Boyd managed to get away after tea. Fishfingers, frozen peas and oven chips made a warm lump in his stomach. Johnny and Fraggle were meant to be meeting him on the corner of Main Road and Hill View. Boyd touched the cans of pop he’d stashed in his hoodie’s front pocket. He’d had to walk like a crab to avoid shaking them up. His mam had nearly caught him.

‘Why are you walking like that?’

‘I dunno,’ he’d answered and she just said, ‘I don’t get you kids’ and let it lie. He managed to swipe a packet of rich tea biscuits from the kitchen cupboard before he legged it.

The others were late anyway. Boyd hopped from foot to foot before he remembered the pop cans. He stacked them up one on top of another and practiced jumping over them. First he tried two foot jumps and then he tried hopping over them. Just as he was about to attempt the ambitious backwards one footed hop Johnny said, ‘What are you doing?’

Boyd’s foot caught the top can and the whole stack fell and rolled a bit of a way.

‘I dunno.’ He chased and retrieved the pop cans.

‘Did you just get pop? I thought you would at least’ve got some lager or something.’

Boyd shrugged. It hadn’t occurred to him. He held up the packet of rich tea biccies, which was now slightly crushed. Johnny punched him in the shoulder, ‘You’re such a geek. It dun’t matter, look what I got.’ Johnny held up a small half-empty bottle on whose silver label a black and red eagle opened its wings.

‘Is it whiskey?’ asked Boyd in a whisper.

‘Fucking hell Boyd,’ Johnny hit him again. ‘It’s me dad’s vodka. I got it from one of his stashes. He’ll just think it was him what drunk it and he forgot.’

‘Oh.’

Fraggle turned up on his fixie with a rucksack bulging on his back.

‘Where’ve you been knobhead?’ said Johnny, but he didn’t hit Fraggle and his voice went all taper-y at the end.

‘Getting supplies lads.’ Fraggle made that grin that sent his freckles spreading out all over his face. All of them was about the same age but Fraggle was the coolest. He got the best stuff. Boyd asked for a fixie every Christmas and birthday. His mam had finally got him this second hand mountain bike which was all right but it wasn’t what he’d asked for. She’d right brayed him when he complained. She said did he know how much this cost and she wasn’t made of money.

Fraggle had a big brother who was at college. Boyd was sick of being an only child. He wished his dad had hung around long enough for him to have got a brother and all.

Fraggle opened his rucksack so they could see what he’d brought. There was a box of matches, a full bottle of that vodka and a freezer bag with brownish things in it. ‘Mushrooms lads, magic mushrooms,’ Fraggle said, plucking out the bag and shaking it in their faces. ‘Tate picked a load last weekend. He said we could have these ones.’ Fraggle always got this puffed out chest when he talked about his big brother. Tate was well cool.

Fraggle got off his bike. The three boys walked together along the beck until they got to a bit where a kind of path led into the woods. It was already getting dark. The air had that funny October moistness to it, and it smelt a bit of bonfires. Boyd realised he’d forgotten his torch. He got out the phone his mam gave him when she started letting him go out on his own. It was crap, but it might give off a bit of light. Fraggle got two torches from his backpack. He gave one to Boyd. ‘Tate let me borrow his torch for the night.’

The boys helped Fraggle hide his bike behind a fell down tree and set off down the almost path. The spot they were heading for they’d been to a few times in the daylight. Johnny showed them it years ago when they were still in junior school and they were meant to be larking at his house. Him and Fraggle had been here at night before, but this was the first time his mam had let Boyd stay out at night. She was too over protective. He was eleven now. He should’ve been staying over at mates’ houses for years.

The boys reached the clearing, a rough circle of grass dipping down toward the shallow rocky brook. In the centre of the clearing there was a pile of ashes with lumps of blackened and charred log remnants.

‘Nice one,’ said Johnny. He punched the air for no reason and whooped. The lads dropped their supplies next to the old fire remains. They fanned out looking for wood to build the fire back up. Johnny found an armful of twigs, Fraggle had a few fat braches and Boyd was struggling to carry a mossy bough.

‘What the fuck Boyd,’ Johnny said, but Fraggle interrupted him: ‘Nah, it’s good.’

Boyd and Johnny watched Fraggle build a little tepee from the dry sticks and got a fire blazing. After a bit, he put Boyd’s contribution near the flames until they licked around it and the boys could see a red glow coming from deep in the wood’s innards. When he was sure of it, Fraggle moved the bough right on top of the fire. ‘We’ll probably need more wood, but let’s have a drink first.’

They sat around the fire passing Johnny’s dad’s vodka between them. Boyd wet his lips with the vodka first but that almost made him gip so he ended up having to down a massive gulp. It made him cough and shake his head. The other two weren’t doing any better with the booze. He got a spike of abandon in his tummy. ‘Whoohooo,’ he shouted. He jumped up and did a cowboys and indians dance around the fire. The others laughed. They got up too and joined him, dancing round like dorks. They were his best mates.

The lads went to find more wood for the fire. Cocky now, Boyd dragged what could’ve used to’ve been half a tree back from the woods. The others nearly pissed themselves laughing. ‘Go on then,’ Fraggle said.

Boyd heaved it onto the fire yelling, ‘have it!’ The fire nearly went out, but giggling, the boys managed to prop the log up a bit on some of the other sticks and that. The log popped and sparked. The clearing smelt like bonfire night, darkly textured and a bit scary. ‘It’s time for the mushrooms,’ announced Fraggle.

As though they were taking part in an ancient forest ritual they each picked out of the freezer bag a spindly stalk with a bobble hat top. Boyd held his between his finger and his thumb. How does this work? He looked at his mates. Johnny was giggling already. Fraggle had his poking out the top of his fist, held in front of his eyes. ‘Right then lads,’ Fraggle said, ‘down the hatch.’ All three of them got the mushrooms into their mouths somehow. They didn’t taste that bad. Boyd was pretty disappointed to start with. He didn’t feel any different. Johnny did this dramatic collapse onto his back and said in a dippy hippy voice, ‘I’m high lads, high as a kite.’

‘Oh yeah,’ said Fraggle, ‘I don’t think it’s meant to act that quick.’

Boyd got out the rich tea biscuits. ‘Anyone want one? I’ve got pop and all. Three types.’

‘Can I have the lemonade Boyd?’

‘Can I get the cola?’

‘Yeah that’s fine.’

Boyd dished out the biscuits and pop and then laid down on the twigs and hard mud. He looked up as stars came out from behind clouds. The stars held hands and skipped around. These are my best mates, he thought as he listened to Fraggle and Johnny, and his tummy burned like a meteor of love.