The End is Where We Begin by Maria Goodin (open ebook .txt) 📕

almost crying with laughter. “You spoke to me so I turned around—”

“You just have to open your mouth to reply! You don’t have to swing round and aim your sergeant major in my direction! That’s the last time I’m being your piss buddy!”

Max flopped backwards against the grass, his deep belly laugh aiming up at the night sky. It was so contagious that Michael and I started laughing with him.

“Disgusting,” muttered Tom, sitting down next to Max, who started protesting that if things were the other way round and Tom had pissed on his feet he wouldn’t have made half as much fuss.

I turned to Michael. “What were you going to say before?”

“Nothing, it doesn’t matter,” he said quickly, shaking his head dismissively.

“So come on then, Galileo,” piped up Max, pointing up at the night sky, “what’s that massive shiny one just there?”

I followed the line of his finger.

“The flashing one? That’s what’s known as an aeroplane, Max.”

Max sat up and peered harder, before removing his glasses and wiping them with the hem of his jumper.

“I wonder what else is up there,” mused Michael, “beyond the stars and planets and all the bits scientists have discovered. I mean, how can it just go on forever? I can’t get my head round that.”

“Heaven?” offered Max, popping his glasses back on. “That’s got to be up there somewhere.”

“You don’t seriously believe that though, do you?” asked Michael.

Max shrugged. “Well, I dunno. Where else would it be?”

“But do you believe in, like, an actual heaven?” I asked him.

“Yeah. Why not? It’s where I’m going when I die anyway. I don’t know where you lot are off to.”

“What, ’cause we’re not believers?” scoffed Tom.

“No, ’cause you’re gits,” said Max.

“Yeah, whatever,” groaned Tom. “Well, I’m not going to heaven.”

“I don’t think any of us doubt that,” I told him.

“I should get home,” said Michael flatly, checking his watch and standing up.

“Ah, Blondie!” cried Max. “You’ve gotta get your curfew extended!”

Michael sighed and started to tell Max how he’d already approached his dad about a curfew extension and the angry rant he’d received in response.

“Hey,” Tom whispered, nudging me in the ribs, “we’ve gotta sort this party out for Max, okay?”

“What, so you can try it on with every girl we know?”

“No, you dope, because it’s his sixteenth. And because it’s Max. We’ve known him all our lives and he deserves a really good party. He’s a legend, and we’re his best friends, so we need to make it a special night for him, all right?”

I searched Tom’s face in the darkness, trying to figure out what went on behind those eyes. There were times when it was easy to forget that deep down he was a kind soul and an incredibly loyal friend. A lot of the time he did my head in, but despite all the bravado and mockery and insults, I had faith that he’d always come through for me in the end.

“You’re right,” I said, slapping him on the shoulder, “Max does deserve it. We’ll sort something out.” I stood up, ready to head back into town with Michael. “You two coming, or what?”

Max and Tom looked at each other.

“Nah, I think we’ll hang out a little longer,” said Tom.

“Oh, by the way,” said Max, “there’s a fairground in town next weekend. I saw a poster for it in the window of that place they’ve just finished renovating in town. The new pub, the Canal something—”

“The Canal House,” said Tom.

“Yeah, that one. Shall we go? Might be a laugh.”

Michael and I looked at each other unenthusiastically.

“I’m not sure,” I said, turning my nose up, “I thought we talked about going to see X-Men.”

“But you already saw it with Libby.”

“Yeah, but I missed half of it. We got there fifteen minutes late and then she kept nattering the whole way through and asking loads of questions.”

“We can see the film Sunday,” said Tom.

“Let’s vote,” said Max, “all those in favour of the fairground…”

Max and Tom both raised their hands, and then, tentatively, so did Michael.

“Might be fun,” he shrugged at me.

“That’s a majority vote then,” declared Max.

“Fine,” I yawned, “whatever. We’ll see you next weekend then.”

“Have a safe walk home, boys,” called Tom, lying back on the grass, “don’t go talking to any strangers!”

“They don’t come much stranger than you, Tom,” called Michael as we headed down the hill.

“Ha ha! Later, Blondie! Later, dickhead!”

“Later, shitface!” I called back.

“Goodnight, gentlemen!” called Max.

“See you, Max!” replied Michael.

“’Night, Max!” I called, glancing back over my shoulder, but he’d already faded away into the darkness of the star-studded night.

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank the team at Legend Press for their continued belief in my work, and for enabling me to share these people, places and events which insisted on invading my imagination whether I wanted them to or not. I would also like to thank my children for putting up with the numerous canal-side walks I dragged them on during the summer of 2019.