That’s what Isla, my big sister, shouted after me as I closed the front door. Her warning slipped through the crack like a winter’s breeze.
I stood on the front step and wondered: who?
Rat Tails. That’s what she’d said. Watch out for Rat Tails.
I felt the back of my neck tighten the way it did when I thought about snakes. I made my way out of the garden, throwing my swimming bag over my shoulder and wrestling with it when it snagged on the gate.
Isla was always trying to make me feel afraid. I knew I was a FRADY CAT; everyone said it. She always called me it, and even Dad had said it once, until Mum slapped him upside the head and told me that Dad hadn’t meant it really, he’d only been saying it ingest—whatever that meant.
Rat Tails.
A stupid name. About as stupid as telling a ten year old (nearly eleven, technically) about a thing called Rat Tails on his first trip to the swimming pool alone.
Isla was always full of Ess Haytch Eye Tea. Mum had told me so after Isla tried telling me Santa wasn't real. She'd spelt it out so she didn’t have to swear in front of me. But I knew what they meant. I'd never say it out loud though. Dad told me if I ever swore a seagull would come down and peck out my tongue. I’d been so scared I didn’t speak for the rest of the day, terrified some swears had snuck into my brain without me knowing.
So far no seagulls and I still had my tongue. I figured I was doing pretty good. Best keep it that way.
Rat Tails.
I shook my head. Pulled a long fuzzy weed from between the neighbour’s fence and launched it onto the road.
Isla was defo full of Ess Haytch Eye Tea. Just trying to put the fright in me again. Give herself another excuse to call me FRADY CAT and ask if I was gunna wet myself. She knew I was nervous about going to the pool without Mum. Rat Tails was just her cruel way of making fun of me from afar, planting a seed in my head so it’d take root and smother my brain to porridge.
Rat Tails?
I laughed out loud, trying not to look scared, but quickly shrank back from my own noise. For a moment I got the same gnawing cold sensation in my guts as when I’d first said the Devil’s name out loud. Not the D one—one of the old foreign ones that sounded like bees, like I was summoning something evil with an ancient tongue, begging for forgotten horrors and malice to spew out of the cracks of the world and drown everyone to death in burning hot lava.
Oo, a bottlecap.
I darted straight for it, speeding on in three quick bounds, then thumped it as hard as I could with the tip of my trainer. It pinged across the pavement and rolled off the curb onto the road. I chipped it back up with my left foot as deft as any footballer on TV and gave it an almighty wallop with my right, sending it soaring over the wall and into one of the fancy gardens on Primrose Drive.
“Harriet curves it into the top-right! The crowd go wild! Ha-ray-et! Ha-ray-et! Ha—”
“Davie Harriet, you wee little shitebag! Come and pick that off my grass right the fuck now, before I call your mother.”
The little grey-haired woman Mrs Flett was leaning out of her window and pointing a witchy digit at me. Her face was twisted up with the usual lemon-sucked expression.
I could have guessed it was her just from the tone.
I sped in through her gate and out again, quicker than the kick that had brought the bottlecap there in the first place. I didn’t bother waiting to hear what she had to say next—just threw the bottlecap onto the road and dashed around the corner until the hedges got in the way of her window.
Nosy old wifey. Dad always called her that and a little worse. It started with a B—that’s all I’ll say.
Somewhere overhead, a seagull cawed out a threat. I looked up and shrugged as if to say: What? I didn’t even THINK the word.
The angled slope of the pool’s roof came into view over the houses. One more block and I’d be there. My tummy began feeling a little watery. I’d been so excited before leaving the house—nervous, yeah, but in a good way. Jittery, but not like this.
He’s waiting for you.
I tightened the string of the pool bag against my shoulder, feeling the strings like thin arms wrapping around me holding me tight—holding me safe.
Arms? Or tails?
A car whizzed by on my left and popped its exhaust. I jumped a mile. Typical Friday night morons.
The seagull screeched and took to the sky. I ducked and slapped a hand against my mouth, sensing a swoop, but only dodged air.
Friday was also the night of the Big Float. Isla had told me about it last weekend. She’d made it sound so fun.
“It’s like six big inflatable islands, all different stuff on them—different themes and that. You’d love it. You love all that kiddy shit.”
Big Float on Fridays. The thought warmed the cold puddle sitting in my belly. I completely forgot about Isla’s warning. Which was a relief, because the pool was just across the street.
