loomed out of the darkness, emerging from the far side of the vehicle, video camera in hand. As the van door swung open, music blared out into the night, a barrage of heavy guitar and drums.
The idiot with the parachute stopped in front of Ethan. Ethan recognized him from the year above at school: he had been in the upper sixth; Ethan was in the lower. His hair was long, blond, wild; Ethan’s was night-time black, and sprang from his head like a frozen explosion. He had given up trying to do something with it years ago. He almost felt the same way about his life, but something kept him looking for the right thing to do with it. He wanted a purpose – he just hadn’t found it yet.
‘Totally awesome, Johnny!’ yelled the van driver, pointing the video camera at the guy with the parachute standing next to Ethan. Ethan turned and found himself providing an involuntary wave for the movie. Idiot.
The parachutist Ethan now knew as Johnny tapped him on the shoulder and said, ‘Pen?’
Ethan shook his head.
Johnny ran over to the van, reached inside, came back. He grabbed Ethan’s hand and wrote on it.
‘Check this in about an hour,’ he said, indicating the scribble on Ethan’s palm. ‘You’re famous!’
Ethan stared at his hand and the MySpace address now scrawled on it.
It was a stupid question, but Ethan couldn’t help himself: ‘Don’t people usually jump out of planes rather than off buildings?’
Johnny grinned. ‘This is BASE jumping. You do skydiving first, then this – same deal, less room for error.’
‘More chance of death,’ said Ethan. ‘Why do you do it?’
Johnny leaned a smile in close. ‘Life’s too short not to,’ he said.
Then, pulling the parachute in with him, he jumped into the van next to the driver.
Doors slammed, and the road swallowed the van.
Quiet. It was all suddenly so quiet.
Ethan stood there for a moment, staring at the space where the van had been, watching flashbacks in his mind of what he’d just witnessed. The adrenaline still surged through him; he could feel it like pinpricks in his fingers. And he hadn’t even been the one doing the jump. He tried to imagine what it had felt like for Johnny.
Just when he was wondering what to do with his life, searching for a purpose, some nutball had jumped off his roof. For some reason Ethan couldn’t explain, it changed everything.
Staring at the web address on his hand, he headed home.
2
‘Ethan?’
He heard his sister, Jo, calling him as he reached his bedroom door.
He turned back up the hall and went into the kitchen. Like the rest of the flat, it was small and functional. If a surface could be used, it was. Shelves sagged under the weight of tins jostling for position. Squeezed in here and there were photos of Ethan and Jo and their mum. Dad wasn’t anywhere. The only thing attached to the wall that wasn’t a shelf or a photo was one of Jo’s paintings. Ethan didn’t understand it, or even like it that much, but he admired it. Jo had always been into her art and knew it was what she wanted to do with her life. He envied that. After school, Ethan’s future was confused. He hadn’t a clue what to do with it. And that scared him a little. He often wished he had something that interested him in the same way art did Jo. But nothing had ever really grabbed him and refused to let go.
The earlier shots of Jo showed a happy girl with flyaway hair. The later ones showed a girl dressed in black, hiding behind make-up. Ethan smiled – his sister’s approach to fashion had always been interesting. She was as much a piece of art as the stuff she painted.
Ethan looked at the pictures of his mum. She mostly looked tired but happy, though nowadays she looked just tired, he thought. And he knew whose fault that was. They all did: two kids, two jobs and an arse for a husband – it was a killer. Ethan felt the anger rise in him as a picture of his dad snagged in his mind. If there was one reason to find a purpose in life, then it was to show that bastard that nothing he could say or do would ever affect Ethan again.
Jo was by the fridge, hiding behind her long black fringe. ‘You’re home, then,’ she said. ‘Hungry?’
Ethan nodded. ‘Dad still out? Shame he comes back, if