1: Rain

"Make sure you put your waterproof coats on before you leave. Anyone who goes out in just their jumper will be in trouble, and probably catch a cold too," the severe voice of Mrs. Young said from the front of the classroom. "It's very wet so no jumping in puddles either."

George Anderson rolled his eyes. He was nine years old, way too old to go round jumping in puddles. That was for the little kids, but he was in Year Five now. He was even allowed to walk home by himself, unlike many of the kids at his primary school in London whose parents were getting soaked as they waited in the playground.

School was hardly his favourite place, so George grabbed his coat as soon as he was allowed to leave and pulled on his rucksack. He didn't fancy getting his trousers wet because his mum would yell at him, so he tucked the bottom into his uncomfortable black school shoes and set off.

"Hey, George!" a familiar voice said from behind him, a hand tapping his shoulder. George spun around and smiled at his best friend Jake.

"Listen, if you wanna come over this afternoon then my mum will probably say yes. Saves you a soaking," Jake said, scratching the back of his hand as he said it. "You can just text your mum, right?"

"Yeah, okay," George said, grinning. Not only was it the perfect excuse for an afternoon of endless PlayStation and no homework, but if it stopped raining before he got home his trousers would be dry and he wouldn't have to hang them on the radiator like his mum would demand.

The two boys filtered into the stream of kids making their way into the playground, either heading happily for parents and the shelter of their cars or dashing for the pavement, darting through traffic to get to the other side of the road.

"Can we put on Grand Theft Auto?" George asked enthusiastically. It was his favourite game but if his mum found out he played it, there'd be hell to pay.

Jake shrugged. "Maybe if my mum goes out. Otherwise we can't." He pulled his hood up further to shelter his face. "It's still a month until my birthday so I can't get busted doing anything dodgy."

"Hi mum!" Jake yelled as he unlocked the front door of the flat and kicked off his sodden shoes. "George is here."

Jake's mum was always friendly and she stayed at home to look after his little sisters, so there was always lemonade and sandwiches waiting when they got in. She put her head round the door of the kitchen as they clattered in and sat down.
"Hi George, how's your mum?" she asked, hands full of nappies.

"She's fine," George replied, smiling and doing his best to be polite.

"There's lemonade in the fridge, Jake, so you can pour two glasses. I'll make a couple of sandwiches and bring them to your room as soon as I've finished changing the babies. Get some newspaper to put in your shoes before you go upstairs." Her expression was stern, but Jake was usually well-behaved and looked after his baby sisters, so he rarely got anything more than a raised voice.

"Okay mum," Jake said, pouring lemonade and handing one to George before dashing off to stuff paper into his school shoes. This left George standing awkwardly in the kitchen until he got back and they could go upstairs.

"Do you need to phone your mum?" Jake's mum asked, pointing to the cordless phone on the counter and breaking the silence. "Saves you the cost on your mobile."

"If that's okay?" George asked, moving over to the handset and typing their landline number. If his mum was out he could dial her mobile, but he couldn't remember her number and it was a good excuse for not being hassled about his homework so he didn't want to look it up. The phone rang a few times before it was picked up and George heard his mum's voice.

"Hello?"

"Hi mum, it's me. It's pouring down so I've stopped off at Jake's, can I stay for a bit?"

"Hmm, well I suppose you can stay until it stops raining, but come back at five, okay? I'll be making your tea so don't be late," she replied severely.

"Okay mum, I'll be back by five."

It was a ten minute walk from Jake's flat to his, so he needed to leave at 4.50. It was only just gone 3.25, so the boys had well over an hour of PlayStation.

"Don't make a racket, the girls have just fallen asleep," Jake's mum warned them as they climbed the stairs in socked feet.

George's flat didn't have an upstairs so it was always a bit of a thrill to visit Jake's room and think that it wasn't right next to the kitchen. He had a pretty cool room with a large window overlooking the street outside and a TV setup that George would have given anything for.

"What game do you want to put on? Don't bother with GTA because my mum'll be up with sandwiches soon," Jake said, pulling off his wet socks and pointing to the PlayStation.

George opened the case for the latest FIFA game but the disc was missing. He glanced over at Jake.

"It's in the machine."

Jake's TV was huge, so big it had to hang on the wall, and there was a killer speaker set underneath it. The PlayStation was hooked up in HD and when they had FIFA going, it filled the room with green light from the pitch. George expertly flicked through the menus as Jake found a fresh pair of socks and lobbed the old ones into a laundry basket in the corner of his room, then sat on the bed next to George.

"Bagsy home team," Jake said, grabbing the controller and flicking through the Premiership teams until he found Chelsea.

"Chelsea gay boys," George tutted, picking up the spare controller and changing the away team to Queen's Park Rangers.

"You're a gay boy," Jake replied contemptuously as the game loaded. "QPR aren't even four stars."

"The only reason Chelsea are four stars is because they buy all the talent. They're not a real team," George sneered.

