It was his birthday party; it wasn’t fair. Things were just getting interesting, they’d had hot-dogs and fries with chilli-cheese and he’d added tonnes of ketchup — he was old enough to decide how much for himself now. Olivia said it was disgusting, but he’d gotten her during pin-the-tail, tripped her. It wasn’t a deep cut, he’d seen worse on television. One time he saw a dead body, but Dad said it wasn’t real and he was a cop, so he’d know. Daddy was a hero, that’s what they had said, some of them anyway.

He’d killed a little kid, it was self-defense, drugs, but there were so many angry people, they called his Daddy a murderer. They had to move away from everything William knew.

He was finally making new friends.

Now everyone was leaving early because Olivia wouldn’t stop crying, and Dad was taking her home in the new minivan! She was such a wuss. No Dad meant he was ‘Man of the House’ though, Sean was staying overnight and he had something cool to show him. He was excited. Today he was nine-years-old, growing up. Soon he could be a hero, just like his Dad.

“Okay boys, time to brush your teeth and get into your jammies. Sean, honey, your Mom says to remind you about your retainer.”

“Sure Missus Walton.” Sean grinned, there were gaps. His family were poor, but the tooth-fairy still gave him more money than William. That wasn’t fair either.

“Mom! I’m nine now, I can stay up past eight-o’clock.” Today was sucking.

“Don’t ‘Mom’ me young man, it’s a School night.” She paused. “Another half-hour, not a minute more! But only if you get your P.J.’s on now.”

“Deal!”

William grabbed Sean by the arm and pulled him toward the stairs, where he got the idea and followed into the bedroom, bigger than the last but still smaller than his parents. William didn’t like changing with other boys, so he made Sean stare at the wall until he covered up. Sean was not as self-conscious. He wasn’t as quick either, and they only had twenty-two minutes left when he finished.

Still enough time to show him. “You want to see something cool?” Sean didn’t respond. “My Dad’s been writing a book, he’s hiding it in the basement but I know how to open the lock.”

#

The basement was capacious, brightly lit and full of boxes. The old-looking tool chest was on the far wall, William wasted no time. He grabbed a screwdriver, jammed it into the lock — a hard left twist produced a loud click and an open lid. Inside were three things, a bread knife, a notebook and a packet of paracetamol.

“Read it!” William picked up the book and pushed it into Sean’s chest. “It’s about a murder, like, a kid, our age. The guy doing the murder is a hero, though, because the kid was bad. Drugs and stuff.”

Sean took the book, but his attention was elsewhere. “What’s the knife for?”

“Dunno. It was just in there. It’s in the book, it’s used in the murder.” William picked it up, turned the blade in the light. “Maybe it’s for pretend, like when he’s writing.” He put it down. “Go on. My Dad’s cool, he’s a cop, so he knows all about murder and bodies.”

He watched as Sean opened the cover and started. “It’s good, right?”

It took Sean a few minutes. The handwriting was sloppy.

“It.. The Kid’s called Olivia, she gets stabbed. It says.. Your Dad’s going to kill..”

The knife didn’t cut the way he’d expected, not like bread, it ripped. Sean’s surprised expression turned to panic as his circulatory system evacuated through the torn carotid in his neck, spewing warm red jets. He looked like he was screaming, but the ruined throat made almost no sound. William plunged the slick blade into the dying boy’s belly, waited for the writhing to turn to twitching, and then stop. He scattered paracetamol around the corpse, drugs.

“Sorry Sean, Olivia’s Mom said she couldn’t stay over. I didn’t have time to change the name.”

Now he was just like his Dad, he was a hero.