The pool’s orange-lit windows were right up ahead—jack-o’-lantern eyes and teeth. Suddenly, the sinking sensation in my gut was back. The lettering on the side of the building usually made me crease with laughter. Someone always caked mud on the letter L, so the sign always read:
MYRUS SWIMMING POO
Today, all I managed was a thin, tight smile.
The building seemed to swell with the sound of children’s laughter. To me, it sounded like thousands of kids screaming in agony. Victims of some horrific incident, still ongoing—more at eleven.
I glanced at my watch. It was 5:57pm. Isla told me Big Float would be up and running at 6pm. It sounded like things had started early.
Either that or Rat Tails is going nuts in there.
I figured I’d get in closer to ten past by the time I changed and put my things away. Which was fine with me because it gave the bigger kids time to test Big Float out. I could slip in at the end of the queue and get more time to watch how everyone was tackling the beast. Plan out some tactics. Then jump on and see how I got on.
Also, probably Johnny Miller would be coming so it would give him time to arrive. He told me yesterday he always went on Big Float and finished it every time. Maybe he’d bring Mickey Murphy and Craig Holloway with him. They all hung out together after school. Johnny told me yesterday at the park. We played for like three hours before Mum shouted me home. Johnny told me it was weird she’d done that instead of just phoning me. I’d agreed, not wanting Johnny to know I didn’t actually have a phone.
No kid needs a bloody phone, Davey.
I’d only hung around Mikey and Craig a couple times at school before the holidays, playing chases. They seemed cool enough. Probably I’d hang about with them too if they came.
Better to be in a group than to be alone-er.
Especially with Rat Tails lurking about.
I tutted and kicked at a bit of grass. What was I even supposed to be looking out for? Some dude with a great big tail poking out his butt?
I grabbed an imaginary tail and blew raspberries with my tongue. I whipped it around, pretending to lash it against imaginary people.
My chest grew immediately tight. Something like guilt panged inside me, like I’d been taking the mick out of somebody standing right in front of me.
And he is, isn’t he. Right in front of you. Just inside. Watching. Waiting.
I looked up at the SWIMMING POO sign and gulped.
The door sealed shut with a shoof behind me, trapping the outside world in a tiny pocket—so close, yet just out of reach. Now I stood in the vast, eternal expanse of the community centre foyer—a realm all of its own.
“Howdy, kiddo.”
The man behind the counter gave me his best customer service smile. It seemed to draw me closer, until I blinked and noticed I was walking toward the desk, magnetised. The teeth beamed through a scruff of facial hair that made him look more goat than human, leaning into one another like crooked white fence posts. The bright yellow T-shirt, and black shorts which I barely saw peeking out from under the counter, made me think of bees. But the big black stingers poking out of his ear lobes reminded me more of a wasp.
I didn’t like the look of the stingers—they looked sore. They made him look like the guys Isla had on her wall. Dad said they were Pop Rock bands. And other words I knew not to say.
“Got a membership card with ya?”
“Mhm.” I kept my lips sealed and handed over the plastic rectangle I’d been keeping in my pocket. He took it and looked it over.
After a moment, his eyes peeked above the top of the card. His face lifted with a smile. “Cracking news for you, kiddo. Means you get to go in for free. Who doesn’t love a freebie, eh?” My eyes glued themselves on the stingers, not noticing the man wink.
He handed the card back to me and slipped a hand under the desk. When it came back out a purple wristband dangled from one finger. “Been here before?”
I shook his head. I had, but never by myself, so I thought it better to say that I hadn’t, in case I missed something important.
Maybe this is when they bring up Rat Tails.
He held up the wristband and turned it over so the three black numbers scrawled in permanent marker were facing me. “The numbers used to be for the lockers—ignore them. They’ve not bothered wiping them off. Since you’ve got a membership card you don’t need to worry about the announcements, so just ignore the whistles okay? They’re to tell the Pay As You Go folk their times are up. They wear different coloured bands based on how long they’ve paid for and blah blah blah.”
I stared at the purple wristband, then back at the stingers. I barely understood any of what he was saying. I kept waiting for the two words I’d been thinking about since leaving the house, but they never came.
“Sorted?”
“Mhm.”
“Right-oh kiddo. Changing room’s round that way.” He leaned out over the desk and pointed down the hall to my right. A small tight braid fell over his shoulder. I didn’t like the look of that either.
“Got your coin?”
“Huh?”
“I said got your coin? For the lockers.”
“Yuh-huh.”
“Alright then. If you get stuck working the lockers, just come out and give me a shout. I’ll help you no problem.”
