Page 15 of Second Story

There must be something magic in this sea air—Lenny sleeps right through to lunchtime, lulled maybe by the shush of waves below this cliff and the occasional rumble of passing camper vans carrying surfboards. I should have spent that quiet time thinking of how to wow a headmaster. Instead, I’ve watched seagulls soar and surfers catch wild waves, all while I replay a second unexpected meeting with Joe. Eventually, I have to wake my brother, then I get fuck all headspace.

Not because he’s chatty.

I wish.

He’s silent through a picnic lunch and still quiet when I head for Glynn Harber, so I nudge a bag along the bench seat, thankful that he isn’t prone to travel sickness. “I grabbed some new books from the back of the van. Take a look.”

Those books aren’t truly new. They’re old library stock that I usually deliver to playgroups and community centres, but they might buy me the thinking time I still need, and I believe they have until I glance sideways.

Lenny’s lips move, sounding out words from an old favourite instead of from one of the new titles I selected. I can guess what he’s reciting—can almost recite each word over the noisy rattle of the engine, I’ve read them myself so often.

Some scars show up on elbows or knees.

Other scars hide where no one can see.

Lenny flips more pages, still in silence.

I break it. “Nearly there now.” I glance sideways again to see his face is still puffy with sleep, and he yawns hugely, his mouth only snapping shut when I say, “Wow, don’t let the tors see you yawn that wide.”

His eyes widen to ask why,but he perks up and scans the horizon for more of the crags I point out.

“Cornish people say that these tors are really sleeping giants who are always hungry. You just opened your mouth so wide I could almost see your lunch.” I lower my voice. “If they woke up and saw the same, they might want some for themselves.”

This squint from Len asks, “Really?”with narrow-eyed suspicion that is pure Wintergreen. Thank fuck the version of Lenny I promised Mum I’d take care of is still under that suspicious surface. He wants to believe so badly that he can’t help his eyebrows rising to wonder, “Do they?”and this is even better—he rummages in another bag I filled with service station snacks and cans of Red Bull, and he speaks up.

His voice is so, so rusty.

“There’s one Kit Kat left.”

He digs deeper, and I hear Mum in this offer.

“I’d share with giants if they’re hungry.”

Joe must have knotted my tie too tightly. I have to swallow past a constriction. “Yeah, I know you would. But do you know what happens if a giant shares with you?” I answer for him, like I’ve had to increasingly often since cops slapped cuffs on our mother as if she was some career criminal instead of a careworker who spent all her time reading to old-age pensioners and my brother. “A giant sharing means they’ve decided to be your BFF. Your best friend forever.”

Best friend? I’d settle for Lenny having one special person after having to move him from school to school so often.

No wonder he got quieter.

I reach across to tickle a belly full of what Lenny’s first welfare officer would no doubt deem a piss-poor choice of childhood nutrition, only my brother is all smiles now, so Joe and his opinions can suck it. “Cover your mouth next time, Len. Unless you want those giants to chase us all the way to Glynn Harber.”

These widened eyes shout, “Chase us?”

Shit.

Lenny shrinks in his seat while something the exact opposite of fear swells inside me. I’m full to the fucking brim with fury.

He shouldn’t have seen that machete.

He’ll never see another if I can convince Luke Lawson to hire me.

I need to hurry to do that, but first I nip Lenny’s fear in the bud. “Them chasing us would be a good thing. All the giants here are friendly. I should know. I told a story for one of them at my first interview.” That teacher had been tall enough to pass for one. “His name was Hayden, and he was as big as one of those granite tors. He shared his lunch with me, and you know what a giant sharing means, yeah?”

I glance across to see Lenny mouth, “Best friends forever.”

“That’s right. He’s my BFF, and I bet he’d share his lunch with you too. Hope you like rock sandwiches. And gravel soup. All washed down with a pint of lava.”

Lenny huffs, but he smiles, and that’s one worry gone, which eases an ache in my chest I’ve had a year to live with. It still doesn’t help with a worry all of my own.

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