Jake shook his head. "Just wait until I kick your butt. QPR suck. Bunch of pu-"

The door handle suddenly moved, cutting Jake off mid-sentence, and his mum stepped in with a couple of cheese sandwiches which the boys took gratefully.

"Better not have been some bad language I interrupted," she said, giving Jake the evil eye. "I'm going out to the shops, so let the answerphone run if anyone calls and don't answer the door," she added, smiling again. "Behave, please, I'll only be ten minutes."

With Jake's mum out of the house, George wanted to put on GTA, but Jake didn't seem too bothered and they carried on with FIFA. George was the worse player; he didn't have a games console at home so he couldn't practice, and Jake played it all the time. Picking the weaker team hadn't helped either, but he wouldn't been seen dead playing as Manchester United or some other big-league team.

"Aha, suck on that!" Jake taunted as he neatly put away a shot from the edge of the box. "You've got no chance."

George didn't want to admit it and just sighed. "That was a blatant free kick for me, the ref just didn't give it. Chelsea is a team of cheats."

"Chelsea don't cheat, retard," Jake said, but the slanging died down as the game resumed.

After they paused at half time to eat their sandwiches, Jake won the first game 3-0, scoring two penalties that George gave away when he was desperately trying to block the superior Chelsea strikers. He didn't fancy getting beaten again, but Jake was full of it.

"I bet I could beat that bunch of pansies with the worst team in the game," he bragged, downing half of his lemonade.

"Bring it on, dogbreath," George replied, reselecting QPR while Jake searched the lower leagues and eventually picked Cheltenham Town, who had less than two stars for their ranking.

This time, George stood a chance. He didn't have the hang of the perfectly weighted shots from the edge of the box that Jake had perfected, but he had a couple of close chances from goalmouth scrambles, and his goalkeeper was keeping out everything that Jake's feeble strikers could manage.

It didn't take long for Jake's experience with the controls to win out. He managed a cutting pass and had a clean run on goal with one of his midfielders. Helpless, George rushed out with his goalie but Jake chipped it perfectly, sending the ball sailing into the back of the net.

"Oh yeah! I told you that QPR suck!" Jake said triumphantly, watching his players celebrate.

George was upset, but he was determined to strike back. From the kick-off he cut between the slow-moving defence, closing down on goal. A quick pass got him inside the penalty area and he let loose a shot, hands clenched on the controller. As the ball left the boot of his striker, Jake paused the game.

"What the hell?" George demanded, throwing his controller onto the bed. "I was about to score, you idiot!"

"There's someone at the door," Jake said, furrowing his brow. "It can't be my mum because she'd have a key."

George realised that in his determination to get one back, he hadn't heard the banging on the door. "So what? Your mum said not to answer the door."

"If they keep banging they'll wake up my sisters," Jake said, dropping his controller and heading out of the door. "I'll be back in a sec."

It was the perfect opportunity to unpause the game and score a couple of cheeky goals while Jake was away, but if he cheated he'd never hear the end of it, so George just sighed and looked out of the window. The clock on Jake's nightstand said 4.10, so he worked out that he had 40 more minutes before he needed to go home. There were voices downstairs and curiosity got the better of him, so he crept onto the stairs, not wanting to look like he was eavesdropping.

"My mum will be back any minute," Jake said, sounding like he was a little bit scared.

"Who's in the house then?" A deeper voice asked in a friendly tone. "You won't get into any trouble, don't worry."

"It's just me, my friend George who's upstairs, and my baby sisters," Jake replied.

George decided that he could probably go down and show his face, and it was better than moping around in Jake's room.

There were two police officers in uniform downstairs, both holding their hats in their arms as they waited in the kitchen. They looked up as George stepped inside, carrying the empty lemonade glasses.

"You must be George?" the woman police officer asked with a kindly smile. She had grey hair and looked like she might be someone's granny, so George just nodded back and put the glasses beside the sink.

"George Anderson?" the man asked, unfolding his beefy arms.

"Yes," George replied. His mum had told him to trust the police and these two seemed to be nice.

"Can we have a word with you in private?" the policeman asked, looking at Jake. "We could use your bedroom if that's okay?"

"Um, I suppose," Jake said, shrugging. "I'll wait for my mum to get in."

The police officers smiled and let George lead the way to Jake's room, where the FIFA game was still paused. The man stood in the doorway while the woman sat next to him on the bed, looking weird in her bulky uniform all crumpled up from sitting on the soft duvet.

"George, we're here because your mum has been in an accident. She was hit by a van just outside your flat. We're going to take you to the hospital," she said gently, a hand on his shoulder.

"What happened?" George asked dumbly, waiting for the news to sink in. "We don't have a car or anything."

"She must have been crossing the road or something. We don't have details yet," the woman replied, looking sad. "We'll find out soon enough."

George went with the police when they led him to their car, still too shocked to think. His heart was beating fast and he felt nervous, and the grave expression on Jake's mum's face didn't help settle him down as he pulled his wet shoes on.