THE VIOLET GLASSES
WILD.
A scrawny, mud-streaked dog yelped as a stone struck its paw. It bolted as fast as its trembling legs could carry it, never looking back—it knew the local boys were behind it. Cruel, sharp-eyed, dangerous. But the dog was just hungry. Just a stray.
* * * *
Tommy stared at his mum, baffled by her words. He’d be nine soon. In his life, there had never been a dad, never grandparents. He used to ask why, but the answers never made sense. Then, a year ago, a man called David appeared. He’d crouched down, shook Tommy’s hand, and said he’d be living with them now—that Tommy could call him *Dad.* At first, it felt like a dream. But then he learned they weren’t staying in their flat. They were moving in with *him.* Tommy didn’t want to go. His friends were here. His room, his toys. Mum promised they’d take everything, that he’d have a new room, new friends in time. But Tommy just scowled at David and avoided him after that.
* * * *
“Love, go play outside! Look how many lads are in the yard!”
“Mum, I don’t *know* them.”
“Tommy, honestly! I don’t know anyone here either—it’s hard for me too! But we’ll *adjust.* You just have to take the first step, yeah? Look at that playground! Brilliant, isn’t it?”
He *did* make friends quickly. The boys were older, rougher, but it was thrilling.
“Oi, look—*Wild!* Grab some stones! Go on, *go on!*”
Tommy snatched up pebbles and ran with the pack. At the far end of the estate, near the bins, a limping dog staggered into view. Patchy fur, ribs visible. It flinched at the boys’ shouts and bolted the other way. They chased, barking laughter, until the dog vanished into the lilac bushes by Tommy’s building.
“What’d it even *do* to you?” Tommy screamed. “It’s harmless! Why’re you scaring it?”
“Are you daft? It’s a *stray!* Probably got rabies or summat! All strays are mad!”
“But it didn’t even come near you! It’s just looking for food! Stop it!”
“*You’re* the mad one!”
The boys left. Tommy stood shaking, tears hot on his cheeks. As he turned toward the door, movement flickered in the bushes—two mournful eyes watching him. *What if it* is *wild?* The thought prickled. *What if it jumps?* He hurried inside, slamming the door.
Later, once Mum was in the bath, he stuffed his pockets with bread, nicked two sausages, and crept back out. “*Wild,*” he whispered.
The bushes rustled. A snout emerged. He tossed the sausages, then the bread. The dog swallowed chunks in frantic gulps, eyes darting. And just like that, a friendship began.
* * * *
“Tom, got us football tickets. You in?” David grinned.
“Busy,” Tommy muttered, lip jutting.
It was always like this. A new train set. A trip to the funfair. Cheeky burgers Mum scolded David for buying. Tommy always sulked. He didn’t *like* this bloke. He wasn’t his *dad.*
“Tom,” Mum smiled, “remember how you always wanted grandparents?”
“*And?*”
“We’ll be visiting them next week! Two whole weeks in the countryside! Fun, yeah?”
“*Not* going. *Busy.*”
“Busy with *what*?”
“*Nothing!* And they’re *his,* not mine! *You* go! I’ve got stuff here!” His chest burned. He *couldn’t* leave Wild. The dog was finally healing—his sores fading, limping less. Two weeks was too long.
“Thomas Jonathan Miller, *what* is this tone?”
“What’s all this, then?” David stood in the doorway, workbag in hand.
Tommy fled to his room, door slamming. Muffled shouts seeped through. Mum’s voice. David’s. He caught the word *dog.* He jammed his hands over his ears. None of this would’ve happened if David hadn’t *come.*
“Alright, mate?” David clapped his shoulder. “What’s this ‘busy’ business, eh?”
“*Nothing.*” Tommy shrugged him off.
“Hey. No hard feelings. Just—show me this *Wild* of yours, yeah?”
“How’d you *know*?” Tommy’s pulse thudded. David just smirked. “Don’t tell Mum. *Anyone.*”
“Why’s your pal such a secret, then?”
“The lads’ll take the *piss.* Mum’ll go spare.”
“Tell you what.” David crouched. “Let’s take your mate to the countryside, eh? Nan and Grandad’ll *adore* him. Big garden. A proper kennel. They’ll feed him proper grub. We’ll visit every weekend—bonus, yeah? Fresh air, birds singing. *Paradise.*”
“Wild gets a *home*? *Really?*”
“Swear on me nan’s biscuits. Thought you were a big lad now. Was gonna ask you fishing.”
“And Wild comes?”
“*Course.* We’re family now, innit?”
“*Cheers, Dad!*” Tommy flung his arms around David’s neck, sobbing like rain finally breaking through a storm.