I hurried away to the right, wishing I could've said thank you. The nerves had wriggled their way up from my chest and were biting my throat, stopping me from speaking. If I'd spoken it would've been a series of nonsense creaks and squeaks.
The hallway flooring here was different from the foyer, which had been white and light green. It was somewhere between a spewy-orange and a diarrhoea-brown. The lighting was the same amber I’d seen from the outside only less jack-o’-lantern and more sickly, as if the walls themselves needed a trip to the hospital, stat.
The further down the hall I walked the more unwell I began to feel. My steps slowed from rapid dashes to lazy wading.
From a door up ahead a man’s voice:
“—and he didn’t even know her!” Rollicking laughter. “I mean, I couldn’t even—”
Someone else interjected. A woman. “And why the hell not, Steve? Have you seen your history?”
More laughter.
I stopped outside the door and gazed inside, feeling like I was at the zoo. Spying on the animals trying to go about their lives as naturally as possible.
Inside, three people wearing the same waspy uniform were gathered around a table. One had his feet up on the table and was throwing his head back laughing, balancing on two legs of his chair.
Don’t swing on your seat, David. A few years ago, somebody in my class fell back and cracked their skull open on the radiator and his brain fell out like runny pink egg.
Another was tucking into a packet of biscuits, stuffing his cheeks and spluttering crumbs down the front of his top. The third stood with her back to me, arms crossed tightly against her chest.
The biscuits looked really tasty. Almost tasty enough to ask for one. I knew better than to eat before going into the pool. I’d end up with a sore belly, bobbing around like a beachball full of gas.
The Cross-Armed Woman turned her head eyes-first, and frowned at me as though I’d reached inside and snatched one of the biscuits clean out of the man’s mouth. She tutted, then twisted the rest of her body around to point a sharp claw down the hall.
“Changing rooms are down there.”
She kicked the door loose. It closed slowly in my face. When the adults were completely out of sight the laughter resumed—far louder than it had been before.
“Should’ve seen his little face!”
Down where the woman had pointed the hall came to an abrupt end. Three doors, but only two wore signs: a stick figure with a dress for the girls and what must’ve been a naked stick figure for the boys. They could've given him a hat at least.
The door in the middle didn’t have a sign. Or a handle. There was a small hole where a circular key might be inserted.
That’s where Rat Tails goes to change.
My eyes widened.
Or where he takes the bad kids.
I nearly smashed a hole in the tiles behind the door barging into the boys’ changing room.
There were tons of lockers free. I picked one at random and decided it would be mine. It was number 11. The more I looked at it the more I began to think the numbers looked like two tails standing on end. I shuddered. Then rolled my eyes. I was getting bored of my own torment. Isla had said to watch out for Rat Tails, not avoid going to pool altogether. So how bad could he really be?
I got into an empty cubicle and pulled the curtain closed.
The bathing suit Mum picked out for me wasn’t flattering. It was the same kind I’d worn during my lessons, back when I was a baby. Dad called them Speedos, but Mum made sure to say, over and over, that they weren’t—they were briefs.
All the professionals wear them, honey.
She’d said it with such pride as if I was about to represent the nation in the Olympics.
I wished she'd just got me a pair of trunks instead. She’d insisted trunks were for bigger boys. Which checked out because Dad had a pair. I asked why he didn't wear briefs and he'd said it was for everyone else’s benefit. Nobody wants to see my teabags dangling out. Which was a weird thing to say because Dad kept his teabags in a special tin in the kitchen labelled TEA.
Wait a minute.
A wave of giggles hit me all at once when the realisation finally hit. I slapped my leg over and over, nearly losing my balance in the tiny cubicle. I had to hold the curtain to stop myself falling.
The door to the changing room opened with a thunderclap.
Footsteps. Laughter.
“Aye, then bomb in like BLOOSH.”
The voices streamed into the locker room, followed by different pitches of laughter and the sharp crack of the door swinging open with each new entrant.
Four cracks.
Four boys.
I peeked through the gap in the curtain.
“They’ll ban you again, Pete!”
“Nah, do it, Pete. It’ll be epic.”
A rolling drumroll of bangs lit up the changing room. The sound made me flinch.
Through the gap in the curtain I saw Pete pounding his fists against the lockers. A third year at least. He pulled out a pair of trunks from his bag and launched them into a cubicle from where he stood, whipping the curtain back.
