he Wall

Charlie held out his hand and looked up. Heavy clouds were beginning to fill the sky and a drop of water splashed against his outstretched palm. He looked around at the dilapidated buildings that populated this part of town and wondered where he could find cover. He had walked through here a few times before when scouting for new canvas and was fairly sure that there was nothing but warehouses in this area; it seemed unlikely that they would have left their doors open to strangers in need of shelter from the elements. Another couple of water droplets landed on his short dark scruffy hair. He turned on the spot, glancing quickly up and down the road whilst flipping through local architecture in his head. After a few moments he found something which showed promise. He began to run.

Charlie couldn't see over the edge of the high walled bridge, but he hoped it would suit his needs. A badly rusted iron gate stood loosely chained off at one end and Charlie ran to it. Breathing heavily, he grabbed it and gave it a shove. Even though the chain was loose, the gate refused to move. Charlie's eyes jumped between the long disused hinges and the rapidly darkening sky. The rain was becoming heavier now and wet spots littered the foot path. Crouching and putting all his weight against the bars of the gate Charlie tensed his muscles and pushed hard against it, feeling the rough surface bite into his hands. With a painful squeal of metal on stone it moved back far enough to let his slightly skinny frame pass. He let go of the bars then unshouldered his rucksack and squeezed though. He found himself on a narrow ledge next to what looked like an old water channel.

In history class at school last year they had been told that the town had once contained a canal system serving the local industry. This area had been the centre of that industry, but since the canals had fallen out of favour, it had moved elsewhere. A set of brick and rubble littered steps led down to the bottom of the waterway and Charlie made his way down them as quickly as he could without tripping. He didn't know if this thing was deep enough to get a boat though, but there was enough space under the bridge for him to stand and that was all that he cared about right now.

As Charlie rubbed and shook his hands until the white gate marks faded, the rain intensified. He slouched up against a wall, not expecting to get out of here any time soon. He opened his rucksack and rooted around inside. The sound of tin cans bumping and rattling together came from the bag. After a moment he pulled out a chocolate bar and proceeded to unwrap it. Charlie bit off a large chunk and gazed idly around, taking in his surroundings more thoroughly. The canal, (or overflow channel, or whatever it was,) clearly wasn't water tight anymore. Weeds poked their way stubbornly through weathered and uneven brickwork. Further down the disused trench, part of the aging wall had collapsed in; it looked as if there had been some accident in the building above and the whole structure now seemed to sag slightly where it had lost support. Charlie turned to look out of the other side of the bridge. More weeds, more bits of discarded masonry and a shopping cart made up the decorations in that direction. He looked up at some of the buildings which lined either side of this forgotten corridor; a few windows looked out of them, some broken and some boarded up, but they were mostly just solid walls. Charlie noticed a few blocks of faded paintwork advertising the names of long departed companies. He smiled unexpectedly and then looked at the wall opposite the set of steps he‘d just come down. It was a decent size, not visible from the road, the brickwork was still in good shape and it had shelter right next to it. Best of all, there was no chance of idle pedestrian traffic so he shouldn't have any problem indulging in a little light vandalism without interruption or complaint.

Charlie took another bite of chocolate and nodded to himself as he chewed. He had found his canvas.

It had been over a week since Charlie had first found the bridge. Unfortunately he hadn't managed to get back here again until now. On his first visit he'd been caught under it longer than he had realised and by the time he got home it was after his curfew. His parents had told him off, but weren‘t really too angry. He was getting old enough to be able to look after himself. Even so, he'd thought it best to stay in for a few nights just to make sure.

Charlie pushed through the gate and glared at it when it refused to move back anymore. His jaw was clenched and he muttered to himself as he picked his way down the steps, kicking off loose stones which skittered and skipped off down the abandoned canal. He crossed the floor of the old water channel and stood, arms crossed, looking at the wall. In his mind he kept thinking about the teacher who, earlier in the day , had made some sarcastic comment about his geography assignment as he had handed it back with a failing grade on it. The rest of the class had laughed as Charlie sank into his chair, his face reddening.

