EXT. NIGHT A man with a broken face steps onto the petrol station forecourt. He looks both ways, smiling to himself as he unwraps a packet of cigarettes.

"Will you do the apple trick please, Mr Henry?" says Zia, looking at Dad like a puppy waiting for his walk. Dad's busy trying to get rid of the subtitles he accidentally set up on the TV. Everyone's stuffed.

"My name's Joe, son, and I haven't done that for years."

"Oh, go on, Joe," says Donna, egging him on. Marc goes to the kitchen and fetches an apple.

"Go on, old man." He throws it across the room to Dad. "Do your trick."

Dad holds the apple up in his hand like it's some ancient relic. "By jungle law, I call forth the power of ten tigers. Drum roll, please!"

Everyone drums their knees. Dad closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, then crushes the apple in his fist. Bits of pulp shoot out either side and into his lap. Zia actually cheers.

"We going to the pub, then?" says Marc from the doorway.

Donna starts to get up. Dad's still brushing himself down. "You kids go. Me and your mum'll stay here."

Marc looks at Mum. Mum nods. "He's right, you don't need us cramping your style. Go and have some fun, but be careful."

"Yes, Ma'am. Come on, people."

EXT. NIGHT Boney fingers tap the ash from a cigarette as a car prowls city streets.

Marc's staring at me from across the little table.

"Cheer up then, birthday boy!"

He raises what's left of his Guinness. I do the same. Zia's playing Who Wants To Be A Millionaire? on the machine. The pub's Friday-night busy and Donna's helping behind the bar, winking over at us in between serving regulars. Tommy's outside smoking. No word from Leia.

"I'm just gonna grab some air." I rub my stomach. "I'm still stuffed."

Marc nods, his eyes on Donna the whole time.

EXT. NIGHT Cigarette smoke snakes out through the crack of a blacked out car window.

The two of us stand, backs against the outside wall. "So Marc and Donna are back on then?" says Tommy.

"Looks like it. They're talking about moving."

He takes a drag of his cigarette. "Where to?"

"Leeds."

Exhale.

"Leeds?"

"I know."

It feels like we're on stage. A director watching us from the darkness.

"Stuff's changing, eh, Lukey?"

I slide my hands into my pockets. "Guess so."

The pub door swings open and light from inside stretches towards the kerb.

"Yous two alright?" Marc steps outside. Me and Tommy nod.

"Have you phoned her yet, Lukey?"

"Nah. I haven't got her number." They both look at me.

"I deleted it."

"Why would you do that?" says Marc.

"Because. I dunno. Are we going back in?"

"Oh, for God's sake, Lukey, let's go." Marc steps towards the kerb.

"What?"

He turns back. "You obviously can't stop thinking about her, so come on, I'll drop you over there now." He steps into the quiet road. Mum's car's parked a bit further down on the other side.

"Leave it, Marc. I'll cheer up, I promise."

"No, come on. Let's do it. Life's too short, man. Tell her how you feel, whatever you did, talk it out. Make her see."

Then the engine growls.

Marc's walking backwards with his arms out. "Come on, little brother. Now or never."

That same growl. No. Please No. A million volts pulse through me, making my blood scream.

"Marc!"

I rush forward. Marc's face drops, looking confused. "What?"

And it's coming.

The black car.

Craig Miller.

No.

I'm stretching to get to him. My brother. Everything I owe him. All the love in me. Pushing my legs forward. Please, no. Marc turns. He sees the car, but the headlights are blinding him. He can't react. He's frozen. My big brother. I'm almost there.

"Marc!"

Tommy screams, "Lukey!"

Marc's face. Panic. The light in his eyes.

The black bonnet inches away. Please.

I throw myself at him. Please.

Black.

Screeching tyres.

The thud of a body.

The crunch of metal on metal.

A boy screams.

INT. EMERGENCY ROOM NIGHT YOUNG MAN sits, mouth open, ready to speak.

Hiss of sliding doors. YOUNG MAN's face drops. His mouth closes.

GIANT MAN and PETITE LADY stand in entrance.

PETITE LADY runs over. POLICEWOMAN looks up. YOUNG MAN looks down. Clock says eleven fifty.

PETITE LADY: What happened? Where is he?

YOUNG MAN doesn't look up.

POLICEWOMAN: Mrs Henry? He's in theatre now. They're operating.

PETITE LADY: God. I need to see him. I'm a nurse.

Crying. GIANT MAN holds PETITE LADY. YOUNG MAN looks up.

GIANT MAN: What happened son?

YOUNG MAN: I don't, he was, I didn't ...

GIANT MAN: Tell me what happened.

POLICEWOMAN: I've been trying to ascertain the details, sir.

GIANT MAN: Stay out of it. Son, look at me. What happened?

YOUNG MAN: I'm sorry, Dad.

PETITE LADY: How is this happening?

She tugs at her hair. GIANT MAN pulls her closer.

POLICEWOMAN: With all due respect, sir, Marc's in intensive care. As I was just explaining to Luke, here, a hit and run is a very serious crime. The sooner I can establish the details, the sooner I can get to work.

GIANT MAN and PETITE LADY stare at POLICEWOMAN. YOUNG MAN looks down.

GIANT MAN: That's not Luke. That's Marc.

I used to pretend I was asleep when we drove home at night. Part of it was so that Dad would have to carry me inside, but mostly I loved listening. People say the best stuff when they think you're sleeping.

The cold beep of machines.

Swinging doors. Latex gloves peeled off.

The sounds of humans fighting death.

I feel broken.

I am broken. My right leg in two places. My ankle. Four ribs. Eleven stitches in the side of my head. Serious abdominal bruising. And my pelvis is cracked.

The doctor told Mum I should've died. That the only reason I'm not dead is because I didn't get dragged under the car when it hit me, and the only reason that didn't happen is because of my size.

Not so little, Luke Henry.

A thick brown A4 envelope on a bedroom floor.

"Let me come back to the house."

"I don't think so, Joe."

"I want to be there, Ange. I can help."

"It'll just confuse things. He needs to rest."

"He needs to feel safe."

"Keep your voice down. Look, I think he's stirring."

Blurred edges.

Mum's sitting next to my bed, leaning forward, holding my hand, her head on her arm. Dad's asleep in the chair next to the door. I can tell by the light outside that it's early.

The thick trunk of my white cast slopes up away from me. My naked toes sticking out at the top look like skiers waiting to come down a slope.

I squeeze Mum's hand and her head is straight up.

"Lukey? What is it, love?"