Free Danny Allen Was Here by Phil Cummings Page A

leave me here, dooooon’t.’
    ‘You wait. We’ll get you in a minute.’
    ‘But I . . .’
    ‘No buts. Just wait in the fort and don’t come out. Got it?’
    Vicki nodded. ‘Well, hurry up then,’ she whined.
    Sam and Danny stood side by side. Staying close together they crept across the playground. Sam clutched his stick, ready to strike, just in case.
    They reached Mark without any problems. Stanley hadn’t even noticed them. The grass was good on this side of the fence.
    Mark was moaning when the brothers knelt at his side. He stirred as Sam moved to look at the gash.
    ‘What? Who?’ Mark mumbled incoherently. He lifted his head. ‘Where is the . . . ? Oh, my head hurts.’
    Danny stuck a hand over Mark’s mouth. ‘Shhh!’
    Sam looked at the gash and screwed up his face. ‘That’s horrible,’ he said.
    Mark’s head fell to the ground with a thud and he groaned again.
    ‘Come on, hurry up and grab his arms,’ said Danny. ‘We’ll have to drag him.’
    Sam grabbed an arm and they began dragging. Mark’s head wobbled and his body left a wide trail. He opened his eyes. ‘What . . . what are you doing?’ he asked dozily. ‘Get off me! I can . . .’
    ‘You can’t do anything!’ hissed Danny. ‘Just shut up!’
    ‘Yeah shut up!’ Sam agreed.
    They dragged Mark into the fort and sat him up. He suddenly remembered what had happened. ‘Oh no! Where is that beast? Where is it?’
    ‘He’s over there,’ said Danny.
    Stanley looked so peaceful and harmless. He occasionally lifted his head and gazed around as he munched.
    The children took the opportunity to slink out of the playground. Danny and Sam supported Mark all the way. At the Mundowie Hall they stopped to sit at the feet of the soldier statue and rest. Sam looked at Mark’s head. It wasn’t as bad as it had first seemed. ‘We’d better get you home. Your mum will have to take you to the hospital in Port Bilton.’
    Danny grinned wryly when he said, ‘You might need stitches.’
    Sam lifted the arm of his shirt to show the scar from the cut he’d got when surfing the Everest Dune. ‘You won’t need nine like me though.’
    Mark bowed his head and buried his face in his hands. ‘No, I won’t need any, I won’t.’ He babbled incoherently. ‘If I do, I’ll need ten at least. But they’re not poking a needle and thread into me.’
    ‘It’s okay,’ said Danny, keen to make Mark as uncomfortable as he’d made Stanley. ‘I watched them do Sam. They push the needle into your skin and when they pull the huge silver needle through,’ (Danny pinched his skin on his arm and stretched it) ‘your skin stretches up and . . .’
    ‘Shut up!’ Mark grumbled. He went suddenly pale and hung his head again. ‘And anyway, my mum’s not home.’
    ‘Where is she?’ asked Vicki, looking up at the soldier and the sky beyond. She hated blood as well.
    ‘She’s in the city.’
    Vicki scrunched up her face and closed one eye to find out if she could see up the nose of the soldier statue. ‘Why?’ she asked matter-of-factly.
    Mark paused. ‘She’s looking for somewhere to live.’
    Vicki opened both eyes and looked quickly at Mark. ‘Are you moving away, Mark Thompson?’
    Mark didn’t respond immediately. Vicki nudged him. ‘Well? Are you?’
    Mark shook his head. ‘No . . . just my mum,’ he answered softly.
    There was silence.
    Vicki fired another innocent question. ‘What about your dad?’
    There was another pause. ‘ . . . Nah, he says he hates the city.’
    ‘But that means they’ll live in different houses, doesn’t it?’
    Sam hit Vicki on the arm. ‘Stop asking so many questions, Vicki. We have to get home.’
    Sam helped Mark to his feet. ‘I tell you what, Thommo, if your dad can’t take you to Port Bilton then my mum or dad will. You have to be checked for concussion at least.’
    Mark didn’t say anything except, ‘Jeez my head hurts.’

    A few days later Danny was at the playground again.