Page 1
NOAH - SEVEN YEARS OLD
“Vrooom!”
My head jerks up at the sound of my little brother barrelling into my bedroom on his hands and knees, dragging around his monster truck.
“Get out, Jamie,” I huff, lifting the book I’m reading to hide my face from him.
“No! Play with me, Noah. All you do is read!”
He spins in circles on my floor going, “vroom, vroom, vroom,” so loud it hurts my ears and makes my chest feel strange and spiky.
The feeling builds and builds until I can’t hold it any longer.
“Get out of my room!”
“No,” Jamie huffs, turning his back on me. He makes a beeping noise as he reverses the truck. I try to ignore him like Mum tells me to, but all I end up doing is reading the same sentence five times without taking any of it in. I can’t focus on anything but his noise.
“Get out!” I shout again, gripping the book so tight my fingers hurt. Why won’t he listen?
Jamie flinches and stands up, clutching the monster truck to his chest. “Mam said y-you’d play with me,” he says, sniffling.
“Why would I want to play with a baby like you? I don’t even like playing with cars.” I drop my book and get off the bed, snatching the truck from him. Ignoring his cries of protest, I throw it out of the room, cringing as it bounces off the hallway banister and crashes down the stairs.
Jamie stares after it, a look of horror on his face. His bottom lip wobbles and tears gather in his eyes. I wait for him to leave my room to chase after the truck. Instead, he lets out a wail so loud I have to slam my hands over my ears.
My skin prickles all over, and pain shoots through my head.
He needs to shut up—
“BOYS!” Dad’s deep voice growls from downstairs. My breath catches in my throat, and I’m suddenly aware of my heartbeat thumping in my chest as he stomps up the stairs.
“What’s going on? Who threw this?” He holds up the truck.
I back myself up onto my bed, hoping that if I stay quiet, they’ll both leave quicker.
“N-Noah threw it!” Jamie stutters, sniffing and wiping at his wet eyes.
Dad turns to look at me, grey eyes almost hidden beneath his deep scowl. “We don’t throw things, Noah. How many times do I need to tell you?”
I bury myself under my duvet. “He wouldn’t get out of my room!”
Why won’t everyone leave me alone?
Dad sighs. “Noah, I’ve told you before—you call for me or your mam. You do not throw things. What if someone had been walking up the stairs and you’d hit them? You need to stop and think before you do these things.”
There was no time to stop and think. I just needed Jamie to go.
Peeking out from the duvet, I see Jamie standing behind Dad with a grin on his face. It makes me blind with rage.
“It’s not funny!” I shout, throwing the duvet off and jumping out of bed. I charge towards him. “Get out! Get out! Get OUT!” I squeeze my eyes shut, fists clenched so tight they shake.
Dad’s arm wraps around my chest, holding me back. “Jamie, go to your room. I’ll talk to you in a minute.”
When I finally open my eyes, the room’s quiet and Jamie isn’t here. Dad’s still at my back, his forearm a heavy weight on my chest. I focus on the pressure, taking a deep breath to try and calm down.
“That’s right. Good boy, Noah. Deep breaths.” He kisses the top of my head. “I’ll talk to Jamie about staying out of your room, but you need to do your part too. If you’re starting to feel big in here—” he pats my chest “—count to five. If nothing changes, then call for me and I’ll always come.”
“I just wanted to read,” I gasp. “He wouldn’t leave—kept making noises!”