He dropped his rucksack to the floor, opened it and with the familiar sound of agitated tin cans, he searched around inside. He retrieved a scrap of paper with a rough sketch on it; it looked like a devil with a pitch fork in one hand and in the other, a piece of paper with a large F written on it. He studied the scrap for a moment and then, stuffing it back into his bag, he pulled out a canister of spray paint and advanced on the wall.

Eventually Charlie stepped back. A few new flecks of paint had joined the many existing ones on his worn and faded green jacket. His fingers had smudges of black and red across them and his face bore a contented smile. The devil-teacher now covered the wall and it stood almost as high as Charlie himself. He pushed up his coat sleeve and looked down at his watch. He would have to be heading home soon and it was a good fifteen minute walk from here, but he had a little bit of time left. He bundled up the various cans of paint which now stood up against the wall, made sure their caps were all on tight and then dropped them unceremoniously back into his bag. He felt better. He always felt better after painting something which bothered him. The act of creating the picture also somehow captured the emotion, so that when he left it behind, he also left the associated anger, frustration or sadness there as well. He took a deep breath and then idly started to wonder what he would add next. Charlie's murals tended to grow and change over time. He would pick a place and go there whenever the muse took him and he felt like adding something. Over time they would become an odd form of public diary. His feelings exposed to anyone who knew where to look and how to decipher them. The main problem was the local council who inevitably received complaints about the graffiti and would respond by sending the painters in. Hopefully, the long overlooked location of this particular wall should ensure that he would be able to work on it uninterrupted for some time. He looked forward to the prospect.

It was a cool quiet Sunday and Charlie had been coming to the bridge fairly regularly over the past couple of weeks. Weekends were always best for working as there was more time to finish something before having to go home. He could get up, have breakfast, fill his pockets with a few snacks from the kitchen and spend the day painting whatever came to mind. The piece was now about three meters across and contained a wide variety of smaller images all mixed up and intertwined. Charlie stood with a spray can in one hand and looked at his latest addition contentedly. He was wondering how he could extend the design so that it would continue onto the bridge itself. The idea of creating a three dimensional picture intrigued him. He raised the can in his hand up and mimicked spraying paint over the brickwork, seeing the possible results in his head. "Cool!" came an unexpected voice from behind him. Charlie span around to see a face poking through the gate. "Did you do that man? That is so cool!"
Charlie stepped back half a pace and looked around quickly. He wondered if there were any other sets of steps near that would get him out of the canal. The boy, eyes wide under his fringe of mousy blond hair, pushed his way through the gate. His wriggling suggested that he was a little larger around the waist that Charlie, but his awkward attempt at passing through didn't seem to stop him from talking.
"You did didn't you! Do that!" he gestured to the wall. "I can see the paint cans man! That's…" The intruder paused for just a moment, apparently trying to think of the perfect word to describe what he was seeing. "… cool!" Suddenly aware of the object in his hand, Charlie quickly stuffed it in his rucksack along with a couple of others which were sat on the floor. He shouldered it, trying to work out which direction seemed most likely to offer a quick escape and cursing to himself that he hadn't figured this out earlier.
"Hey!" the new kid raised his hands. "don't freak out man! I won't tell anyone!" He finally forced his way through the gate and then, rubbing his belly, bent down and sat at the top of the steps. He let his legs dangle down into the old waterway. "So, you done anything else I might'a seen? Like your name on bridges or trains or something?"
With the boy sat down Charlie felt less like he was about to be arrested and let himself relax a little. He took a deep breath and uncurled his fingers which had reflexively bunched up into fists as his body tensed to flee.
"I don't tag." Charlie shook his head. His guest gave him a quizzical look. "Those names you see are called tags." he explained "People just put them up there to be seen, but they don't spend much time actually doing it. I like to spend more time."
"Fair enough" the boy shrugged, apparently disappointed that he hadn't found himself a local celebrity. A car passed by and the sound echoed around under the bridge. With yet another exclamation of the word "Cool!" the stranger jumped down the to canal floor and ran under the bridge to listen. "Hey! Nice hideaway you've got here!"
Charlie shrugged, completely at a loss as how to deal with the situation. "Erm… Thanks?"
"Yeah! If we got some of those bricks up there," he gestured up towards the collapsed wall "and some wood then we could made some chairs and that shopping trolley, upside down, might work as kind of a table. It's out of the sun so…" something interrupted his train of thought. He tilted his head slightly and looked up as if trying to see through the stonework. "Hey guys!" he suddenly shouted.
"Brian?" came a female voice from over the bridge wall.
"Down here!" Brian glanced over towards Charlie who was once again showing signs of discomfort. One hand clenched tightly around the shoulder strap of his bag and his eyes darting back and forth between the gate and the possible escape routes in each direction down the canal.
"Dude. Don't worry. They're totally cool."
"Bri, I can't believe you got through this gate man!" came another voice from above them.
"Shut up and get down here Paul."

