The Monster Under the Bed || Kickthestickz

Into the Woods

Dan's laugher rings loudly through the air as he tears the paper away from the small present in his hand! "Are you kidding me, Phil?" he snorts, shaking the sticky tape from his finger. I watch it fall to the floor slowly whilst the two boys cackle about some inside joke which shows no hilarity to either me or PJ.

As their laugher subsides I reach across the bedroom floor to one of the presents marked with my name. My eyes scan the label carefully and glance down at the perfectly wrapped parcel within my fingers. Turning it slowly I pick against one of the joins in the paper before managing to make a rip. Like with every present I feel the excitement mount up in my chest as the paper gradually rips back and reveals underneath. I take in a breath before screwing my eyes shut and pulling the final paper from the end of the box. "If you don't like it, I can always send it back," I hear Pj's croaky voice mutter before I open my eyes.

Wrenching them open I peek down at the gift in my hands. "Pj! This would have cost you a whole ton of money!"

"What is it, Chris?"

"You don't even have a job do you, how did you get this much money!?"

"It wasn't that expensive, Christopher."

"What did you get him, Pj?"

"The Supernatural Boxset. Seasons 1-8. I've wanted it for so long!" I explain.

"It's no cute necklace or anything but I know you really wanted it."

"It's amazing. Thank you."

A slight blush crept its way onto Pj's cheeks, his mouth formed a benign smile and it was perfect. His outrageously curly hair flopped over his eyes, almost reaching his nose, since he had done nothing to style it and made no attempts to cut it either.

I stand up from the bedroom floor and say, "Where have you been, Liguori?You've been gone for hours! Dan and Phil went to that Christmas sing-a-long showing of Frozen in the city, so I've been all alone. On Christmas!"

"Oh, stop your whining, Christopher, and follow me." The boy rolls his eyes under his moppy, now styled, hair and throws his denim jacket on over the top of his pyjamas.

"Where are we going?"

He doesn't reply.

"Peej!"

"Put this on. Over your pyjamas." He throws his thickest woolly jumper at me and I slide the material comfortably over my head, asking hundreds of curious questions in my brain. As soon as the knitting is over my head Pj grabs my wrist and tugs me from the room.

We barrel down the aged staircase and make our way down the dim hallways lined with locker upon locker, our feet banging noisily against the dark stained wood of the floor. We run until we reach the end of the corridors and are faced with the locked doors at the back of the school. Pj whips his head round and turns his attention to down the corridor before bending onto his knees and grabbing two blue paperclips from the pocket of his jacket. His long fingers bend the metal from its shape before he sticks each straightened end into the lock on the door and begins his work. I listen to the denim from his clothing scratch gently together until the lock of the door clicks and with one hand he turns the brass knob and pushes the door slowly open.

We walk through the frozen air and nip through the long grass of the field at the back of the school. "It's just round here." I get told as we turn round the corner. There, hidden among the small puddle of trees and shrubs was a small, faded red Ford Fiesta. Spinning around, I see Pj walk towards the car and taking the keys from his jacket pocket.

"What? How did you manage to sneak your car into the school! Pj you're gunna get caught one day or another!"

"Well, that day isn't today, is it? And Link drove this crappy piece of tin in for me; I dunno how he did it though. Pull the hand break off for me?" I do as he says, taking hold of the plasticky leather and taking off the break. He inserts the keys into the ignition and slides his seatbelt across himself before turning around in his seat and gripping on to the back on my head-rest. As he reverses out onto the school field I can't help but stare. He looks superb sitting in the driver's seat of his old, little car, knuckles and fingers flexing against the wheel. Once out of reverse he drives manically across the school field, laughing as I cling onto the chair, my body wracking as he goes over hundreds of bumps in the soil.