
‘Okay, now all of you get out. Just bring Morgan.’
Ted chattered away to Morgan as he led him to the locker room. As they arrived, one of the other lads yelled to Ted that a master wanted to see him urgently. ‘The booze is in the end lav, Vic. I’ll try the shoes on an’ we can talk about it when I get back.’
Morgan strolled along the row of toilets, pushed open the door at the far end and found his half-naked sidekick trussed up. ‘What the fuck is this?’ He backed out of the toilet, almost bumping into Alex.
‘You got nobody to ‘elp yer this time, Morgan. It’s just you an’ me.’
‘Hey, come on, Stubbs... Look, I know we ain’t exactly been friends, but we can sort this one out. What you want, you name it?’
Alex was amazed how easy it was — the smell of fear gave him a strange sense of power. He could see the terror in Morgan’s eyes, and it made him feel even better. ‘This is for Eric.’
The shoe’s razor-sharp spikes slashed into Morgan’s face. The boy screamed and tried to push Alex off, but he was cornered. He fought desperately, but the spikes kept on coming. Blood streaming down his face, he fell to his knees, begging for mercy. The more he cowered the more rage Alex felt. It wasn’t Morgan any more, it was Eddie — Eddie, crying for him to stop, screaming at Alex not to hurt him any more.
‘Jesus Christ, he’s killin’ him — somebody get him off.’