Grasshoppers clicked. Birds drowsed in hedgerows. The sun beat down and a light hot breeze bent the heads of long grass towards the west.
Spike, his skinny legs pumping up and down,kept at the same pace around the field sending up puffs of pollen in his wake.

Jake, sitting on the stile overlooking Quay’s Field, could see his friend’s bare chest and ribs almost swelling out with the exertion of running.

Then, halfway around the field, Spike spotted his friend. Jake waved but Spike didn’t wave back. Reaching the stile, dirty fingers pushing dark hair away from his forehead, Spike sunk to the ground, panting.

‘Are you okay?’ Jake asked. Breathless, Spike nodded and Jake jumping down from the stile, sat beside his friend. ‘How many times did you run around the field?’

Spike shrugged. ‘Five. Maybe six times.’

Jake let out a sound of admiration and Spike, plucking out at a blade of grass, sucked at the its sweet root in contemplation.

‘She’s not worth it, Spike,’ Jake said. ‘If Amy Lou prefers that nerd, Jon Lee, let her have him.’ Silence fell. Then he added, ‘Anyway, she’s fifteen. She’s too old.’

Spike cocked his head to one side and said, ‘Jon Lee’s got into the sprint finals and Amy Lou’s in the discus finals.’

‘She’ll be all muscle when she gets to sixteen. She’ll grow a moustache and all,’ Jake pointed out.

For a long moment, Spike chewed on his blade of grass before admitting with some regret,‘Just as well ‘cause I don’t like running.’