It had taken several weeks for Charlie to get used to the group of kids who had laid claim to the place almost overnight. He recognised none of them so he guessed they must go to one of the other schools in the area; he didn‘t know which though.. As Brian had suggested, they'd quickly built a few seats and benches out of the various bits of rubbish and discarded masonry which littered the canal floor. They even pushed the gate open a little further so that they could get in and out easier. Paul joked that it had been just so that Brian could get through, but Brian had insisted that it was so the girls could get in and out without messing up their clothes. Once suitably refurbished, they gathered there almost every night that the weather allowed in order to chat, drink bottles of cheap cider and make-out.

Brian was, without a doubt, the talker of the group. He always seemed to be going on about something or other and he seemed to have an almost pathological need use the word ‘cool' to describe whatever he was currently talking about. He seemed harmless enough though.

Paul and Kimberly were going out and were responsible for all of the kissing which occurred under the bridge. Paul was thin and sporty looking with short brown spiky hair. So far Charlie had never seen him without a football top on and the only time he really got involved in conversation was when it hit that topic (which he tried to make happen as often as possible.) Kimberly was a chatty girl with short black curly hair and an almost limitless amount of energy. Charlie didn't know anything else about her but pictured her as a cheerleader of some description. He imagined that this was how she'd met her boyfriend.

The last two members of the group were Gayle and Simon. Gayle was fairly quiet and spent most of her time exchanged in whispered conversation with Kimberly. She had small round glasses and light blond hair which wasn't quite long enough to put back into a pony tail. Simon was mostly there for the cider and it was he who managed to acquire the drinks for the group. Charlie wasn't sure how and no body else ever brought it up, so it remained a mystery. Simon seemed pretty smart and always appeared to know what he was talking about; it just seemed to Charlie that, most of the time, he simply couldn't be bothered putting in the effort needed to share his thoughts.

These kids had obviously been friends for some time and it was usually pretty relaxed when they were about. At first Charlie had found it very difficult to work with an audience (whenever he painted they would stop talking and watch with interest,) but soon the novelty wore off and his work proved less and less of a distraction.

The art of socialising with people was lost on Charlie. He had a few friends at school, but making new ones had never been a skill he had really developed. It had taken some time before he was comfortable with the others being there, but that was just because, as his novelty wore off, they had spent less and less time watching him. In response, he had found it easier to tune them out and work. He said hello when he or they arrived and goodbye when leaving, but for the most part he just concentrated on his designs and let their conversation, laughter and the clinking of cider bottles fade into background noise. When he was done he would simply make his excuses and leave with a small wave and a quick smile. The only time he really sat together with them was when they got trapped by passing rain clouds. On these occasions he would perch on the end of one of the makeshift benches and let himself be talked into accepting a drink. In return he would share out any chocolate which was still lurking in the depths of his paint-covered rucksack. He rarely offered his opinions, but every now and again someone would ask him a question directly and he would find himself drawn in. He felt uncomfortable when people watched him, especially the girls, so he usually did his best to pass the topic off to someone else as quick as possible. One dark rainy evening Gayle had asked him about graffiti and, being a pet topic of his, he had become quite animated on it's history and variations. He had only faltered when he noticed Gayle watching him intently. He had felt his cheeks warm and his chest tighten slightly. Glad for the lack of illumination, he had tried to pass off his verbal stumble with an apologetic shrug, saying "That's probably more than you ever wanted to know huh?"

