Another Day in Paradise

Another Day In Paradise

Michael and Diane ran a few meters ahead, leading me towards their building site. Michael was my best-friend, and Diane, well, she was his sister.
I was older than Mike. I was 11, and he was still 10. Diane was older than both of us, she went to older kids school. I don't know how old she was.
The road turned to the right, ran on a few meters, and then stopped abruptly. The track that ran on was just rocks embedded into dry sand. Running around the site was a mesh fence. I think it was to stop kids from getting in, but it didn't.
Mike went to a piece of the fence, and lifted it up harshly.
"Go on, crawl in." He told me.
"Umm." I wasn't sure, if my dad caught me he would've hit me.
"Look, it'll be okay. No-one will find out." Diane reassured me.
"O.K." I smiled excitedly, and began to crawl underneath the sharp metal. One of the protruding spikes gauged a length of flesh from my back. On the other side, I stood up, and rubbed the cut area. Seeing blood I said; "Shit!"
I looked around, but no one minded.
Diane came after me, and lifted the fence for Mike to do the same. When he was through, he said; "I know a cool place to go. They never lock the doors on one of the houses. There are loads of boxes inside, you know like the ones you get for Christmas. We'll get inside, it'll be rad."

I walked down the stairs noiselessly. This was the last weekend before Christmas. I was humming happily; "Jingle bells. Batman smells. Robin flew away. Batmobile lost a wheel on the motorway. Hey."
Slowly I opened the lounge door. It was seven, no one else would be up until at least eight. I could see the Christmas tree lights shining on the curtains. I loved the way they went across the tree like a snake.
Underneath the tree were my presents. Two were really close to the edge. I went to them, and pushed them in. Thinking briefly, I lifted one, and rattled it.
I crossed my legs, and hopped about, you know, like when your really desperately to go for a pee, and you can't. Sighing, I put it back, and turned on the T.V.
Even when I was watching the T.V. I could feel the presents, just like the smell of fish-fingers before tea. I went and made my breakfast.
When I had finished eating, I made a decision. I reached out, and took two of the presents into the dining room.
Quickly I unwrapped the first, loving the sensation of Christmas, it was some Ghostbusters figures. I unwrapped the second, a Boglin.
I played with them continuously, loving the smell of new plastic, just like how tyres smelt. I heard a stirring from upstairs, and suddenly I had butterflies in my stomach.

I stood on the pavement watching everyone run around the blue car, that was parked on our Stingers. They were all laughing, and giggling, and poking sticks at the tyres.
I went over to Kevin, and said;
"Whatcha doin'"
"Shh." he whispered, "We’re letting the tyres down on this car!"
"Won't we get done?" I asked.
"Nah. Look, I show you how to do it." Kevin led me to one of the tyres.
"Watchin'?" I nodded.
Kevin pressed the stick into the tyre, there was a hissing sound as the air gushed out.
"Cor!" I said. "Can I have your stick?"
"No! Go find your own."
"Pansy."
I went away, and began to look for a stick. Once I found one, I came back to the car, and let the air out like everyone else.
After doing this for hours and hours, everyone suddenly ran away from the blue car, and hid behind a red one. I followed everyone else.
"Why'd we run away?" I asked Mike.
"Look." He said, pointing to a man walking to the car. We all waited quietly. The man got into the car, turned the engine on, and drove away, all four tyres flat.
We all fell about laughing.

I jumped over a tyre, running after Mike, who was racing me towards the house. He got there before me.
"Beetcha." He said out of breath.
"I do long distance." I told him truthfully.
"Come on, let's go inside."
I followed Mike in. Diane was already inside, holding a can of paint, and a paintbrush.
We started by painting things like "Hello!" on the wall, and then our names, and then we started swearing. Some of the words I hadn't even heard of.
In the corner of one of the downstairs rooms was a packet of nails, and an old hammer. I nailed the lid of the can to the floor. Then we just started to nail anything.
Suddenly I got an idea.
"Give's the hammer." I told Mike. He did.
"Whatcha gonna do?" He asked.
"Watch." I lifted the hammer and slammed it into the door. A large lump of wood shot out across the room.
"Whoa, cool."
After each hitting the door a few times we got bored.
From his jacket Mike produced some matches.
"Come on. Let's make a bonfire."
We all went outside, and found bits of cardboards, and piled them together. The wind kept blowing the match out, so it took ages to light the pile.
When the fire was going nicely Diane said; "Go and climb that ladder." I looked around, and saw the ladder she meant. It was humungous, taller than our house!
"No, you go first."
"What all the way to the top?" Diane asked.
"Yeah. Go on. Or are you a chicken?"
"Alright then I will."
Diane paced over to the ladder, and began to climb. It took her ages to get to the top. When she did, she smiled and waved down to us.
Suddenly from a few roads away there was; "Diane, get down from
there, and come home!"
Me and Mike exchanged glances.
"Shit." We said in unison.
I kicked over the crate I had been sat on, and began to go back, worried of what dad was going to do to me.

"Where are your other presents?" My dad asked me.
"What other presents?" I asked innocently.
"Don't mess around Sean. The ones that Auntie Jill gave you."
"I didn't get any presents from Auntie Jill."
My dad was getting more angry. I tried not to make eye contact with him.
"I'll smack you!" My dads voice became louder, and more hostile, I began to get worried.
"Umm." I tried to stall, hoping he would forget.
The hand hit me just above the ear, clipping my scalp. Not really hurting, but a
note of things to come. I began to cry.
"They're in the dining room."
My dad grabbed my hand, and dragged me into the dining room.
"Where?"
My lower lip began to wobble backwards, and forwards.
"Daddy please don't smack me."
"Where?" He asked again, this time more impatiently.
"Behind the fire," I said between snivels. I had carefully placed them behind the smell electric radiator, in hope that dad wouldn't have found them.
Dad went to them and lifted each up, seeing the torn paper lying on the floor. Standing up, Dad grabbed my had, and dragged me back into the lounge.
"Dad, please don't hit me."
My Dad sat down on the sofa, one knee further out than the other. He lay me down so that my bum was just above his calf.
The hand came down heavily, making me wince, and start to cry.
And then the second time.
"Dad, that's enough dad, I won't to it again. Promise." The hand kept coming down. After the fourth strike I lost count.