Part 3 (1/2)

'Statistically it's safer than driving or crossing a road,' Johnny told him. 'You're more likely to get hit by a meteorite than be killed skydiving.'

Ethan rested his can on the table and looked directly at Johnny, who shrugged.

'OK, so some of that may not be strictly true.'

'That is is a surprise.' a surprise.'

'But you've just got to try it!' said Johnny, and Ethan saw that wildness fire up again. 'It's the most awesome thing ever. It could make you almost as cool as me! It's a life-changing thing!'

'Yeah,' said Ethan, getting up from the table to head back inside, 'and so's the money I'd need to do it.'

At the end of the day Ethan was just making for his bike when a voice called, 'Ethan? Got a minute?'

He turned to find Sam striding towards him.

'How's your first week been?'

Ethan started to reply and found he couldn't stop. All he could do was spill out everything he'd done that week how much he'd enjoyed it, the people he'd met, how he was still amazed by the whole skydiving scene, loved watching people jumping, coming in to land, their faces carrying the biggest smiles. He couldn't remember being so enthusiastic about anything in his life. It felt good.

'Here,' said Sam, handing Ethan some forms. 'A banking form so I can pay you direct into your account. The others are parental and health forms.'

'What for?' asked Ethan, and read the answer on the forms as Sam spoke.

'Perk of the job. You get a free tandem skydive. With me.'

Ethan wasn't given a chance to respond; Sam was gone.

Walking to his bike, he slipped the forms into a pocket. He couldn't wait to get his mum to sign them.

No sooner had Ethan pushed through the front door of the flat than Jo stopped him in the hall.

'Dad's here,' she told him.

'So?' said Ethan. 'Where's Mum? I've got some forms for her to sign.' He could hear the TV blaring in the lounge. A loud burp rode over it, followed by a guttural laugh.

'He's drunk.' Ethan could see the warning in Jo's eyes.

'You're not telling me everything, are you?' he said, forgetting about the forms in a second. 'What's he done?'

Jo hesitated, then said, 'It's Mum, but she's OK. He just shook her up a bit. He didn't hit her. She's going out to work in a minute.'

Ethan turned and walked down the hall.

'Ethan,' Jo called after him. 'Don't-'

But he was already in the lounge, kicking over the half-empty lager can that was propping the door open.

He found his dad sprawled on the sofa like a beached whale. The reek of alcohol stung his nose; on the floor a half-eaten kebab rested on greasy paper next to a pile of empty lager cans.

For a few moments Ethan stood there, watching his dad's fat, pale belly rising and falling, bursting through the b.u.t.tons of his s.h.i.+rt.

Then his dad turned and looked up at him. 'What do you want?'

'What did you do to Mum?' Ethan's voice was cold, hard.

'I just got her to shut up, that's all. Don't worry, son. I didn't hurt the precious little thing.'

Ethan hated the way his dad called him 'son'. He didn't want to be reminded. He stood there clenching his fists. He could feel his nails biting into his skin. His dad went back to watching the TV, cracking open another lager.

Ethan walked over to the TV and turned it off.

'What the h.e.l.l are you doing?' his dad shouted, dragging himself up out of the sofa. 'I was watching that!' He swayed slightly and took a deep pull from the lager can.

'I want you out,' said Ethan. 'We all do. Take what you want and f.u.c.k off.'

His dad leaned closer and Ethan gagged at his breath. It smelled like a pub carpet. 'You orderin' me around?' he demanded. 'Who are you to order me, eh? I'm your dad, get it?'

He tried to shove Ethan out of the way, heading for the TV, but Ethan stood his ground.

'You've gone too far,' he said. 'Hitting Mum, that's too much. I want you out.'

'I didn't hit her. I just shook her a bit, that's all.'

'I don't care,' said Ethan. 'I don't want you laying a hand on her. Just go.'

'My flat, my rules,' said his dad. 'Just who the h.e.l.l do you think you are? Think you're something special, is that it? You're a nothing, Ethan, worse than nothing. Now get out of my way.'

As his dad reached to turn on the TV, Ethan grabbed the greasy collar of his s.h.i.+rt and threw him back onto the sofa.

He landed awkwardly, and roared, 'Right, you little b.a.s.t.a.r.d! Now you're gonna get it!'

Ethan didn't move. He was ready for this, had been for years. He clenched his fists.

But then they both heard the scream from the doorway, and turned to see Mum and Jo.

'Stop it! The pair of you! Just stop it!' snapped Mum.

'Mum,' said Ethan. 'He-'

'I'm not interested,' she said, tears welling up in her eyes. 'Don't be like him, Ethan. Don't let him win.'

Ethan's dad leaned closer, and laughed. 'Yeah, Ethan, do what your mammy says, there's a good little boy.'

Ethan lifted a hand to shove him backwards, but Jo rushed in between them.

'It won't help,' she said. 'Just leave him be.'