PAY UP ON MONDAY OR ELSE
What would you do if a gang of bullies decided to waylay you on your way home from school, demanding money? Would you pay up?
That’s what Tom, Mia and Oliver do – at first. Ashamed of being victims, united in their fear of the gang, they feel powerless to do anything else. But as the pressure builds more and more, a terrible suspicion begins to surface: could one of the three friends be helping the bullies? And if so, just who is… the traitor?
A perceptive and highly credible tale of bullying and friendship from award-winning Pete Johnson, author of The Ghost Dog, Rescuing Dad and many other titles.
Cover
About the Book
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Also by Pete Johnson
Copyright
‘Tom.’
Someone was whispering my name.
Someone I couldn’t see.
‘Tom.’
There it was again. A girl’s voice, too.
I strained my eyes.
I still couldn’t see anyone.
‘What do you want?’ I called back.
The overhanging trees creaking and sighing in the wind were my only answer.
Someone obviously thought they were being funny. Well, I wasn’t laughing.
I turned round. I was on my way home. My house is at the end of this narrow, twisty laneway which I’m not keen on walking down, especially when I’m late. Like tonight. Still, I’d soon be there now.
‘You’re late tonight, Tom. Been to football training, have you?’
I whirled round.
‘Who is that?’ I cried.
There was a weird kind of rattling sound. And then I was able to make out someone. A long dark figure. I could see the shadow of a hood too. It was just as if the Grim Reaper was calling me.
A cold chill ran over my body.
And then the figure moved towards me but very slowly, just as if it were walking on stilts. And yes, it was a girl, but dressed from head to toe in black – a girl who I was sure I’d never in my life seen before.
‘Hello Tom,’ she said.
‘How do you know my name?’
‘I know a lot about you.’
‘Do you?’ I faltered.
‘Well, I should do. I’ve been watching you for weeks now.’
‘And why have you been doing that?’ I couldn’t stop my voice from going all squeaky.
She moved closer to me: in that same slow, confident way. Now she was standing just under the orange street light.
And not only was she dressed all in black but she was wearing black lipstick and black eye-liner. Her face, though, was covered in white powder giving her a weird, half-dead look. And every time she moved she clattered and jangled because she was wearing so much jewellery.
She was kind of fascinating in a warped kind of way. But there was something odd and scary about her too. And why was a girl, who must be at least fifteen, so interested in a smallish eleven-year-old boy like me?
‘You don’t go to my school, do you?’ I asked.
This was clearly the wrong thing to say, as her small, dark eyes immediately tightened. ‘Oh no, the school I go to is a dump, not like yours. You go to the posh school.’
‘Oh it’s not—’ I began.
‘Yes it is,’ she cut in sharply.
Well, I wasn’t going to start an argument with her about it. But my school really wasn’t posh. It was pretty small though, and you had to pass this exam if you wanted to go there. And by the most amazing fluke of the century I’d done just that.
I decided to end this convo now. She was obviously a bit of a weirdo and the less I had to do with her the better.
‘Afraid I’ve got to go now … er …’ I struggled to remember her name. Then I realized she hadn’t told me it.
And she said, ‘Oh, I’m sorry, where’re my manners. My name is Chris.’
‘Oh right, great.’ I tried to smile up at her. ‘Well, goodbye Chris.’
‘Just before you go –’ she lowered her voice confidingly. ‘The thing is, I need to borrow some money from you, Tom.’
I started.
‘It’s only four pounds which is nothing to you. You can easily afford that.’
Actually, I couldn’t. So I said firmly, ‘Sorry, I haven’t got any spare cash at the moment.’ Then I said, ‘Sorry,’ again and decided to make a run for it.
I bolted forward and let out a gasp of horror. From the other direction two other hooded figures loomed up.
‘I’ve just asked Tom if I could borrow some money,’ Chris called across to them. ‘But I’m afraid he wasn’t very helpful. You’ll just have to search him, Sonia.’
The taller of the two girls – and she was massively tall – immediately began rifling through my pockets. Before I could even protest she’d found my wallet.
She held it in the air like a triumphant magician.
‘No, that’s mine,’ I cried.
But she was already opening it. ‘You little liar,’ she shouted. ‘You’ve got five pounds and forty pence on you. But we’ll only take four pounds as we’re not like boys. We’re not greedy. Now raise your hands while I see what else you’ve got. Come on, hurry up.’
