Brilliant by Roddy Doyle Read Free Book Online Page B

lawn mower was buried in the grass. The grass was really long, and a bit frightening because it seemed to be making noise and even grabbing at them as they walked through it to the shed.
    Gloria spoke very quietly. She wasn’t scared—not really—but she wanted to hear a voice, even her own, so the grass would just be grass again and everything would be normal.
    â€œMam says Mr. O’Driscoll has a bad back,” she said, quietly. “And that’s why he never cuts the grass.”
    â€œDad says Mr. O’Driscoll’s just a waster,” said Raymond, quietly.
    They were at the shed now. The door was open, but they didn’t go in.
    â€œHere, Fang.”
    They heard Fang’s tail thumping the floor of the shed. But he didn’t come out.
    â€œFang?”
    His tail thumped the floor again. But his tail was the only part of Fang that moved. They went to the shed and looked in. It was pitch-black. The shed had no window. But they heard Fang—
thump, thump
—and then they could see him. He was lying on his rug, looking at them. It seemed warm in the shed, and the dog smell was nice. So they stepped in.
    â€œDon’t shut the door,” Raymond whispered.
    â€œThere is no door,” Gloria whispered back.
    They stood there and looked down at Fang.
    Fang was older than both of them; he’d always been old. He was a mix of about twenty different breeds, and most of them must have been big. Because Fang was huge.
    Gloria remembered why they were there.
    â€œAre you depressed, Fang?” she asked him.
    Fang farted.
    â€œIs that depression?” Gloria asked.
    â€œDon’t think so,” said Raymond. “Or if it is, Dad’s really depressed. Here’s the test, watch. Fang?”
    Fang’s tail walloped the floor—and stopped.
    â€œFang?”
    The tail drumming started again.
    â€œSee?” said Raymond. “Fang’s definitely not the Black Dog of Depression. He’s too happy.”
    He sighed. This job was going to be harder than he’d expected—although he hadn’t really expected, or anticipated, anything. There was another black dog on the next street, but Raymond didn’t know if there was any point in—
    â€œWhat are yis doin’?”
    The voice came from nowhere.
    Gloria screamed, but nothing came out. She could feel the scream in her throat, but it was clinging there, too scared to climb out of her mouth.
    Raymond might have screamed too—he wasn’t sure. His face was an exploding red ball—that was what it felt like. His heart was in the middle of his head. He couldn’t see a thing.
    Gloria had never had been afraid of the dark. But it wasn’t the dark that had frightened her. It was the voice. A voice with no body.
    Her scream finally came out.
    â€œ. . . ohmygod . . . !”
    Then she saw the head.
    Raymond saw it too.
    An upside-down head.

    â€œErnie?” said Raymond.
    â€œWha’?” said Ernie O’Driscoll.
    â€œWhat are you doing?”
    â€œHangin’ upside down,” said Ernie.
    â€œYeah,” said Raymond. “But why?”
    His heart was back where it was supposed to be. He could see Ernie O’Driscoll properly now. Ernie was hanging from a wooden beam that went across the shed, just under the roof. His arms were crossed, over his chest. He was hanging by his legs, like a bat.
    â€œWell,” said Ernie. “I’m a bit of a vampire, like.”
    Ernie O’Driscoll’s name was well known all along the street. “If you don’t do your homework, you’ll end up like Ernie O’Driscoll.” “If you don’t eat your cabbage, you’ll end up like Ernie O’Driscoll.” Ernie was famous. All the local kids knew about him. But the fact that Ernie was a vampire was red-hot, brand-new news.
    â€œA vampire?” said Gloria.
    Ernie nodded once, upside down.
    â€œSince when?” said