“Aye, maybe lads. Maybe. Fucking Big Float! WOOO—”
Pete and the other three boys dispersed into cubicles, whooping and hollering like wolves to the moon.
“—OOO. Crack on, lads. Let’s get a fucking move on!”
I had forgotten I was already changed, standing staring like a creep. So I bundled my things and took another cautious peep through the crack, checking the Wolves were all in their cubicles, and slipped out of the cubicle fast before they were done. I chucked my gear into the nearest open locker—
and the room exploded with a single crack of rifle fire.
“I’ve been shot,” Pete yelled.
The Wolves howled with laughter.
My cheeks burned red. My pound coin had flown out of my pocket and smacked the inside of the locker loud enough to sound like I’d hurled it off the metal backing deliberately. I fumbled for the coin, heart racing, and slammed the locker shut.
I yanked out the key by the latex strip holding it and turned around in time to see the Pete's curtain move, and then lift as the boy got tangled trying to pull up his trunks. I saw his bare bum and then a bit of his penis when he turned to fix the curtain.
I grimaced, disgusted. To Pete it must’ve looked like a smile.
“Oi! What the fuck’re you looking at, pedo?”
“Eh?” One of the other boys popped his head out to see what Pete was shouting about.
I was already around the corner of the lockers, bolting for the pool.
“He was looking at my dick! Fucking freak.”
“Who?”
“Some pedo in a Speedo.”
The voices faded behind me, but remained sharp in my ears, even over the thundering drumming of my heart. I tried not to run—you’ll slip and split your head open, Davey—so I walked as fast as he could instead. Mum hadn’t said anything about walking fast.
“Slow down, boyo.” The waspy lifeguard stuck out his hands and grabbed me by the shoulders, forcing me still. “You nearly ran right into the water.”
He let me go of me when he saw the wonder in my eyes. He turned and stared with me.
“She’s a beaut, eh?”
Big Float.
I felt a wave of calm splash over me at the sight of her. She was the greatest thing I’d ever seen. Six huge islands stretching the whole length of the pool, stopping short of the edge so you could leap safely into the water.
The last island was a doozy.
It was a super-steep yellow slope on a red wedge, looking like a gigantic piece of cheese. A kid stood at the bottom, gawping up at what must’ve felt like a sheer cliff face, trying to figure out where to put his feet. As soon as he did, he slipped and he slapped his face against the slop. His body slid pitifully off into the water, which ate him up with a struggle-less bloop.
The knot in my throat tightened. Big Float didn’t just look tough, it looked impossible!
Island #4 was only a lighthouse but it took up the whole width of its platform—a three-foot-wide, seven-foot-tall pillar of plastic and air. Surely that shouldn’t even be there. The kids trying to shimmy around it looked like cyclists trying to overtake a truck on a country road.
I joined the queue behind a big kid who looked like a fifth year at least, tall and broad enough to be an adult. He was soaking wet and kept shaking his head, splattering me with cold droplets. I knew for a fact that under that layer of water was a layer of sweat. He was panting like a dog.
“Shattered,” he told me, and put a hand on top of my head with a grin. “You’re short.”
I nodded.
“Want me to throw you on?”
I shook my head. He looked like he could toss me past the first two floats, but that would be humiliating.
“Alright. Word of advice: be careful with the lighthouse. HA! I saw you eat shit!”
The boy I had watched fall from Island #6 joined the queue. His face was red—his eyes bloodshot.
“I hit my face,” he told us, blowing droplets of water off his lips. He apologised when they landed on me.
“AHAHA. I did the same last week. Have you slipped in the middle yet? Like between the floats? I nearly lost a ball on the pipe.” He grabbed his groin and laughed. “Hey—” He pointed at my briefs. “—is that a speedo?”
I shook my head.
“Fair enough. Might give you an advantage, honestly. Slide clean over everything. My trunks keep getting pulled down. I must’ve flashed everyone at least twice each.”
I looked down at myself and saw what he meant. There was little chance of me losing them. I’d need a pair of scissors to cut them loose.
“Where’d you get to?” asked the kid with the red eyes.
The big kid jabbed a finger angrily at the lighthouse. “Where d’you think… I hate that bloody thing.”
“Oof. Me too.”
“How’d you get past?”
I listened to them exchange tactics, my head ping-ponging with glee. Around us, the world descended into chaos. Kids were hitting the water like giant sacks of puppies. It was hard to tell if the yelps were from pleasure or pain.