A few days later Charlie was back at the bridge. His mother had given him a hard time because his room was a mess, so as soon as he had cleaned it to her satisfaction he had come here, determined to add a scatter of jumbled CDs and toys to the edges of his piece. When he arrived he saw a couple of the other kids already there. It was always much quieter when one or more of them was away. It was as if each person brought some vital ingredient to the group dynamic and without them, they just couldn't generate the same level of energy. Brian and Simon were missing this time, which meant that Gayle was sat, chin in hands, trying to think of something to do while Kim and her boyfriend were otherwise engaged. Charlie, trying not to stare at Kim and Paul, muttered a quick greeting and, without making eye contact, wandered across the floor of the canal to the painted brickwork. He placed his bag down and started rummaging around inside. He eyed up the wall and wondered where to add his displaced bedroom mess. "Charlie?" came Gayle's voice from much closer than he had expected. He froze, eyes wide and stomach suddenly caught in this throat. He was sure that if he spoke at that moment, it would sound like nothing more than a strained squeak. He swallowed deeply and with a quick breath, turned to face her.
"Do you think I could have a go?"
Charlie was lost for a moment. He glanced quickly to Kim and Paul who were still occupied, then back to Gayle. Something in his brain had disconnected for a moment, still too wrapped up in trying to keep control of his vocal chords. His blank expression prompted Gayle to look down at Charlie's hand. Charlie followed her gaze until it hit the can of pain the was holding.
"Oh right!" Charlie quickly raised the spray can and held it out to her in such as way as to minimise the likelihood of their hands brushing together. "Sure! No problem!"
Gayle frowned, cocked her head slightly and then took it. She looked around for another bit of free wall.
"So what do I do?"
Charlie rooted around in one of his jacket pockets for a moment before extracting a glove. It was mostly white around the palm and wrist, but the fingers, especially the index finger, was covered in paint. "Put this on."
Gayle gave it a suspicious look.
"It's easier to take the glove off than to wash the paint off"
She placed the can on the floor, took the glove and gingerly put it on.
"Don't worry. I don't wear it much any more and it's been washed."
Once the glove was in place she picked the canister back up. "So, what next?"
Charlie grabbed another can from his bag and then led them both over to the opposite side of the canal. "Don't press down too hard or you'll get too much paint and it'll run." He sprayed a heavy patch of paint onto the wall and a few lines of black started to dribble down the age worn brickwork. "If you keep your hand moving then that helps avoid globs of paint as well. Try this" He sprayed a circle onto the brickwork. Gayle created an unsteady duplicate alongside.
"Breasts!" Paul exclaimed with vague point of his hand and then broke into a laugh. They both spun around in surprise. Neither of them had noticed Kim and Paul watching from their seats. Kim shook her head and sighed through a grin. "Boys! Only got one thing on their minds!"
Charlie swallowed hard and turned back, adding a mouth and two eyes to the centre of his circle.
"Go on then!" Kim prompted Gayle "I want to see your first attempts at vandalism!"
Gayle turned back and transformed her unsteady circle into an equally unsteady smiley face. Paul recovered his composure and went to hunt for unopened bottles among the collection of which had formed beside the chairs.
Gayle looked to Charlie. "What next?"
"Well, you could add some colour to it and then go over the lines again afterwards, but you should probably wait for that to dry first." Gayle looked slightly disappointed, then she thought for a moment and sprayed a little ‘G' next to her creation. The paint ran a little from the letter but she seemed satisfied.
Kim stood and left her boyfriend to his search. "So how do you know what to paint?"
"I don't know." Charlie shrugged and looked over at his sprawling creation "I just add whatever is happening." He wandered back over to it, placing the paint can down next to his bag. Kim and Gayle followed him over, Gayle placing her canister next to his and took the glove off.
"It started here," Charlie pointed at the red devil "when my Geography teacher pissed me off… and here" he pointed to the word ‘dead' in stylised orange text "is from when I saw a dead city fox by the roadside where some car had hit it. The car is over there see?"
Gayle frowned for a moment. "So this," she gestured towards the wall as a whole "is kind of like your diary." Charlie didn't answer. He looked up at it and immediately felt slightly naked. He wondered with a slight air of paranoia, just how much people could tell about him by looking at this wall.
"Hey Charlie!" Kim interrupted his train of thought "I think this is the most I've ever heard you speak!"
"I hope you're not trying to steal my girlfriend!" Paul joked, waving a hitherto undiscovered bottle.
Charlie laughed weakly.

