Stand By Me. S.D. Robertson

The trees thinned out, letting in the light and revealing an open field on one side and the stream her dad had mentioned on the other, with more fields beyond. The drizzle was easing off too, so Lisa was happy to keep on going.

      She strode along for a hundred metres or so, breathing deeply in a bid to unwind, to try to forget about her irritating brother and the disaster of relocating to a new part of the country, cut off from all her friends.

      That was easier said than done, though. Since the move, she’d barely thought of anything else other than how much she missed the gang. They’d all promised to write regularly. She’d even spoken briefly to Paula, her best friend, on the phone yesterday evening after Mum had agreed she could call to pass on the new number. But it wasn’t the same. Plus Paula had been in a rush, which hadn’t helped. She’d been about to leave for the cinema with Zara, a likely candidate for new best friend, leading Lisa to feel even more cut off than before.

      They were all getting ready to start at the same secondary school in September – Oak Park, where Lisa had always expected to go too. They were probably all together right now, chatting and giggling on the swings in the park and pretending not to notice the boys showing off on their BMXs. Meanwhile, here she was. Why did Dad have to get a stupid new job that meant they had to move? And why so far away? It had taken ages for them to travel by car from Nottingham, where there was loads to do, to this isolated village north of Manchester. She might as well have been on the other side of the world. She’d been popular before. Now she was a no-mates loser with nothing better to do than go for a walk alone.

      Thinking about the injustice of it all brought tears to her eyes. Meanwhile, she reached a poorly maintained stretch of the road and found herself having to dodge an increasing number of rain-filled potholes and mud patches. Still she continued until, misjudging one particular spot, her trainer-clad right foot ended up ankle-deep in cold, mucky water.

      ‘Yuck!’ she shouted, lurching forward only to lose her balance, slip and fall flat on her bum in the mud.

      It was too much. Rather than getting up, Lisa slumped where she was on the ground and started sobbing. She let out all her frustrations in one almighty wail and the tears gushed like waterfalls down her cheeks.

      Eventually the moment passed and, coming to her senses, Lisa realised how ridiculous she must look. Keen to avoid anyone finding her in this state, she levered herself up and assessed the damage. Okay, her jeans, shoes and socks were filthy and wet; she’d probably also collected a few bruises. But despite her over-the-top reaction, it clearly wasn’t the end of the world. Thank goodness there was no one around to see, she thought, when a voice cut through the silence.

      ‘Ouch!’

      The sound, which came from nearby, gave Lisa a fright. ‘Who’s there?’ she snapped, scanning her surroundings but seeing no one in either direction on the lane, nor in any of the surrounding fields.

      ‘Hello?’ she said in the most confident voice she could muster. ‘Can I help you?’

      What a ridiculous thing to say, she thought, waiting for an answer that didn’t come. She’d almost convinced herself that she’d imagined the sound, when there was movement and a loud rustling from a thick bush on the other side of the stream. Then: ‘Ouch! Get off me.’

      It was clear this time that the voice was high-pitched – a child’s. To Lisa’s ear, well-practised from seven years at primary school, it definitely sounded like a boy.

      ‘I can see you there in the bush,’ she said. ‘What are you: some kind of peeping Tom, having a laugh at my expense? My dad’s a policeman, you know. I’ll report you to him, shall I? You won’t be laughing then.’

      ‘No, please don’t,’ the voice replied from the bush. ‘I’m not spying on you or laughing.’

      ‘Why are you hiding in that bush, then? Come out here and show yourself.’

      There was a pause before the reply. ‘I can’t.’

      ‘Fine. I’ll go and get my dad.’

      ‘No! Please, I’m begging you.’

      Lisa was surprised how well her empty threat was working. She had no idea what this boy looked like, never mind his name or where he lived. And what were the odds of her being able to bring her dad back here in time to catch him? Whoever he was, he obviously wasn’t very bright. How else could you explain it?

      ‘Show yourself,’ she said. ‘Final warning.’

      ‘Okay, okay. Give me a second.’

      There was some more rustling, another ‘ouch’ and then a beetroot head appeared, peering out from one side of the bush, mole eyes beneath a shock of dark curly hair.

      ‘There you are,’ Lisa said to the boy, who looked a little younger than her eleven years. ‘That wasn’t so difficult, was it? So why don’t you come properly out, then?’

      He shook his head vigorously, causing his chubby cheeks to wobble from side to side. ‘I can’t, seriously. Please don’t make me.’

      ‘Don’t be ridiculous. Of course you can. What—’

      ‘I’m not wearing any clothes, okay,’ he blurted out, his face turning an even deeper shade of red. ‘They stole them – and my glasses. I can barely even see you, whoever you are.’

      Lisa couldn’t believe what she was hearing – and yet she knew without doubt that this boy was telling the truth. The pain in his voice was all too real. Then there was the look of misery and shame on his face. The look of a victim. Suddenly everything had changed.

      ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I had no idea. Who did this to you?’

      ‘Some boys from my class at school. They invited me out to play with them. I thought they were being nice at last. I should have known better.’

      ‘So have they left you totally, um, naked?’ Lisa asked, feeling her own cheeks burning.

      ‘I’m in my pants and socks,’ he replied.

      Lisa let out a quiet sigh of relief. ‘Any idea what they did with the rest of your stuff?’

      He shook his head. ‘Not a clue.’

      ‘Why were you crying out before? It sounded like you were in pain.’

      ‘I was. I still am. There are some nettles back here that I stung my legs on, and quite a few creepy-crawlies.’

      ‘Oh dear.’

      ‘It’s my glasses I’m most bothered about. My mum will kill me when she finds out. I only just got them. They were a gift for finishing primary school.’

      This got Lisa’s attention. ‘Wait. Do you start secondary school next month?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘You must be eleven like me. I’m Lisa, by the way. What’s your name?’

      ‘Elliot.’

      ‘Nice to meet you, Elliot. I’m new in the village.’

      ‘Oh, are you the girl who’s moved into Christopher’s house?’

      ‘I think that was the name of the boy who lived there before us. Did you know him?’

      ‘Yes. He was my best friend.’

      Lisa wasn’t sure how to reply. She almost felt like apologising, but of course that would be ridiculous. It was hardly her fault. She’d never have moved here in the first place, if she’d had her way. She felt sorry for Elliot, though. The pickle he was in put her wet jeans and trainer into context. She decided to help him.

      ‘Okay, Elliot. What can I do to get you out of here?’

      A few minutes later she arrived back home, panting after running all the way. She burst through the front door without saying a word and headed straight for her bedroom.

      ‘Lisa, is