Imaginary Foe by Shannon Leahy Read Free Book Online

there and then, but decide that now is not the time. Our first real kiss can wait until later. Instead, I kiss her on the forehead and she blushes.
    Just before I reach the exit doors, Susan, Mandy’s best friend, rushes up to me. ‘Mandy wants you to know that she hates you. She also wanted me to give you this.’ Susan slaps me on the cheek so quickly that I doubt whether it really happened at all. But then I feel the pain. I look at her in disbelief.
    ‘Well, do you have anything to say?’ She stands there with her hands on her hips, waiting for an answer.
    ‘No.’
    As I walk, and Mike staggers, home, I feel a contentedness that is new to me. Even the slap from Susan hasn’t produced any ill feeling in me. The moonlight shrouds us in a comforting blue light. There’s a crispness to the night and it feels special and significant. It reminds me of Van Gogh’s painting, The Starry Night . I look at the houses we pass and imagine the people inside, asleep in their beds, oblivious to us passing by.
    Even though Mike’s drunk, it’s nice to be with him now, walking down this long blue street. It’s safe to say that Mike and I are best friends. We share something that I don’t have with the other guys. He’s by far the most insightful of the group and whatever happens to us all, I know that Mike and I will succeed. We’ll get out of this town and we’ll make something of ourselves. He’s just hit a low point. Something has got to him.
    ‘You’ve got to get a grip on things,’ I say. ‘I mean, Jesus, man, is it really that bad?’
    ‘You don’t know what it’s like.’
    ‘What what’s like?’
    ‘Never mind. Forget I ever said anything. I’m just drunk.’
    ‘If there’s something you need to talk about, I’m all ears, Mike. I mean, you can tell me anything, OK?’
    ‘Yeah. I’ll tell ya sometime. When I’m good and ready.’ Mike pulls a cigarette out of his pocket. He tries for some time to locate the end of the cigarette with the flame of his lighter. He finally manages to light up. ‘Anyway, when are we gonna get serious about our band, Stan?’
    ‘God, I don’t know. We haven’t even come up with a name yet, have we?’
    ‘Hey, I forgot to tell you!’ Mike stops in the middle of the road and takes hold of my arm. ‘I thought of a name. Are you ready for it?’
    ‘Oh, shit, here we go. What is it?’
    He lets go of my arm, does a drum roll in the air and spins around as if surrounded by mounted toms, his cigarette end burning bright from the movement. He almost falls over, but regains his balance in time to finish off his drum roll on an imaginary crash cymbal.
    ‘The Night!’
    ‘The Night?’
    ‘Yes – The Night!’
    ‘Are you serious?’
    ‘Yeah, man. It rocks!’
    ‘I’ll ask you about that tomorrow when you’re sober.’
    Mike starts singing one of our songs, slurring the lyrics. It’s a pretty good song, though. I join in and we sing all the way home, walking down the middle of the road, as free as two fucking birds.
    When I get home, Dad’s already in bed and I’m immensely relieved. I’m really not in the mood to brief him on the night’s events.
    The alpha waves have already set in and I’m ready to sleep. I’m sure I’ll have the best sleep I’ve had in a long time, and that soothing dreams will take me to my favourite desolate landscapes. I’m sure that Rhonda will be there too, ready to join me in my sci-fi explorations.

6
    Middleton is a small town. First and foremost, that’s how I’d describe it. Have you ever heard that song ‘Small Town’ by John Mellencamp? He pretty much nails it. I still dream about getting to that big town he sings about. If I don’t make it to that big town, what am I going to do? Get married, have babies, work my guts out and then die? No, thanks, that’s not for me. Other than small, I’d describe Middleton as being insular. Have you heard the expression ‘small town mentality’? Well, that’s what I mean by