Sixty Seconds by Claire Farrell Page A

would be dark early. Da had told him never to go
anywhere alone because there were bad men out there, bad men who
would take him away. But Da would come looking for him. Da would
save him. ‘Cos Da was a hero.
    Eamon
puffed out his chest. If Da was a hero, he could be a hero too. He
could get home and if any bad men came near him, he would kick them
where it hurts and run away. Da taught him well. Eamon remembered
the way home clearly, even though he hadn’t taken the journey alone
before. He wondered why nobody had collected him, maybe Selena was
supposed to and forgot.
    He
shifted the weight of his schoolbag. Muscles, that’s what he’d
have. Like a hero. Like Da. He grinned to himself and strolled on,
confident and happy. He waited for traffic lights to turn green,
looked both ways before crossing the road. Big boys can walk home
on their own.
    But then
nothing looked familiar and Eamon realised he had taken a wrong
turn. He stopped walking and sucked the tip of his thumb, trying to
figure out where to go. He saw a boy in the same school uniform as
himself.
    “ Are you in my school?” Eamon asked him, shy because it was a
bigger boy.
    The boy
looked down at Eamon and laughed. “Are you Selena’s
brother?”
    Eamon
nodded. If he knew Selina then he must be a friend. “Can you bring
me home? Nobody collected me.”
    The
boy’s eyes narrowed a little. “Yeah, sure. I’m Jay, I’ll take you
home. Come on, little man.” The boy led Eamon through the park but
not to the playground, not where Ma ever took him.
    Jay
passed the pond and pretended to push Eamon in. Eamon didn’t like
that but he didn’t want to cry in front of a big boy. The sky was
darker now and Eamon felt a little scared. Da always said bad
people were out in the dark.
    They
walked until Eamon’s feet were sore, until he begged Jay to stop,
until they came across a group of even bigger boys. Jay pushed
Eamon in front of him, toward the others.
    “ Guess who this is?” he said and laughed but Eamon couldn’t see
what was funny.
    “ He looks like him and all,” one of them said. “What you doing
out this late? Shouldn’t you be home crying?”
    Eamon
jutted his chin. “I don’t cry. My Da says big boys don’t
cry.”
    The boys
all laughed. “Your Da’s dead, you stupid twerp.”
    Eamon didn’t know who spoke but his chin trembled. “My
Da’s not dead.
He’s a super hero.”
    “ Your Da’s no hero, he’s a fucking rat,” one of the boys said,
and spat on the ground. He moved towards Eamon but Eamon wouldn’t
move. The boy smacked Eamon across the mouth.
    Eamon’s
eyes watered with the sting. He tasted blood, reminding him of when
he used to put old coins in his mouth. His Da would make him spit
them out in his hand. Eamon spat the blood out. It splashed the
boy’s sleeve. The boy’s face turned red. He lifted his hand again
but this time, Eamon was ready. Ready to be a hero, just like Da.
He ducked and punched the boy where it hurts, hoping Da would turn
up and rescue him. They were lying about Da, he just knew
it.
    The
group of boys burst into hysterical laughter as one of their own
bent over with pain. He glanced at Eamon, dark eyes full of hate,
and Eamon dropped his bag and ran. He didn’t look around, he didn’t
stop.
    He ran
and ran and kept running until he found a gate and made it out of
the park. His chest heaving, he kept moving, dodging crowds of
people and crying silent tears. He recognised the shopping centre,
the big one Ma went to every Saturday afternoon while he and Da
watched the football together.
    Taking a
deep breath, he tried to remember the way home, he knew it wasn’t
far. Eamon found his way but he dreaded going home and telling Ma
he lost his schoolbag. Da would say it was grand but Ma would
probably cry about money again.
    He
walked slow, feeling guilty, but a knot of fear was twisting up his
insides, why hadn’t Da saved him? Eamon shuffled his feet –
entering his estate, everything seemed