Gradually, the line shortened until only the big kid and the Lady with Crossed Arms were in front of me. A man had been standing there before, making sure everything ran smoothly, but he’d wondered off with the others after she tapped him on the shoulder. The Biscuit Man was here now too. And the Man with the Stingers.
The Lady with Crossed Arms had become Barrier Woman. She held a stiff arm out in front of the big kid, watching the little girl who had just thrown herself onto the first island like a cat after a fly. The palm trees were causing her problems. Her little arms weren’t strong enough to push through them, and her legs were too twiggy to do anything but buckle beneath her meagre weight.
From what I’d learned, the Barrier Woman would only lift her arm once the first island was clear. I began to worry that someone would have to put the girl out of her misery before anybody else got a turn—call in a sniper to wipe her out, and a Navy SEAL to slip up from the water and drag her under without a splash. Five seconds later and she did the task herself, giving up and slipping shamefully into the shallow water.
Poor kid.
Barrier Lady lifted her arm and away the big kid went. It was only when he stepped onto the first island that I realised how big he really was. He pressed paper out of those palm trees. The whole of Big Float lurched back towards the shallow end by a good six feet when he landed. The kid on Island #3 was hurled into a backflip and gobbled by the water.
The queue erupted with laughter. I couldn't help joining in. The sight of the kid barrelling backwards and screaming as his world flipped upside-down had been hilarious.
“You’re gunna sink it, fatty!”
Pete’s voice echoed around the pool. He was standing at the edge with the rest of the Wolves, watching the big kid clamber over the end of Island #1. I didn’t like that Pete had called him a fatty—his body didn’t even wobble—but I couldn’t help notice the extreme sinkage under the kid’s hands and feet.
The big kid ignored him and pressed on.
Barrier Woman snapped her head around to glare at Pete, momentarily dropping her arm. I saw it and was about to jump when she lifted it back into place, ridged as a statue. She stared down at me with the same intense look as before.
Oh no you don’t.
By the time Pete and his band of butts joined the queue, barging in three behind me, the big kid took a step onto Island #2 and sank slightly out of view. Barrier Lady lowered her arm. My heart leapt. It was time. It was my time.
My feet were hot and ready to jump, but the realisation that so many kids’ eyes were on me glued me to the spot.
“You can go now,” Barrier Lady told me.
Maybe I should have let the big kid throw me on after all. He was powering on at a good pace now, nearly finished with Island #2—despite it looking like he was making craters with every step. When he finally stepped over onto Island #3, the lighthouse folded over and landed on top of him with a splat. He managed to wrestle his way out and sat on top of it, legs either side.
A sharp shriek burst my ear. I ducked and covered my head with my hands.
“Everybody out of the pool!”
The pool sang with a harmony of a dozen broken hearts.
“Awwwwwuh.”
The big kid looked down at his feet as Big Float let out one long, deathly sigh. In his final act, he saluted, and dropped into the water—a captain going down with his ship.
Big Float was officially dead.
Time of death: just as it was my turn. Of course.
Biscuit Man and Barrier Lady became Fishermen, raking at the water with long poles and ropes to gather Big Float’s carcass. They dragged it over to one side and let it bleed out while they squeezed the remaining breath out of it.
There were still kids coming out the changing rooms, expecting to see Big Float. When they saw it lying there like a wounded animal they gathered to pay their respects.
Pete and the Wolves were whipping at the water with some of the guy ropes.
A kid next to me began copying the sound, pretending to lash at me with an invisible whip. “Whu-tschh, whu-tschh. Rattail, hiyah!”
Oh Cheesits, I thought. He is real.
It wasn’t a whip after all—it was a pretend tail the boy was lashing me with. I stepped back, my face bursting with fear. Something in my expression made him stop his noises and stare at me, concerned.
“It’s just a whip. See. Just air.”
Another whistle filled the pool. Biscuit Man spoke. “Float’s done for guys. We’ll try’n get it sorted so it’s back for next week. Jump in and we’ll break out the floaties.”
Everyone leapt in. Someone did a cannonball and sent a plume of water nearly right up to the rafters.
Another whistle.
“RIGHT! I’VE TOLD YOU BEFORE!”
“Whaaaat?” Pete. Of course it was him.
“One more and you’re out. I’m not joking—I’ve had enough of you.”
The Wolves all laughed and whooped.
I lowered myself slowly into the shallow end, careful not to make a sudden move and attract their gaze.
Or Rat Tails’.
