Short Story Competition #1 Winning Entry

Written by Nicky Marsh
Bradford UK

Trust

Listen. I know there's no bogeyman. I know you can step on the cracks and not break anyone's back. I know they're not taking the word 'gullible' out of the dictionary, and I know there's nothing on my shirt but a finger waiting to flick my nose. You can't fool me. Not any more.

My best friend Joseph used to tease me because I believed everything the kids at school told me. One day in break we were huddled cross-legged round the back of the hut, scratching in the dirt with sticks and telling secrets. Me, Joseph, Robert S. and Daniel. While Daniel was telling us about Jordan saying a rude word to Miss, I started pulling leaves off a bush and tearing them up. Then I felt something on my knee. It was a fat, yellow-black caterpillar, covered in long, bristly hairs. I jumped up and swatted it off me. The others noticed and started laughing. All except Robert, who looked at me all serious and said "Ummm."

"What?" I asked.

"You're in trouble now, Lewis" he said. "Them yellow caterpillars, they're poisonous."
"They are not" said Joseph.

"Yeah they are" said Robert. "I seen it on a nature programme. And now you've touched it, you'll probably die."

"Shut up, Robert" said Joseph, but I barely heard him. My heart was thumping like I'd just sprinted the football field, and hot tears were stinging my eyes. The sickly smell of the blossoms on the bush pooled in my throat and choked me and I thought, 'This is what being poisoned feels like.'

I didn't die, of course. Joseph pulled me away, said it was all a lie and I shouldn't believe everything I hear. So we made a pact: he would always tell me the truth, and I would always believe him, just him and no-one else. I knew I could trust him.
At first it was ace. He told me the truth about how swallowing chewing gum doesn't really make your tummy explode and how picking dandelions doesn't really make you wet the bed. It stopped me from worrying, and I never felt stupid any more.

But then Joseph stopped coming to school. He was a bit poorly, his mum said; so I would save up the day's lies and tell them to him in his bed, where he would make truth of them. Then his mum said he needed rest, and I shouldn't come round so often. I asked my mum what was wrong with him and she said "Don't you worry, he'll soon be right as rain." At school we made him a Get Well card, and sent it to the hospital where he was staying. I asked when he'd be back at school, and Miss Simmons said "Very soon". I was glad; I missed him.

One day I was allowed to visit him in the Children's Ward. My mum said not to stare at him if he looked a bit different, and not to ask him difficult questions. She spoke to the nurse, who said things like "He's a brave little boy, a fighter." When I went in he was lying in bed, all fluffy-bald, and his face was fat. I had a list of school lies all ready for him to challenge, but he stopped me. He told me there was another truth he needed to tell me. A truth that no-one else would.

You can't fool me. I know there's no bogeyman. I know that caterpillars can't poison you, but other things can. And I know I'll never believe anything a grownup tells me, not ever again.

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