The house of leaves

It was the time of the year that Alex Winter dreaded: the end of summer. It wasn't because the nights were about to get shorter or that the days were going to be colder. No. It was because he knew what his mate Paul Wilson was going to talk about.
"I reckon we should grab our tents and head for the House of Leaves at the beginning of September this year. We'll get there well before those Denback Daredevils," sneered Paul.
Alex scuffed the tip of his shoe on the pavement as he and Paul waited for the number sixty-four bus to school.
"Aren't you, like, a bit bored, like, of...um...that hut," Alex said, hesitantly glancing up at his friend who frowned back at him.
"No. I ain't lettin' them nerds get the better of us. They had it last year. It's our turn this year."
Alex sighed. He knew there was no getting out of it or arguing. Paul was unlikely to forget being outwitted by the kids from the other village and was certainly not going to let Alex get out of helping him.
When the first of September came and Alex heard Paul's familiar Morse code knock on his front door Alex felt like he had just swallowed a rock.
"Come on, Alex," Paul shouted through the letterbox. "Grab your gear and lets go."
Resignedly Alex scooped up his bag and schlepped behind Paul, who strode, dressed in his camoflage combat gear, down the main street of Strathcraig village as though he owned it. Alex sometimes wished he had Paul's forthright confidence and tenacity, but most of the time he wished that Paul would just not get so wound up by the smallest, most insignificant of things, like gang rivalry.
It was midday by the time he and Paul had cut through the thickest part of the woods, where the conifers grew so closely together it was like being surrounded by a wall of dark green fur. They climbed over a loose wire fence and scrambled down a shallow rocky cliff, the legacy of a bygone trade in sandstone, to where a circle of bronze leafy trees were growing.
Paul held Alex back from approaching the trees with an outstretched arm. "I just wanna check that they're not around," said Paul, his eyes narrowed, scanning the area.
"I can't see anything," said Alex. "I think we got here first this time."
Paul chuckled to himself. "Beatcha!" he said and clambered over the mossy rocks at the base of the cliff toward a felled, tree that looked like a giant, fleshless rib cage, swathed in a coat of bronze and golden-coloured leaves.
Alex trudged behind but was distracted when he heard a hissing sound coming from behind a crop of ferns.
"Psst!"
"What's that?" Alex whispered.
"Over here," said a voice coming from a cluster of ferns.
Alex left Paul and followed the voice.
"Oi, Alex. Where're ya goin'? The hut's over here," yelled Paul.
Bob Granger, the leader of the Denback Daredevils, pop his head up from behind the ferns. "Keep your voice down, you idiot, and get over here," Bob hissed.
"You," tutted Paul. "What are you doin' 'ere?"
"The same as you. Now get over here if you want to leave this wood with your life," Bob snapped.
Alex scrambled toward the ferns. He had no idea what Bob was talking about but whatever it was it was scary enough to prevent the Denback Daredevils from claiming first dibs on the House of Leaves.
"What's going on?" asked Alex, breathlessly.
"There's a hunter in the hut," giggled George, Bob's Deputy Daredevil. George leaned back on his elbows on a patch of spongy moss and crossed his legs, as though completely unaffected by whatever the 'hunter' was.
Paul threw his back on the ground, aiming for George but narrowly missing him. George raised his eyebrows and grinned back at him. "What hunter?" Paul said with a sneer.
Bob handed Paul his binoculars. "Take a look for yourself," Bob said.
"What is it, Paul?" asked Alex as Paul gasped.
"Big cat!" said Paul.
Alex snatched the binoculars from him and took at look for himself, hoping it wasn't true. But his wish wasn't granted. There, gnawing on a bone that Alex prayed hadn't once belonged to another kid, was a large, black, panther-like cat, with glassy black eyes, pointy white teeth and a lolloping pink tongue.
"I knew there was a big cat in these woods!" declared Paul.
"Like puddin's you did," said Bob. "You didn't know that any more than we did."
"Yeah I did. My oldest brother said he saw it one night when he came home from work. Saw its marble eyes glint in the headlights he did. It looked him square in the eye," said Paul with his hands on his hips.
"It's a pity that's not your brother its eating over there. That'd be one less Wilson in the world," quipped George.
Paul lunged for him but Alex grabbed Paul's arm and held him back. "Don't let him get to you Paul. You know he just saying to make you react like that."
George snickered and sat up. "So what are we gonna do about that thing then?"
Alex could see Paul grinding his teeth together and clenching his fists. "I know what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna catch that cat and prove to the world that Big Cats exist," he spat and marched toward the House of Leaves before Alex could stop him.
