This is me being a little slow with posts, but I’m still pretty excited about having a piece of fiction in issue #17 – Theft – of The Suburban Review.
Here’s an extract:
I can hear the motorbike before I see it.
In the park some guy is tearing up what’s left of the grass, his motorbike screaming through the high revs. The bike skids in circles, throwing up great waves of dirt. I recognise the blue shirt, the rat’s tail. I cross the road between the shops and the park. He notices me and slows the bike. I know it’s too late to stop. I know if I turn around now, I become an enemy. He comes chugging in my direction, coasting with his feet way out because the bike is so small. I get a flash in my head of him hugging the girl. I want to ask him about it but know I never will. I walk forward.
When I get close enough, he yells over the sound of the idle engine.
He goes, Why aren’t you at school?
Finished, I go.
He goes, You’re that Arcade guy.
His eyes are different; sharper, more alive, and I notice for the first time they’re different colours. One blue as somekinda precious jewel, the other dark, dark brown. He revs the engine and swings away into another half circle. Dirt sprays. The bike straightens and starts to get away from him. He drops the revs and trundles the bike back toward me.
He goes, You want a ride?
I think for what feels like a long time. Yeah, I go.
He slides forward on the seat. I slip on behind. The engine starts to howl. We jerk over the grass until we pick up momentum. Then outta nowhere it’s like nothing could stop us, we’ll keep going forever. It feels good, really good.
To read the rest you’ll need to hassle The Suburban Review for a copy of the magazine…you can do that here.