Charlie was stood staring blankly at the wall when it started to rain. He found that he was slightly relieved by that fact. He had various things he wanted to spray up, but ever since Gayle had made the comment about this being a kind of diary, he'd found himself constantly second guessing what the others would infer from his additions. He was becoming especially wary of this as Gayle herself seemed to have become more and more of a theme in his head. The bits of paper featuring ideas for designs which he carried with him were starting to include little hearts. Once he had stylised her name during a particularly dull Math class. There was no way he could use that! The main problem with this of course was that, unlike the other things which cluttered up his brain, Charlie had no way of venting this one. He moved his bag under the shelter of the bridge and then moved around a couple of the brick and plank benches so that he could lie down.

The rain intensified and the sound of myriad water droplets slapping against the ground welled up around him. This was going to be a pretty heavy shower, but that probably meant it would wash itself out pretty quickly. The weather report hadn't mentioned anything about a lot of rain so he didn't think he'd end up stuck under here for too long. He closed his eyes and let the sound of the downpour and it's fresh smell wash over him. After a couple of minutes he thought he heard a muffled scream. He frowned and held his breath. There it was again, except this time it seemed to devolve into laughter and he could also pick up the sound of running. Charlie realised that it must be a couple of people who had been caught out in the rain. As they neared he started to pick up bits of conversation between the laughs and squeals.
"Come on!"
"Argh! I'm getting soaked!"
"Oh my hair is going to be wrecked!"
"Quick run!"
"In these shoes?"
Charlie stood up and peered out in time to see Kimberly and Gayle nipping quickly through the gate and down the steps. He continued looking at the gate for a moment, wondering where the other three were, but there weren't any other voices. It was just the two of them. They finally made it under cover and stopped, putting their hands on their knees and panting, out of breath. They gave Charlie wordless smiles and a waves.
Kim was first to get her breath back. "Just you huh?"
Charlie nodded. The girls were both pretty wet. He hadn't realised just how much rain was actually falling until now. He looked out at it, seeing the large spheres of liquid bombard the canal floor and form large puddles. Gayle was wearing a thin jacket which had soaked up a lot of water and saved her from much of the downpour. She took it off and draped it over the plank on which Charlie had previously been resting. "We went to see a film." under the jacket, her top mostly dry except for where water had run down her neck. "The guys didn't want to go coz they said it was a chick flick. After, we figured we'd see if they had come here instead."
"Yeah, then that happened!" Kim gestured out and up. She had faired worse than her friend, having just had a t-shirt on. She looked down at herself and sighed.
Charlie tentatively held open one side of his paint speckled jacket. "You, erm.. You can borrow this… if you'd like." Even with the rain, it wasn't cold and he wouldn't miss it.
"Great!"
Charlie nodded, shrugged it off and handed it over. Kim took it and then stopped for a moment, staring at him as if waiting for something. Charlie looked towards Gayle and then back again. Kim shook her head. "Could you turn around for a sec?" she finally prompted.
Charlie's eyes widened and he felt his cheeks colour. He spun quickly on the spot, hoping they wouldn't notice. He had just expected her to put it on, not remove the t-shirt. He carefully studied a crack which ran through one of the bricks in the wall and tried not to think about what was happening behind him.
"Don't hang out with girls much do you?" Kim seemed more amused than annoyed. Charlie heard the zip on the front of his jacket being done up. "OK. It's safe!"
Charlie slowly turned back. The soggy blue t-shirt now lay next to Gayle's coat. "I'm not good with girls" he muttered, clenching his hands together and avoiding eye contact. His coat, which looked slightly too large on him, looked larger still on Kim, but at least she seemed dryer now. She took a seat next to Gayle who was squeezing water out of her hair.