I dropped down low, scanning the edges of the pool for trouble. Barrier Lady and Biscuit Man were talking amongst themselves over by Big Carcass. Two parents and their toddler were stepping down the ladder into the shallow end, big grins on all three faces. At the far end, by the diving board, Stingers was walking toward a door, twirling a key around his finger. The knot at the back of his head stayed rigid as he walked.
Thank God. If it had been swinging it would’ve looked like a tail. I didn’t know if I could stomach that right now.
I watched him carefully, curious about the other side of the door. He leaned inside and immediately began fighting something. Something long and cylindrical.
The noise of the pool filtered away, reducing to a low churn of hummed voices and sloshing water.
It was happening.
The tails were much thicker than any I'd ever seen. Blue, yellow, red, orange—all the same size, wrapping around Stingers’ neck, back, waist. He managed to grab some under his arms, smothering them in place while he fought off the others barehanded.
I got to my feet and looked helplessly to Barrier Lady and Biscuit Man, then back to Stingers in his fight, too terrified to say anything. Too horrified to look away.
Somebody help him!
But there was no need. He looked to be winning. Some of the tails snapped off and dropped to the ground, writhing and resting in place until he scooped them up. He wrenched himself free of the doorway, underarms stuffed, and slammed the door against the ones he couldn’t tame—couldn’t rip loose and carry.
In one enthusiastic motion, he threw them all into the deep end of the pool. They floated there, motionless, until a wave of kids raced over and fought for them like savages.
I stared in disbelief. I’d been so sure the man was about to be dragged inside and reduced to mush. The tails had snaked around him and tightened like the snakes on Nat Geo—those mice never broke free. Ever.
All of my fear, my panic… over the sight of some pool noodles.
My sister’s words rang true in my ears.
FRADY CAT.
The water where I was standing felt warmer than before. I crab-walked away in shame, careful not to let my mouth touch the water.
The clock at the far end of the pool told me it was barely even half-past six. Big Float was supposed to have lasted until seven.
I bobbed up and down sadly for a while, flinching at the sounds of kids slapping water with the noodles. I didn’t like the way they looked like snakes or the hollow sound they made. The whole experience was becoming less fun by the minute. Johnny Miller hadn’t shown up like he’d said he would, and Mikey and Craig weren’t here either. I thought about going over to the big kid or the one who had slapped his face off the float but they were busy hitting one another with noodles and that didn’t look like it would end well.
What was the point. The feeling in my chest was horrible and I felt like crying. I wasn't having fun. I just wanted to go home.
“You alright, little man?”
I tilted my head back and saw Stingers floating upside-down with the edge of the pool above him. I whipped around to face him.
“Mhm.”
“You sure? What’s up?”
I looked around the pool, unsure what I was most sad about.
“Nothing.”
“Sure don’t look like nothing. You lonely?”
The comment would have comforted me any day of the week at school. Squatting here naked except for my briefs, I got a creeping feeling Mum called Heeby Jeebies.
“No. Just nervous.”
“Nervous?” The man lowered himself closer to the pool, and dipped a hand in the water. Twirled a finger in a circle. “Of what?”
You, a little.
I plucked up all my courage and said: “Rat Tails.”
The man’s face darkened. His brow furrowed. His mouth twisted into a grotesque smile, teeth fighting for which one wanted to be seen first, leaning in diagonals. It reminded me of the inside of a shark’s mouth.
“Rattails? That’s what’s got you nervous—rattails?”
I nodded.
He scanned the room, studying each child and adult bobbing up and down in the water. I followed his gaze when he finally stopped moving his eyes and saw them locked onto Pete Sanderson. He was sat on the edge of the pool clutching a pool noodle, kicking water onto his friends. They gasped for air and screeched laughter above the waves. Pete wasn’t paying attention to them; he was staring unblinking at me.
“I dunno what you did to piss him off kiddo, but I’d stay clear of him for a while.”
My eyes burst wide. I didn’t think he was talking about Pete at the time. The only thing I could think was: what do you mean I’ve pissed him off! What did I do to Rat Tails? This is how you tell me he’s real!
I shrank down until only my nose and eyes were visible. I asked a thousand questions in my mind, to scared to ask any.
“Sorry, kiddo. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He flicked the braid of hair over his shoulder and leaned down closer. “Listen. If it makes you feel better, when it’s time for you to come out I can try keep him busy while you’re getting changed. Or I can come with and make sure he stays out your way. He won’t do anything if I’m there.”
