Hero. Sarah Lean

“They love us.” Jack wagged his tail. “Look at us,” I said grinning down at him. “We’re heroes.”

      When I looked up again, Jupiter had reached down and touched the head of the statue of the lion by his throne. I saw the lion shake the dust from its fur. I saw it open its mouth, come to life and roar.

      I took Jack back to Grizzly’s and opened the door for him. He went in but stopped and looked over his shoulder at me, like he didn’t want to go home just yet. I heard him whine when I closed the door, but there was somewhere else I had to be.

      Warren and all his mates waited in the shadow of the ragged flint and moss of the ancient Roman wall along the edge of the Rec. Warren walked out from amongst them, slow and easy. There was a lot of whispering which for some reason sounded louder in the dark, with only the moon and stars and a couple of street lights making yellowy circles around us.

      “Wasn’t sure you’d come,” Warren said. He sighed. “Thing is, some of us still aren’t sure you’ve got what it takes to hang out with us. You’re going to have to prove yourself first.

      “I thought I already had,” I said.

      “You have to do something … to prove you’re one of us,” he said. The boys parted, showed what they had for me. “You have to push it down the field and send it into the pond.”

      I looked at the old granny mobility scooter that they’d found and it bothered me.

      “Whose is it?” I said.

      “It was abandoned out the back of the chemist’s,” Warren said. “We took it, hid it and waited ’til dark, waited for someone like you.”

      “Why do I have to do it?” I said.

      “We have to be sure you’re on our side,” Warren said.

      “It doesn’t work then? It’s not somebody’s?”

      “It’s useless. We’re doing everyone a favour by getting rid of it, cleaning up the town.” There was a ripple of laughter, but Warren silenced the others. He paced up and down. “Fame,” he said. “They say it’s a fifteen minute thing.” He draped his arm over my shoulders. His armpit was a bit rank. “But you want more than that, don’t you, Leo? You’re proving that you’ve got what it takes to be one of us.”

      I wasn’t going to be a gladiator in the real world, not when the nearest we have are boxers and wrestlers. I wanted to be like a gladiator though. I wanted other people to think I was fierce, brave, strong and worthwhile. Which was entirely different.

      I dropped my bike. Took an uneasy breath. Walked over to the scooter. They couldn’t see what I could see: me, the victor, and the abandoned chariot of a defeated gladiator.

      “Le-o!” they chanted again.

      The moon made a shimmering target on the dark pond, like a trap door in the amphitheatre where all the destruction, the losers, the broken and defeated things go. I pushed hard against the mobility scooter and ran with it, down the slope, and let it go. The scooter tipped over into the pond. It bubbled and sank, disappeared into the black depths. I punched the air. They laughed, roared and cheered my name. It made my teeth tingle. This was being a gladiator for real.