I did what she said. She began to frisk me and acted as if she had a perfect right to do it too. I was boiling over with anger and frustration.
And then she quickly discovered my mobile phone. Now, I’d only had it a week, as it had taken me ages to persuade Dad to get me one. And just today I’d gone round my class getting everyone else’s mobile numbers to put on it.
‘Don’t touch that. It’s brand new,’ I blurted out. ‘It cost over seventy pounds and my dad’ll go mad if—’
But I wasn’t able to say any more as Sonia had grabbed my tie and was pulling it round my neck as she hissed furiously in my ear, ‘Don’t you ever talk to us like that. You show us respect. Respect! Do you understand?’
She was yanking my tie so tightly it was really hard to speak. I had to drag the words out of the back of my throat. ‘Yes. I’m sorry.’
Sonia’s eyes were still burning with rage. But then Chris said quietly, ‘All right, he won’t let his mouth run off like that again. He knows how he should speak to us now.’
Sonia whacked me another furious glare, then let go. My head swimming, I sagged back. In fact, I just stopped myself from falling over. Then I started to cough.
For ages I couldn’t stop. Not only because of the way Sonia had been gripping my tie, but also because she was wearing a really strong perfume.
The three of them stood watching me cough my guts up as if I were some strange creature they’d discovered in an alleyway. They were sort of interested, but not at all concerned. In Sonia’s eyes there was still a glint of anger too.
Finally, I stopped. And Chris said, ‘Now, we’re going to borrow your mobile phone.’
‘To teach you some manners,’ cut in Sonia.
‘And we’ll be back to collect another four pounds next week,’ went on Chris.
‘What!’ I exclaimed.
‘Just look on it as your going-home tax,’ called out the girl who’d arrived with Sonia. She was dressed just like the others only her hair was streaked with green and red. This was the first thing she’d said. Sonia and Chris laughed at her comment. She grinned with pride.
Then Chris leant down and put her face right up close to mine. I began to cough. She was wearing the same perfume as Sonia. In a voice so quiet it sent shivers down my spine, she whispered, ‘Whatever you do, don’t grass us up. Remember, we know where you live.’
Why had those girls singled me out?
Just as lions pick out the weakest animal in the herd, had they watched me roaming about the village and thought: now he’s a right soft touch?
I can see why they might have thought that. I’m fair-haired and so small and skinny you can see my ribs. I couldn’t even fight the tide in my bath. I’m not tough or hard at all. But – and this is the total truth now – I’ve never been picked on in my life before.
Well, except once when a boy stuck a pencil in my leg. But he was a bit of a headcase and did mad things to everyone, including the teachers.
But other than that no-one’s ever bullied me. The reason is quite simple: I make people laugh. I’m quick-witted and act daft in class. And that has – until now – masked the fact that I’m not exactly big.
Anyway, that night, I sat in my bedroom just thinking and thinking about what had happened. How long had those girls been watching me? What else did they know about me? I got myself all worked up and worried. And I just knew I had to talk to someone else about this. But who?
I live in a village miles away from my school. And only two other people from my class hang out here.
Oliver is a swot. A real teacher’s pet. And I couldn’t imagine myself having a convo with him about anything.
Mia’s all right, though. I like her. And we have a bit of a laugh on the bus sometimes. But could I tell her about today? No way. It’s far too shaming and embarrassing to talk to a girl about.
Still, I could always phone a mate. Just one problem with that. Although I’ve got lots of friends, I don’t know if I could trust any of them to keep today’s humiliating incident to themselves. And if that got round the school … well, I’d look a right weakling, wouldn’t I?
I could hear their comments already. ‘Poor little Tom picked on by girls, were you?’
I’d lose all my respect in one day.
So that just left my dad. When he got home I went down to say hello. My mum died when I was two and unfortunately I don’t remember her at all. Then for yonks and yonks it was just Dad and me until he acquired a ‘lady-friend’.
It didn’t bother me at first as I hardly saw her. Then Dad announced she was coming to ‘share Christmas with us’.
And on Christmas Day when we were tucking into the biggest turkey you’ve ever seen, Dad started flashing this engagement ring about. Put me right off my food, I can tell you.
She and Dad have been married for nearly three months now. And she’s not horrible to me. In fact, she’s all right, even told me to call her Lydia (which I do).