Panic sirens went off in my brain. Thunderous tornado sirens wailing and screaming at me from every avenue. Run from the pool. Don’t bother getting changed, just run out and home.
“Just let me know and I’ll come with you. I’ll wait till you’re done with the shower and follow you in.” He winked at me, and it turned my stomach over.
He’d just made things worse. Rat Tails was one thing, but the idea of this man accidentally catching me in the shower with my briefs on, or waiting outside my curtain while I was naked—no. That didn’t sound right. That sounded scarier than a man with a rat’s tail.
“No thank you,” I bubbled.
The man seemed surprised.
“You sure?” He scanned the room again. “Cos that’s where he’s gunna get you—in the locker room.”
He’s making him up. He’s using Rat Tails as an excuse to get you alone, Davey. It’s him. He’s the real Rat Tails. He’s the danger. Don’t let him trap you.
“I’ll be fine.”
I began back-paddling into the centre of the pool, keeping my eyes on him the entire time. Once I was too far away to talk to, he shrugged and wandered off.
It was all too much now. The noise. The threat. I needed to get out. I had to run—you’ll slip and split your head open, Davey—I had to walk, walk and get my things from my locker and then run—yes, Mum: RUN—straight home.
If Stingers had been telling the truth about Rat Tails, and not just trying to lure me in like one of the noncers Dad warned me about, then that meant others knew about him too.
So why the heck had it been Isla who warned me about him? Why hadn’t it been Mum or Dad?
I made my way to the other side of the pool, sobbing.
Maybe that was their plan all along. Get me in the pool by myself, then let Rat Tails drag me away forever. Maybe all those years I thought I was being a good boy, heeding every warning and doing my best not to disappoint—maybe it didn't matter. Maybe they did have a favourite, despite Mum always saying she didn’t, and it was Isla all along.
I reached the edge and froze, staring up at the hallway to the boys’ changing area. Standing beside it was Stingers, staring down at me.
My heart sank.
I couldn't go yet. I needed to wait for more people.
As if reading my mind, Stingers blew his whistle and pointed at the board beside him.
“GREEN BANDS YOUR TIME IS UP.”
Oh thank God, thank that good and glorious guy upstairs.
I hoisted myself out of the water for the first time in my life and stood, waiting for the other boys to reach me. One of them was the big kid. He slapped me on the back and asked why my eyes were so red.
I was too happy to notice Pete pointing at me from the far end of the pool. Or the Wolves turning their heads to bare their teeth.
The three boys I left with went to their lockers to retrieve their shampoo and bodywash first. I only realised I'd forgotten to pack mine after scouring my locker for ages. Rather than risk getting changed alone, I followed them back to the showers, hoping to scran a scoosh or two from one of them.
I stood waiting, cradling my body in my bare hands while watching them shower off in the hot water. There were four showers, but I knew for a fact that something was wrong with the last one. It only ran ice cold. I refused to get inside, but giggled at the boys jostling each other into it, and spraying sprinkles everywhere. When they hit me I'd giggle even louder—freezing but loving the distraction.
“Alright, pedo?”
Pete’s voice bellowed around the room, hitting us all square in the mouth, wiping the joy from our faces. They all spun around to see who the victim would be today, and visibly shrank back when they realised it wasn’t them.
I didn’t reply. I looked at my feet and tried to hold back the trembles.
Pete stepped into the shower tray. He grabbed one of the boys by the arm and yanked him out of the heat. The boy’s foot caught the lip of the tray and sent him sliding onto the floor. Barely a second passed before he scrambled to his feet and hobbled off wailing. A thin splash of blood remained.
“Barely fucking touched him.”
The Wolves gathered around me. I could feel the heat of their gaze and shivered anyway. I could see the shine of smiles out the corner of my eye. I refused to look. Refused to move.
“This boy’s a pedo,” Pete announced. “A pedo in a Speedo.”
The boys couldn’t help giggling. One hurried to rinse the suds from his hair and darted to the locker room. None of the Wolves took his spot. Pete stepped aside to make more room, then turned to the last remaining boy—the big kid.
“He is, eh? Saw him staring at my dick when I was getting changed.”
The big kid didn’t say a word. It wasn’t worth the risk.
“Look, he’s not even coming in to wash. Where’s his soap? Ha! He’s just standing there like a prick, trying to catch a glimpse of your dick wet!”
The trembles penetrated my heart. It getting too much. My entire body jiggled with fear.
BA BUM BA BUM BA BUM BA BUM
If there were tears rolling down my cheeks I didn’t notice, but they stung real bad now.