Charlie paced from one side of the bridge to the other looking up at the sky from both openings and trying to work out how long the rain would last; how long he'd be trapped here. He felt ill at ease normally when he was close to the girls, but now he was also the subject of conversation. The girls had dropped into the standard dating advice about being more confident and being patient because it would happen sooner or later. He had tried to shrug it off but he had the feeling Kim was studying him and it was making him nervous. To be honest, Kim wasn't quite so bad; she had a boyfriend after all, so she was less worrying, but Charlie didn't know about Gayle. She could still be single which was much more scary. Sensing that they could continue on this topic for some time, he tried to distract them "So, how was the film?" Gayle was about to answer when a voice came from the gate above them.
"Anyone down there?" Charlie recognised it as being Paul's.
"Gayle, me and Charlie!" Kim looked happy to hear her boyfriends voice.
Paul came down the stairs holding a large multicoloured umbrella. "I saw the clouds coming over and figured I'd meet you after the film but I guess I must have just missed you huh?" He saw Kim wearing Charlie's coat and raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? What's been going on here?" He didn't sound annoyed but Charlie still backed away slightly.
Kim laughed. "We were just talking and then we decided to start swapping clothes!"
"Yeah. I figured it'd be something like that." Paul grinned, dropped the umbrella just inside the bridge and came over to give Kim a kiss. "So what were you lot talking about?"
"About how Charlie should find a girlfriend." A mischievous smile crept across Kim's face and Charlie's eyes notched open a little wider, a slight air of panic starting to fill his head. Paul seemed to be on the same impish wavelength as his girlfriend and he nudged Gayle who was watching idly.
"Gayle is single. You could go out with her!" Charlie froze. He looked out into the rain, his eyes darting across to Gayle once or twice to see how she had reacted to the statement. A voice in the back of his head was telling him that this was the best opportunity he'd ever have to ask her out. He could simply go along with the joke and ask. If she said no then it would be easy to laugh off. Unfortunately the rest of his brain was approaching the situation in much the same way a rabbit deals with the approach of two very loud bright lights on a dark night.
Gayle hadn't met Charlie's gaze when he had glanced over. She seemed to be sighing and rolling her eyes, apparently some automatic reaction to Paul's jibes about her current relationship status.
Paul grinned at the discomfort he'd created. "Anyway, as good as you look in Charlie's clothes, how about we get you out of them?" He grinned again, this time at Kim.
"You should be so lucky!" She looked down at her waterlogged trousers and over at her top. She turned to Gayle. "We can go back to my place and I'll lend you something to wear."
Gayle thanked Kim and stood up, brushing her trousers off.
Paul pulled off his jacket. "Here, take this so you can give Charlie his coat back."
Charlie spun around again letting Kim swap coats. Paul laughed "Wow. You've got him well trained!"
Kim swatted Paul's shoulder as she changed. "He's a sweetie." Charlie blushed at the description and was glad his back was turned. He felt his jacket being placed over his shoulders and he slipped his arms into the sleeves. He turned and Paul was stood beside him. One hand on Charlie's back and a friendly grin on his face. He gave Charlie a wink and turned to retrieve his umbrella. He lifted it and Gayle ducked underneath next to him. Kim turned to face Charlie before heading for the other two. "Thanks for the coat. You sure you don't want to huddle up with us and get out of the rain."
"No thanks." Charlie hoped the excuse wouldn't sound too hollow. "I don't think the rain will last too long and it‘s dry under here. I'll just wait it out."
Kim nodded then turned and the three of them scampered out into the downpour and back up the steps to the street, rain bouncing noisily off the taut fabric of the umbrella held over them.
Charlie sub-consciously held his breath for a few moments after they were out of sight, then he let out a large sigh and slumped heavily onto one of the planks which sagged and creaked slightly between it's brick props.

Charlie stood on the thin footpath next to the road which crossed over the bridge. In one hand he held one of the bars of the old gate and he could feel the weathered metal beneath his fingers. He could hear voices from below him but he didn't move. He took quick shallow nervous breaths as he tried to break away from the gate clenched in his fist. Either through it or away from it. It didn't matter, either would be better than this.

He wanted to paint but he knew he wouldn't be able to even if he went down there. He had a few scraps of paper in his bag covered with ideas for sketches, but none of them could go up on the wall. It would feel like he was writing a clumsy two meter high love letter and the idea made his stomach flip. He told himself that maybe, if he were to just look at the wall, he would be able to think of something else to add, but he knew that wasn't going to happen. Last week he'd come down here and the place was empty. He had just stood and stared at the wall for almost an hour before eventually giving up and leaving again.