But she doesn’t like this house much or where we live. I know that because I’ve heard her on the phone to her friends in London moaning on and on about ‘life in the sticks’. She also thinks Dad deserves a better job than he’s got: says he’s not appreciated enough. Goes on about that a lot.
Anyway, after tea Dad and Lydia sat on the couch holding hands. No, they haven’t grown out of that yet. I sat there, feeling like a right gooseberry, until Dad suddenly realized I was in the room as well and asked, ‘Everything all right, Tom? You seem a bit quiet tonight.’
So there it was, my cue to tell him. But then Dad went on, ‘Oh yes, how did football training go?’
My dad was captain of his school rugby team and was pretty disappointed when I showed no talent for rugby at all.
Still, I built up some credit with him when I made the school football team. I ran all the way home to tell him and we went out for a pizza to celebrate. But all my credit was going to evaporate when he heard I was being terrorized by girls. And it made me appear so weak, didn’t it? So I just told him about football practice instead. He liked that and by the time I’d finished he had a big smile on his face.
Then I went into the kitchen, dug out the Yellow Pages and rang up the college about karate classes. There weren’t any vacancies now but the lady at the college was really friendly and took my name down and told me to ring again in January.
January. But that was two and a half months away!
And I saw that girl-gang the very next day.
I’d got off the bus home and gone into the café to get a cake when I spotted the three of them sitting around a table. Sonia was carving her name on the table with a knife. She was doing it quite openly. And no-one was stopping her. The flustered-looking girl behind the counter was just acting as if she couldn’t see her.
I was about to leave (all my appetite for that cream cake had just vanished) when Chris leant forward and hissed at me, ‘Monday.’ At once, three pairs of eyes were boring into me. I fled.
By Monday I had a plan, though. I’d escape them by going the long way home. But when I got off the bus I saw the girl with the green and red hair streaks watching me. She had a mobile phone pinned to her ear (mine!). I knew then they’d anticipated me taking a different route. And if I did that they’d just follow me.
So I started to plod down the laneway as usual. And Sonia was waiting for me. She didn’t even give me a fake smile as Chris would have done.
‘You’ve got something for me,’ she snapped.
‘Four pounds is a lot for me to pay every week.’
‘But you can afford it.’ She spat the words at me, her eyes like daggers.
So I got out four one-pound coins. She grabbed them out of my hand.
‘Next Monday another four pounds. Don’t ever think of not paying,’ she hissed.
I hated the idea of giving this lot money every week. But do you know, I hated having to see them every week even more. I think I’d rather have mailed the money to them. But I knew they’d never agree to that. Ambushing me every week was much more fun.
‘My mobile phone,’ I piped up. ‘My dad’s asked me about it …’
‘Oh, has he?’ There was real venom in her face now. ‘Your dear daddy. Well don’t you dare tell him anything, will you?’
‘No, I won’t,’ I cried.
‘And you might get your phone back when you’ve learnt some manners, then again you might not.’
Then she laughed out loud as if she’d made a joke – although it was more of a bark than a laugh.
And I crawled home.
The bus home was wheezing along at two miles an hour and I was so bored.
The first bus I have to get – that’s the one into town – isn’t too bad. A lot of my class catch that one. But the second one back to my village just takes for ever.
Usually Tom’s around and he’s a good laugh but he had football training, so I sat on the top of the bus all by myself, sending text messages to girls at school. Dead exciting messages too like, ‘Are you going to hand in your English homework tomorrow?’
Suddenly I remembered there was someone else I could talk to: Oliver. Now he always sat downstairs by himself – and I didn’t really know him. He didn’t go to my last school (went somewhere much grander) and in the few weeks I have known him – well, he’s not made a great impression. In fact, everyone thinks he’s a stuck-up snob, because he’s got a posh voice, is very keen in lessons and brings his lunch to school in a Harrods bag (actually he only did that once).
He never stops talking to the teachers in lessons and hardly says a word to us out of them. At breaktime, sometimes I’ll see him shuffle past all by himself. And no-one says a word to him; they just look through him as if he’s not really there.
Poor Oliver. I’m sure he’d be glad of some company now. And I can ask him about that badge he wears all the time. It’s dead unusual: there’s a gold star in the middle of a white circle with a gold rim all around the edges.