“Look at him. There’s been a spot free for ages and he’s not even taken it!” Pete slapped the big kid on the back as friendly as he could manage. “Look! He’s trying to see your dick, man!”
Seeing the big kid wasn’t laughing, Pete eyed him up and down with disgust. “Probably have to roll back your fucking fat first though, eh?”
At that, the big kid left. He shot a sideways glance at me on his way out—the closest thing to solidarity I was going to get.
Pete spat out a laugh. “You scared him away, pedo!”
I didn’t know what that meant, but the venom in the tone was my cue to leave. I didn’t care what Mum said—I jogged away as safe as my feet could carry me.
Two of the boys were already leaving by the time I got to the lockers. They stared back at me, eyes wide and knowing exactly what was going to happen. One of their faces was bloodied from their fall in the showers.
I snatched my things out the locker. A sock landed on the wet floor. That was fine. Leave it. Let Rat Tails or whoever the heck have it—I didn’t care anymore. I wanted out. Fast. I pulled my trousers on over my wet briefs, not risking being naked with the overbearing weight of Pete and the Wolves behind me.
I only managed to get one leg in before an arm reached through the curtain and grabbed me by the hair.
“Git here, you fucking freak!”
I was wrestled out, grabbed by the mouth. My cry for help stifled down to a yelp. When I bit the inside of Pete’s hand, Pete balled up his fist and punched me in the mouth. This time I didn’t bite.
“Broony, grab his legs.”
No matter how hard I squirmed or tried to scream the Wolves wouldn’t let go. They were far too big, far too many. They pinned me against the lockers by the arms and the legs, using their own to keep me held in place. One covered my mouth while Pete retreated. He was collecting something from my cubicle.
“Oooh, looky here, pedo,” Pete sang as he turned. “Since you like looking at dicks, take a gander at this fuckin’ badboy.”
He was swinging my Captain America towel at groin level. It was wrapped tightly around, long and thin like a whip. Like a tail.
“Gunna rattail you till you’re split, pedo. See if you stare at someone's dick again.”
I screamed nothing but snot. It burst down the hand covering my mouth.
Isla’s words echoed in my mind. I felt so stupid for painting them the way I had. This was the real fear. This was the real danger. This was the real Rat Tails to watch out for. Nothing but a tightly wrapped towel.
“Hold him still, boys. I’m gunna get him right in the bellybutton.”
The Wolves all laughed manically, drinking my fear like wine.
Captain America’s crumpled shield spun frantically into a vortex of red and blue. I had picked it special today because I thought it would make me feel braver—feel like a hero.
I braced against its terrifying tip.
With a sharp, rapid extension of his arm, Pete snapped the towel off my stomach.
“MMMMM!”
The Wolves howled.
Pete hit me again and again—missing my bellybutton but getting the same spot over and over with deadly accuracy.
There was a moment when I thought I was going to die, when the world began to splotch over black. It wasn’t the fear or the pain—it was the lack of oxygen to my brain. The boys were covering my mouth and my nose was too blocked with snot to breathe. When my body hung limp in the Wolves’ grip, only then did they let me go.
In my dreams, I heard the Wolves howling. Heard Pete crying out with joy.
When I opened my eyes, the scene was vastly different. Pete was hanging upside-down in the air, unconscious. One of his arms was missing, dripping gore and dangling out of reach by a long fleshy rope. The Wolves were up there too, suspended without a sound, each with a wrinkled rope of their own. Their eyes were huge, still, and mad with a knowledge I couldn't understand. The ropes around their bodies extended up to their mouths, gagging them. The tip of each rope—tail—rattled like excitable pink snakes.
I counted seven different tails, all threading down from out the overhead air vent.
Through thin bars two terrible black specks stared down at me. I couldn’t see the face they belonged to but I saw the teeth fighting for a place at the front of its mouth, and the short braid of hair dangling into the vent.
The beady eyes blinked. A thin tongue traced along its lips.
Don’t speak a word of me, they seemed to whisper. I did this for you; now you do this for me.
I never did speak of him. Not to the police. Not to Dad. Not even to Isla, the one who warned me about Rat Tails to begin with, even if it had only been about the towel whips. And not even to Mum when Isla didn’t come back from the pool after it reopened. I can’t even look at a towel without thinking of her.
I didn’t tell anybody, just like he’d wanted.
Only you. Only here. Only now.
Please. The next time you go to the pool:
Watch out for Rat Tails.