Underdog by Euan Leckie Page A

I’m saying.’
    Tom took his break, then manned the till for the rest of the morning. Right on time, the doorbell rang and Stevo strutted in, a smug grin on his face.
    ‘What’re you looking so pleased about?’ asked Sam.
    ‘Have a look at these.’
    Stevo pointed at his feet and thrust a foot forward. He lifted one leg of his baggy jeans to reveal a brand-new trainer.
    ‘Just got ’em. What d’you reckon?’
    Tom leant over the counter to take a look. They were just like the ones he had seen in the shop window.
    ‘Wicked,’ he said.
    ‘Very nice,’ agreed Sam, a wry smile on his face. ‘Suit you down to the ground.’
    ‘You ready to go?’ asked Stevo. Tom looked to Sam.
    ‘Yeah, he’s done.’
    Tom dashed through the fly curtains and got out of his work clothes. He was back in the shop in under a minute. As they stood in front of him, Sam could not help but notice how different the two boys seemed: Stevo full of himself, strapping and decked in the latest gear; Tom self-conscious next to him, skinny and scruffy from top to bottom. Tom’s old jeans were shredded at the ankles and hung over his worn shoes. His sweatshirt was dirty.
    ‘Hang on a minute before you go,’ Sam said, opening the cash register. The drawer shot out with a clatter of coins, rattling when he dipped his fingers into them.
    ‘Here’s some of that pay I owe you. You can have it early.’ He handed Tom five crisp notes and a couple of pound coins. ‘There’s a little bit extra. You’ve earned it.’
    Tom smiled. He was not expecting to be paid so soon, and the amount was much more than he had anticipated.
    ‘Nice one,’ said Stevo, his eyes lighting up. ‘I’ll help with that.’
    ‘Get those shoes you’ve been after, and don’t go wasting it on rubbish.’ Sam looked Tom up and down. ‘And whilst you’re at it, you could do with getting yourself some new threads.’ He smiled, then looked over at Stevo. ‘I thought your dad was coming in this week.’
    ‘Guess so. He said he was. I’ll tell him you’re after him.’
    ‘Go on, then. On your way.’ Sam nodded at Tom, a knowing look on his face. ‘Remember what I said: no funny business. See you Saturday.’
    ‘How d’you do that?’ asked Stevo as they left the shop and started walking down the busy high street, eyeing the bandage around Tom’s hand. ‘Wanking?’
    ‘No.’ Tom laughed. ‘I did it this morning cutting up some steaks. Knife slipped. It’s nothing.’
    ‘Yeah?’ asked Stevo, distracted as Tom folded and stuffed the money into his pocket. ‘What you going to do with all of that, then?’
    ‘Get some new shoes. Maybe some clothes. Like Mr. Fenton said.’
    ‘Don’t blame you. You look like a fucking tramp, mate.’ They both laughed.
    ‘So where are we going? We’re not in a hurry, are we?’
    ‘Nah,’ said Stevo. ‘Can hang around if you like. We’ll have to wait for an hour or so before we go up anyway. Make sure the old bastard won’t be around. He’ll kill me if he finds out I’ve taken anyone up there.’
    ‘Up where?’
    ‘You’ll see.’ Stevo shot him a sly grin. ‘But if I take you, you’ve got to promise you won’t breathe a word to anyone. Otherwise we’ll be in the shit.’
    ‘I won’t say anything.’
    ‘Fancy getting something to eat, then? I’m starving.’
    ‘What about my shoes?’
    ‘You can get those any time. Just not today, eh?’ Stevo fumbled around in the pockets of his jeans and brought out a packet of Marlboro. ‘Let’s have a smoke first.’
    Tom thought about his dad, and wondered about accepting the offer. Before he could decide, he found himself following Stevo down one of the shop alleyways, scuttling behind some bins for cover. Crouching down and opening the packet, Stevo pulled out a joint and lit it.
    ‘I thought you meant a cigarette.’
    ‘I told you before, Tom. Those things’ll kill you.’ Stevo screwed up his face. ‘For someone with ears as big as yours, you don’t hear