Free The Runners by Fiachra Sheridan

right. We could get in trouble. My mam will kill me if she finds out.’
    ‘How will she find out?’
    ‘I don’t know. I’m nervous.’
    ‘It’s just a video.’
    ‘It’s not just a video.’
    ‘You have to think it is. Just like the jeans. If I walk out of the shop thinking I’m going to be caught, I will be caught. I’ll look guilty if I start panicking.’
    ‘I’m starting to panic.’
    ‘Turn around and go home then.’
    They stopped on top of the bridge. Bobby leaned on the wall looking into the canal below.
    ‘I’ll knock for you in the morning. We can go and spend my tenner.’
    ‘You can keep the tenner, I’m coming with you,’ said Bobby.
    ‘No panic allowed.’
    ‘None.’
    Bobby knew he couldn’t turn back. He had been fighting for acceptance from Jay for years. Bobby knew he was a chicken sometimes. Jay was never a chicken. Whether it was robbing jeans or orchards or orange juice, Jay never showed any fear. He believed he could do anything. Bobby wanted to be like Jay and have no fear. He didn’t want to be seen as different, and he certainly didn’t want to be considered a chicken. If Jay had decided to turn back, Bobby would have turned back with him.
    ‘Will we jog down? That will take your mind off it.’
    Jogging didn’t keep either of their minds off it. They dropped the video off and looked at the fellas hanging around the flats in a different way.
    ‘I’m not delivering any more videos,’ Bobby announced just before they were about to get in the ring.
    ‘OK.’
    ‘Are you serious?’
    ‘Yeah. One more and then we’ll stop.’
    ‘Why one more?’
    ‘Have we got a deal?’
    ‘Come on lads, you’re delaying everyone,’ Anto shouted at them.
    ‘Have we got a deal, Bobby?’
    ‘Right, one more. If you promise to stop.’
    ‘Are you chatting or boxing?’
    ‘Chatting and boxing, Anto. Muhammad Ali could do it.’
    ‘You’re far from Muhammad Ali, Jay. Quit the chatting. Three one-minute rounds.’
    They boxed as hard as they could for the three minutes. You didn’t have time to think about anything when somebody was throwing punches. The feeling of a punch flush on the nose hurt, but made Bobby smile at the same time. He had learned how to keep his composure when hit. Anto always told them to pretend like it didn’t hurt. ‘Smile back at your opponent,’ he would say. ‘You have to have a poker face.’ Jay couldn’t do that. When Bobby caught him with a flush punch, he would go mad throwing as many punches as he could with no coordination whatsoever. Bobby could easily duck out of the way. They both loved bloody noses. They were the sign of a successful night in the ring.
    ‘I’ll see youse tomorrow. Call over at lunch time,’ Anto told them quietly as they left the club.
    Jay was giddy and had the usual bounce in his step. Bobby walked much slower, Jay telling him to ‘hurry up’ every time he fell a few steps behind.
    ‘Are we going to tell him we are just stopping?’
    ‘You’ll see,’ said Jay, frustrating Bobby by withholding information.
    ‘What are we going to do?’
    ‘I have a plan.’
    ‘What is it?’
    ‘Do you promise to go along with what I say?’
    ‘How can I promise if I don’t know what you’re going to say?’
    ‘What if we get robbed on our way to do a delivery?’
    ‘What?’ Bobby interrupted.
    ‘Listen, will you? If the video gets robbed before we deliver it, then Anto will stop us delivering them. We won’t have to say anything.’
    ‘That’s your master plan?’
    ‘Yeah. It’s perfect.’
    ‘It’s stupid.’
    ‘What do you suggest, Bobby the brainbox?’
    ‘We just tell him we’re stopping.’
    ‘OK. Anto, we’re not delivering the videos any more because we know what’s in them. Is that what you’re going to say?’
    Bobby knew Jay had a point, but he didn’t think his plan would work.
    ‘Bobby, I want to stop too. But we can’t say it to him or he’ll know we opened it.’
    ‘Right,’ said Bobby