Hero. Sarah Lean

about that dog, except he was new here in our road. I don’t mean he looked old, because he didn’t. He was almost buzzing with life. There was something ancient about him though. Like one of the gold Roman coins in our museum. Sort of shiny and fresh on the outside, but with years and years of history worn into them.

      “He’s not mine,” Grizzly said. “This here is Jack Pepper.” The little dog watched Grizzly’s broad face and his tail swayed at the sound of his own name.

      “He belongs to Lucy, my daughter. She’s asked me to look after him for a couple of weeks while she takes herself off for some holiday sunshine over the other side of the world.” He winked at Jack. “We’re keeping each other company for a bit.”

      Grizzly steadied himself against the wall so I offered him my shoulder to help him up. He was heavy. His joints creaked and clunked like a worn-out machine and he groaned. Jack Pepper stood between us, looking up as if he wanted to know everything that was going on with Grizzly so he could help. Jack didn’t seem to understand that he wasn’t even as tall as my knee.

      My bike was twisted, but Grizzly held the front wheel between his knees and pulled the handlebars with one almighty yank until it was straight again.

      “Should do it for now,” he said, “but you’ll have to get down to TrailBlaze to see if they can do something about those brakes.”

      He looked at me for a long time before nodding towards the fallen bin, and the rubbish strewn along the pavement. There was a smell of rot and something sharp.

      “Jack had his nose to the front door so we came out to look and see if cats were getting in the rubbish.”

      “I didn’t see any cats,” I said. “Mrs Pardoe’s big ginger cat went in dad’s shop once and stole a chicken sandwich, right off the side.”

      “And who wouldn’t want some of your dad’s delicious food, eh?” Grizzly laughed. “Hear that, Jack? Maybe I’ll be treating you too!”

      I picked up the bin, then the empty soup tins and old teabags and threw them back in. Jack Pepper sniffed and sniffed. He didn’t seem to mind whether they were good or bad smells: he just enjoyed sniffing them. I tried to put the lid back on, but it was bent and didn’t fit properly.

      Grizzly took the bin and put it back in his front garden, rested the dented lid on top.

      “Best keep this out of your way, hey, son?” He smiled, his small eyes shining under his broad lined forehead. He nodded towards my helmet. “Hard to see out of that, eh?”

      “Oh, this!” I took my cardboard gladiator helmet off, embarrassed that I’d forgotten I had it on. But Grizzly wasn’t laughing at me. He seemed quite impressed actually. “It’s for a presentation on Romans we have to do at school next week. I’m a gladiator but I don’t like standing up in front of the class.”

      “Why’s that then, son?”

      In all the imaginary battles that I’d fought in Clarendon Road I could make things turn out just how I wanted (except for today). But things weren’t like that in the real world.

      I shrugged. “The kids at school always look bored whenever I talk about something, and our teacher doesn’t notice you unless you’re really clever or really stupid. They think I’m lame, and that gladiators are too. But they’re not.”

      “I see.” Grizzly frowned. “George helping you with your presentation?”

      “Yeah,” I sighed, “he’s better at research and words than me. I made this instead.” I held out my helmet to show him. “It’s made of cardboard but I painted it.”

      Grizzly beamed. “Would you look at that!” he said peering closer. “Thought it was real bronze for a minute.”

      “Yeah?”

      “Had me fooled!”

      I liked that he said that, but then I checked the helmet over and saw that the crest had been crushed when I fell.

      “Maybe I should redesign it or make some more armour, you know, like for protection or something.”

      “So it matters what other people think, eh?” Grizzly said.

      Of course it did.

      Grizzly called Jack Pepper to come in, closed the gate and headed for his front door. The little dog stopped and stared at me through the bars of the gate.

      “Tell your dad I’ll see him Friday,” Grizzly said. He whistled for Jack Pepper to come but that little dog stood there for the longest time with his tail quivering as if he’d rather come with me and be a gladiator too. Grizzly whistled again and Jack followed this time, still watching me, and I thought I heard Grizzly say, “He won’t win battles by having better armour, will he, Jack?”

      

      Everybody had heard about the meteor that was coming our way. They said we’d even be able to see it flash across the sky from here. I looked out of my bedroom window and imagined Jupiter frowning down at me, disappointed that I’d lost my latest battle.

      Jupiter was king of the sky and thunder; he held lightning in his bare hands, ready to hurl it at anybody who annoyed him. I wondered if he threw meteors too. I imagined Jupiter resting his chin on his fist.

      Where’s the show then? he grumbled. Where are all the gladiators?

      My little sister, Milly, came into my bedroom and stood beside me by the window. She pressed her head against the pane and looked up at the empty sky.

      “Is the meteor coming?” she said.

      “No, not yet,” I said.

      Mrs Pardoe’s ginger cat was in the road though and I watched it to see if it was going to go to Grizzly’s bin.

      “What are you looking at then?” Milly said.

      I picked her up and sat her on the windowsill. “Look. Watch its shadow.”

      The cat trotted through the beams of the street lights.

      “It’s a small cat … now it’s growing and growing … now it’s huge!” The shadow shrunk and grew, shrunk and grew again as the animal trotted along the pavement. “It’s pretending to be a lion.”

      “Is it?” she gasped.

      The cat slunk along, pressed tight against the wall, its tail swinging and twitching.

      “It’s stalking, catching prey,” I whispered, making it all dramatic.

      Milly’s eyes were wide. “You mean it’s chasing a mouse, but actually it’s pretending it’s going to catch a … a hippopotamus?”

      I don’t know why she said hippopotamus. “Well, yeah, but probably an antelope or zebra, that kind of thing.”

      “It’s like real but not real,” she said, “and magical.” I smiled. The cat disappeared over a wall. Milly sighed. “Will you come downstairs now? We’re all waiting.”

      “Hang on a minute,” I said. I thought I’d show her the helmet and see what she thought, see if she could imagine it too. “Close your eyes a second.”

      “I can’t close my eyes,” she said, dead serious.

      “Why not?”

      “When I do, I keep seeing the meteor and it scares me. What’s going to happen to us?”

      “Nothing’s going to happen,” I said. “It’s just going to burn bright for a minute and then it’ll be gone. It’ll be pretty. You’ll like it.”

      “Really?”