Justin survived his first week at school.
With Boy at his side, he managed to act out his role as an average member of teenage society, albeit an increasingly isolated one. Friends gave up trying to engage him in conversation: his clothes were weird, for one thing, and he no longer answered to his name, a fact they found exceptionally irritating. A decreasing number of people bothered talking to him before school, sitting with him at the library, or asking when he was going to lunch. He hadn’t realized his new identity would be so lonely.
Peter Prince, however, chose the shower next to his after PE. ‘Hey,’ he said cheerfully.
Justin looked up, grateful to be acknowledged. ‘Hey.’
‘Where’s your dog?’ Peter’s voice came from within the gushing stream of water.
Justin thought he must have misheard. ‘Pardon?’
‘Your dog.’
‘Yes?’
‘Isn’t he with you today?’
Justin looked at Peter. ‘Ha bloody ha.’
Peter stuck his head out of the stream of water, his features dripping. He smiled shyly. ‘I love greyhounds.’
Justin stared. ‘My dog is imaginary.’
‘Oh.’ Peter looked interested. ‘That’s unusual.’
Justin put his head under the water. When he emerged, Peter was still looking at him. ‘Less work,’ he offered cheerily. ‘If the dog’s imaginary, I mean. Not so much grooming, feeding, etc’
Justin continued to stare as Peter turned the massive, old-fashioned tap to OFF, wrapped himself in a damp greyish towel the size of a dishcloth, and dripped across the uneven tiled floor to his locker.
The following day, Peter greeted Justin with a smile and fell into step with him as he walked home from school. Looking down to the approximate area of Justin’s left heel, Peter added, ‘Hiya, boy.’
Boy trotted over and leant against him briefly as Justin watched in wonder. The boundary between reality and fantasy wobbled dangerously.
Peter pulled a tennis ball out of his bag, and threw it hard across the ground. The dog sprang forward and shot off, moving so fast he blurred. ‘Wow,’ Peter said happily, ‘what a beauty. Very ancient breed, you know. Kept by kings. Pharaohs used them for hunting lions.’
Justin looked at him.
‘Second only to cheetahs in speed. Huge hearts in relation to their weight; same size as ours.’
Justin thought about this. Big hearts, long legs. All they needed was a slightly bigger brain and they’d rule the world. He kept walking, with his greyhound and Peter Prince lolloping at his side. ‘How do you know so much about greyhounds?’
Peter looked embarrassed. ‘I read a lot.’
They walked in silence for a while, Peter contemplating greyhounds and Justin contemplating Peter. They didn’t seem to have much in common. Did Peter imagine they might be friends? He’d had friends in the past, mainly based on mutual need – another person to kick a ball with, someone who had better games at home. Peter appeared to be without motive in attaching himself to Justin and Boy. He seemed content just to keep them company.
At Justin’s house, Peter waved and walked on. Justin stared after him but the other boy didn’t look back.
Oh well, he thought. At least Boy likes him. The two might have been old friends, the way they fell in together.
But Boy’s my dog!
Maybe it’s a plot, he thought. Maybe they’re working together. Maybe Peter is Boy’s human spy contact, brought in as back-up.
He looked at Boy. The dog had managed to wedge his narrow back under the kitchen radiator for warmth and was snoring contentedly.
I can’t even trust my own imaginary dog, Justin thought. How much lower can a person get?