“Get lost penis breath,” I called out, keeping my voice deep, attempting to disguise it.
“Don’t make us drag you out,” Boyd cut in. Like the little shit would have any chance of doing that. I’d smash my fist into his melon-shaped head first.
My spot was dark and snug, and I was well tucked in. The only way they could get to me was if they came in after me. And I knew Boyd was terrified of spiders. He was a proper big girl’s blouse. I’d seen one under here the other day, and it was almost the size of my fist. Boyd McKenna would crap his pants, and oh, how I would laugh.
"You touch me, you die, McKenna," I warned, directing the sound towards the feet of the bigger, older boy.
Talking of fists, what Mason said next made the fingers of one hand tighten. I was skinny, but I threw a good punch.
"Whatever. You’re a girl and a short arse. You’re not big enough to take me on, Brat." Dang it, he knew it was me. My cover really was blown.
"I’d punch you in your fat face, but I don’t hurt animals," I snickered. I always compared Mason to a stray dog, like the ones who visited the bins at the back of Crawley’s Butchers. He was big, hairy, and just as wild. He was probably hairy on the inside, too. I told all my friends that I suspected Mason was part Yeti.
He didn’t reply to my animal comment. Not that he would have been able to come up with something better. I was the master of name-calling. I even bested Mattie when he thought he was on a roll.
The silence stretched on, and I wondered if they’d left.
After around five minutes, I started getting pins and needles in my toes and was forced to shuffle forward. My T-shirt and jeans were proper grubby and I longed to pull some denim out of my bottom, I had a monster of a wedgy, but I needed both arms to stop myself from face-planting.
I always got to my hidey-hole by lifting a loose plank, which allowed me to enter the crawlspace there. Mr and Mrs McKenna’s massive, ugly house was on stilts, and the foundations were covered with pieces of wood. They were painted on the outside to match the house, although it still looked like a bugger (my mother’s words, not mine).
They seemed to use the space mainly for storing old bits of machinery. Although one time, I found a bag full of magazines with girls’ boobies in them. Weird.
It was dark and dirty under there, but I was fine. I wasn’t scared of anything. Not even Mr McKenna himself. A bull of a man, with fly-away eyebrows and a mean-looking jaw. His hands were the size of dinner plates and he enjoyed using his fists occasionally.
He was strange looking too. I was sure he and his wife were the same person; they looked so alike, and you hardly ever saw them in the same room. I’d made a bet with my best friend Betty about that.
Mr McKenna had an odd relationship with his kids, especially Mason. They fought, a lot. I remember seeing some right humdingers in the past, but as Mason had gotten older and taller, Mitchell McKenna had become less physical. I suppose if you keep kicking the puppy, eventually, he bites.
I’d heard someone in the village say that Mr McKenna had been poorly recently, but I wasn’t sure what was wrong with him. I remember he’d once given Mason a black eye and how I’d felt sorry for him, but it didn’t last long. Mason was a tough nut and didn’t accept anyone’s pity.
I thought Mr McKenna’s behaviour odd. My Daddy had never hit us which only proved that our family was so much better than theirs.
I was on my tummy, lying flat on the dirt, and I used my elbows to scuffle across the ground, an army tactic my brother had taught me from Call of Duty, a video game we played together. The ‘leopard crawl, he called it.
There was a noise to the left of me, and before I knew what was happening, someone grabbed my leg and started dragging me backwards. My yell was choked out as I sailed past some shrubbery. Grass, leaves, and nettles, smacked me in the face. Feet first, I was roughly yanked out from under the house, my chest trailing through the dried mud. Luckily, I escaped getting stung by the nettles, not as if my attacker would care. I knew it was Mason who held me. Mattie said he was a nasty piece of work.
"Let go, dog face!" I screamed as I managed to flip over onto my back, kicking out at the offending hand that was wrapped around my ankle.
“Nope. Not going to happen. You need to stop sneaking onto our property and trying to take pictures of us, you nosey little bint.” Whatever, I didn’t even have my camera with me.
His hold tightened. Bum, I was done for.
The sky was bright, and my eyes had to adjust after being in semi-darkness for the last half an hour.
Pain shot up my ankle, “Ouch. That hurts.” I hated feeling weak.
My foot was then released and I blinked, looking directly up into the darkest, meanest eyes on the planet. Those belonging to Mason McKenna.
My friend Betty said he was handsome. She was my age and he was fifteen, so that was totally gross; boys were smelly, and I didn’t fancy him at all; I thought he was a proper hog.
"Amy Taylor-Joy, as I expected," Mason sneered. "Now say that to my face, you little witch," he growled down at me. He stood there with his brother by his side, towering into the sky with his arms folded, and my goodness, he was cross. His eyes were doing that bulging thing. I’d joked with Betty that there was a chance he wasn’t from our planet.
"Who let you out of your cage, dog boy?" I shot up at him, now resting back on my elbows.
"Shut up you little shit."
"You just asked me to say it to your face," I pointed out with a snigger.