Fat Boy Swim by Catherine Forde Read Free Book Online Page A

bus hurtling along the main road assured him he wouldn’t get completely lost.
    Crikey, was Jimmy bushed walking! Heart going like the clappers, t-shirt stuck to his back. He was breathless. Parched. Would never make it home on foot. Fumbling among the sweetie papers in his pockets for change he made for the main road.
    ‘Jim! Isn’t it too good to be inside this weather? I was gonna come and see you later. Now we can walk and talk.’
    GI Joe, in his Bruce Willis get-up, bounded from nowhere like a supercharged pit-bull. Gave Jimmy’s shoulder the old paw clamp, steered him away from the stop, as a bus – Jimmy’s bus – hurtled past.
    ‘Guess what, Jim?’
    ‘What?’ Jimmy’s voice was as heavy as his heart.
That was my bus
he wanted to say. Instead, he found himself lurching alongside GI Joe: Frankenstein’s monster without the neck bolts.
    ‘It’s brilliant! I’ve got the Leisure Centre for a whole day and night the month after next. Gonna run that swimathon right enough and have a big party after. Music, dancing. What d’you think, Jim? Fancy running the catering side for me?’
    Jimmy just about managed a grunt of agreement, although he didn’t see how he could look ahead to next month on this, the longest walk. He didn’t think he’d even make it to the next block! Deep within the flesh of his thighs, which chaffed, sweaty-raw against each other, untried muscles quivered in spasm. Every few steps, one or other of his legs jerked a warning:
I can’t go on.
If both legs jerked simultaneously, Jimmy would drop like a very large boulder on the pavement.
    His nostrils, possibly the fittest part of his anatomy after his jaw, worked overtime to suck oxygen into his lungs. A pointless exercise. The more Jimmy inhaled, the more exhausted he became. His fingertips tingled and his head buzzed as though it was going to burst from the strain of matching GI Joe’s walking pace.
    He was dizzy.
    Felt sick.
    Had a stitch.
    Was knackered.
    But still they walked, and GI Joe talked. Yak, yak, yak. All the way home.
    Only when Jimmy sank on the steps of his close did GI Joe zip it. Arms folded across his chest, legs astride, he stared, watching the sweat run from Jimmy’s pores. Down his arms, over his heaving chest, through his hair.
    ‘Look at you, man,’ GI Joe said at last.
    He hunkered down, bringing himself eye-level with Jimmy. Grabbed the back of his neck. Shook him like a dog.
    ‘What you doing to yourself, man?’
    Those words were
déjà vu,
thought Jimmy. Dream words.
    ‘That was only a couple of miles we walked, Jim. What a state you’re in. I’ll help you.’
    Hadn’t he said those very words in the dream? The swimming pool dream where the Shadow Shape lay forever out of reach
. . .
    ‘C’mon, Jim. Tell me how I can help you.’
    Of his own accord, Jimmy met GI Joe’s gaze. What if
. . .
? he was thinking as he blinked sweat from his eyes. And aloud he whispered the rest of what he was thinking.
    ‘
. . .
you could teach me to swim?’
    ‘Where were you, Jimmy?’
    Two worried faces peered through the steam of the bathroom watching Jimmy emerge wrapped in an enormous bath sheet; a corpulent Roman emperor.
    ‘Pauline said Father Joseph brought you home.’ Mum took Jimmy’s elbow in her hand, cradled it as if he might break. ‘I went out looking everywhere, son. Are you all right?’
    Over Mum’s shoulder, Aunt Pol was frowning deeply at Jimmy.
    ‘Why were you with that priest again?’ Aunt Pol said ‘priest’ as though it tasted foul.
    Jimmy took his time answering, looking from one face to another. Mum’s cheeks were tight, and pale. She was just glad that Jimmy was back and safe. No more questions. But Aunt Pol, she was acting well weird, looking at Jimmy through narrowed eyes as though he’d done something wrong.
    ‘Went for a walk,’ he shrugged. ‘I’m going to have some of that soup now.’
    ‘And you just
bumped
into St Action Man by chance.’
    ‘Pauline!’ whispered