"What's that idiot doing?" hissed Bob. "That thing is gonna make a meal out of him. You don't just march up to a feral cat and evict him whilst he snacking."
Alex trembled as he watched Paul gingerly approach the felled tree. His heart was racing and his mouth was so dry his tongue felt like sandpaper.
"I hope gets him. I hope it gets him good," said George.
Alex gave George a swift punch on the shoulder before peering back into the binoculars again. But the second he did he leapt back and gasped. The black cat hissed and had swiped a paw at Paul's body.
"It got him, it got him," Alex stammered as Paul stumbled back to the cover of the ferns, clutching his shoulder.
"Are you okay?" asked Bob.
"I'm fine, I'm fine," said Paul sheepishly as he sat down on a mossy rock and examined his shoulder.
Alex could see his t-shirt was partially slashed, exposing two clean, red gashes to his skin.
"You should get that cleaned up," said Alex.
"It's okay!" Paul snapped, wincing as he pulled a sweater over his body.
"We need to get that thing out of the hut," announced Bob.
"What do you mean we?" said Paul. "That's our hut. You got it last year it's ours this year."
Bob stood up and glowered at Paul. "Look, you idiot, it pains me to say this but we have to work together if we're going evict that cat. I'd rather share the House of Leaves with you than leave it to that four-legged furball."
"We need to lure it out," said Alex, "with food."
Alex reached into his back pack and pulled out an plastic ice cream.
"What are you gonna do with that?" sneered George. "Freeze the cat or give it a tooth ache?"
Alex pulled out a roll of sandwiches and plucked the buttered ham from between the slices of bread. He held up the thin slivers. They looked like limp tongues. "We have meat!" he declared. "Except I don't really know what to do with it."
Alex knew that wasn't strictly true. He did know he just didn't want to be the one to do it or admit it.
"Oh give it here jellylegs," said Paul as he snatched the ham from Alex's hand and tromped off toward the Big Cat. "Here, kitty kitty," he said in a girlish voice and tore strips of ham off and laid them across branches and on the bed of leaves on the ground.
Alex watched the cat through the binoculars. It wasn't long before it caught the scent of fresh salty meat and padded, cautiously, out of its lair.
Paul fell back to the cover of the bushy ferns and crouched down beside Alex.
"Can you see it?" Paul asked. "What's it doing?"
"It's following the trail. It's eating the meat," said Alex.
"Come on then. Let's go," Paul said.
Alex could see the excitement light up Paul's eyes. This was the time of operation Paul craved. Like a stalking cat Paul crept out from the ferns.
Alex looked at George and Bob, wondering if they were actually going to brave taking over the House of Leaves. They both shrugged their shoulders at him and followed Paul. "It's now or never," Bob said.
With no sign of the cat, Alex gingerly stood up and darted over logs, mounds of moss, rocks and branches and dived head first into the opening of the felled tree.
Inside it smelt of wet fur and fatty meat.
"How do we keep it out?" said Paul. "It'll just head back in here when were not around."
"Orange peel," said George, matter-of-factly.
"Don't be stupid. What's orange peel gonna do, apart from make the hut smell sweet?" said Paul making faces at George.
"No. He's right," Bob said and began to ferret inside his rucksack.
Alex peered over Bob's shoulder and watched him pull out two plump, round oranges.
"Quick, get peeling," Bob said and handed one of the oranges to Alex.
Alex dug his nails into the thick flesh and peeled off big chunks of pithy peel which George scooped up and scattered around the house of leaves, finishing off scattering them outside the entrance just as the big cat padded through the trees toward them.
Under the cover of the house of leaves, Alex crouched down and watched. The weight from his body was resting so awkwardly on his legs he started to lose all feeling in his feet, but he was too terrified to move in case it drew the attention of the cat.
With its glossy head hung low, its long curved tail swishing gracefully behind it and its big round paws snapping twigs and parched leaves, the cat slinked towards the hut. It came within a few feet from Alex, Paul and the Denback Daredevils and stopped suddenly.
"It's working," whispered Bob.
The big cat sniffed the air and recoiled. It sniffed again and backed away and then turned and cantered off into the thick conifers.
Alex breathed a sigh of relief. "That was close," he gasped.
"I was never in any doubt," bragged Bob.
"I guess we call it a draw this year then," said George as he laid back on the carpet of crunchy leaves.
Alex glanced over at Paul who begrudingly nodded his head.
"Although next year is another story," Paul said.