He could just go down and say hello but he knew he'd just feel uncomfortable. As much as they had all got to know each other over the past few months, he still didn't know if he could call any of them friends. They were kind of like the people his dad worked with. He was nice with them all because they were there and he had to work with them, but he never spent time with them once he had done his hours. Charlie shook his head. If he wasn't going to paint then there really wasn't any reason for him to be there at all. Besides, he'd been thinking about Gayle a lot recently and he was fairly sure that he'd completely freeze up if Kim started talking about girlfriends again.

He grit his teeth and tightened his grasp on the gate. He felt a knot of frustration well up inside himself. He wanted to see Gayle but at the same time the idea scared him. He wanted to ask her out but part of him hoped she'd say no because the idea of her saying yes scared him as well. He wanted to vent all of his feelings somehow but the only way he knew, painting, didn't seem to be an option anymore, so they all sloshed around inside his head. He ran countless conversations through his mind, practicing what he would say and how he would say it. All this resulted in was a catalogue of thousands of ways in which it could all end badly.

He hated himself at times like these. He felt pathetic, standing here, unable to move, his brain running on fear and paranoia fuelled by nerves and inexperience. At the same time he knew that, unless he could get past himself and actually act on his feelings, he'd never get the experience needed to feel confident with someone he liked. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It came out uneven and he closed his eyes, dropping his head. Laughter echoed off the slowly crumbling walls of the buildings bordering the canal and the muscles tensed almost painfully in his hands and up his arms. A tear rolled down Charlie's cheek and dropped to the ground by one foot. His hands were white against the dark iron that they held. He could feel more tears coming. He let go of the gate and raised his arm up to wipe his face. Warmth filled his fingers as blood returned to them and Charlie could see patterns from bars picked out in angry red across his stinging palms. No way he could go down now.

He turned and walked away.

It was cold and Charlie had a thick green woollen jumper on under his coat. He hadn't painted anything for several months. He had tried to find a new place to work but there was nothing close enough to be within easy walking distance. That hadn't stopped him from carrying his rucksack, fully stocked, wherever he went. He hadn't seen or heard from any of the other kids but that was hardly surprising considering that he didn't know where any of them lived and they didn't go to his school. He had managed to avoid thinking about the old hang-out almost completely, until yesterday when he saw a report on the local news.

Charlie felt a pang of nervousness hit him as he turned the street corner bringing the bridge into view. He walked up to and over it. Turned toward the old gate, he was expecting to have to duck through it, but it had been completely removed; all that was left were two rusted hinges and a circular groove in the stone floor where the gate had once been dragged back and forth. Charlie paused and looked down the steps which had been swept clean. A new handrail had been attached to the wall to make it easier to climb down. A sign had been screwed to the brickwork but Charlie already knew what it would say. He started down the worn stone steps and turned to look at the wall.

The canal had been cleared. All the stray bricks and planks were gone and even the weeds had been removed. The wall which he had selected so long ago was now a blanket of white which stretched uniformly down the canal sides and periodically held large signs with lots of writing and some pictures of canal boats and of the local buildings back in their heyday. Reaching the bottom of the stairs Charlie turned and looked through the bridge archway. It was the same in the other direction. There was even scaffolding around the collapsed brickwork where they were making it safe again. Charlie sighed. There was no sign that this was ever used as a social gathering point. The empty bottles and makeshift furniture had all gone. Even the shopping trolley had presumably been returned to its original home.

Charlie was used to seeing his work obliterated by a few coats of paint but it never really got any easier. He gazed up at the wall and tried to remember what it had looked like. He could kind of picture it but the details were a little hazy now. Sighing, he turned around and tried to remember everything as it had been before. Everything was gone. Even the two little faces that he and Gayle had drawn on the opposite wall. Charlie frowned. The faces were gone, but something new had been added on top of the sheet of white. He walked over with an uncomprehending expression on his face. He was looking at a small heart sprayed unsteadily in black. The paint had run slightly and a few thin black trails had worked their way down the white surface of the uneven bricks. There was a single letter on either side of the heart and Charlie stood and stared at them for several minutes without moving. He held out his hand and touched the paint which had long since dried. He ran his hand from left to right. First over the G, then across the heart and finally over the C. Looking around to make sure no one was looking, Charlie threw off his rucksack and rummaged around inside. He pulled out a red spray can and set to work filling in the heart.