by Alex Wheatle
“I can make sure myself,” I said. “I’ll miss baking cheesecake with Bernice though. Anyway, at the unit, at least none of the staff there hate white kids. They have to like everybody, black, white, brown, mixed race, and even desert kids.”
Louise slurped her coffee again but screwed up her face at the chill of it. She raised her hand to attract the waitress’s attention. “Can I have a chocolate sundae, please, for the young lady—”
“And another Coke,” I added.
“Anything for you?” the waitress asked.
“Another black coffee, thank you.”
chapter seventeen
A Heavy Piece of Guilt
I didn’t mind the corked traffic on the ride home. I even allowed Louise to listen to her old-school pop radio station.
“I’ll speak with Colleen and Tony when I drop you off,” she said. “I don’t want to do it over a phone call.”
“I get that,” I said. “Best to be one-on-one with these kinda issues.”
“Do you want to be there when I tell them?”
“No, no. Wait till I’m in my room before you start spilling everything.”
Louise turned to look at me. “Are you sure, Naomi? You’ve accused me of doing things behind your back in the past.”
“You’re good to go on this one,” I said. “I’ll sign a form for you if ya want.” My brain was sweating so I wound down the window.
“I don’t even know if a room is available at the unit,” Louise said. “I’ll call them tonight but don’t expect them to have it ready by tomorrow.”
“I can wait,” I said. “Just put the kid on the top of the slide on this one.”
I peered through the windshield. Cars were bumper to bumper as far as I could see. I wanted to ask Louise if I could stay over at her place but I thought better of it. No way would she go for it. Her boyfriend wouldn’t love it.
“Naomi, are you sure you want to move from the Goldings’ home before I find you a permanent foster family? We’re still looking at potential families.”
I wasn’t sure. Kim’s voice was in my head. If I lose her as a sistren, who else have I got?
“Yeah, I’m good to go,” I replied. “I’ll have to check out from the Goldings’ sooner or later anyway. That’s the reality of my situation.”
Louise nodded. “Yes, it is.”
“I’ll be sorry to leave. They’re good peeps.”
“Yes, they are.”
* * *
Not too many words were swapped till Louise pulled up outside the Goldings’ house. It took me a long second to climb outta my seat. Nerves rat-a-tatted inside my belly.
“Don’t worry,” Louise said, “Colleen and Tony will understand.”
“They might think I’m ungrateful. But I’m thankful—to the max. They actually care more than a dose about me and they found that dance club for me.”
Louise angled her face and half-smiled. We rolled slowly to the front door. It only seemed like yesterday when Louise first brought me here. I didn’t wanna get outta her car on that night either.
I pushed my key into the lock. I’ll never tie Pablo’s laces again before he skips to school. I’ll never fix the ribbons in Sharyna’s hair before she steps out in the morning. I won’t get to try out new dance moves with her with the Wii game. I’ll have to say a long goodbye to everybody. I’ll have to give the key back. They are all normal. What have I done? Monkey took a swing on the wrong branch. I can’t bounce back on it now. They’ll never take me seriously again.
As we walked in, Colleen stepped down the stairs. Her smile rippled her cheeks. I felt horrible and stared at the floor. “Hi, Louise, Naomi,” she greeted. “You ladies have a good time?”
“Yes, we did,” Louise replied. “We drove out to Biggin Spires.”
“Lovely,” Colleen said. “What did you eat?”
“Naomi had a chicken curry and rice and I had chow mein.”
“The last time I had Chinese food it ran my belly,” said Colleen. “I hope your stomachs are made of sterner stuff than mine.”
“I want to try and get rid of the softer stuff on my waistline,” joked Louise.
“So, you ladies had time to catch up about things?” asked Colleen.
Louise took in a breath. “I need to have a word with you about that. Something needs to be discussed.”
Colleen started for the kitchen. “I’ll put the kettle on,” she said. “We’ll chat in the kitchen—Sharyna’s in the front room.”
I can’t take any more. Don’t leak tears in front of ’em, Naoms. Don’t!
“I . . . I need to use the toilet,” I said.
I hotfooted upstairs, bolted the toilet door, and parked on the bog. Tears filled my eyes and covered my face. Untold snot came outta my nose too. What have I done?
There I stayed for the next fifteen minutes. My breathing Darth Vadered for a little while but I managed to eventually control it. I must’ve used half a roll of toilet paper.
When I came out, I quick-toed to my room, closed the door behind me, and found my meerkat. I held it close to my throat as I curled up on my bed. I hope Colleen and Tony don’t think I’m some kinda snitch. For some reason, I put my thumb in my gob—hadn’t done that for the longest time.
Five minutes later, someone tickled my door. I ignored it. It tapped again. “It’s me, Pablo. Open the door, Nomi.”
I jumped up and opened the door. Pablo stood there with a game console in his hands. Judging by his face, whatever game he was playing I didn’t think he was winning. “Sharyna doesn’t wanna play,” he said. “She’s got her stupid homework to do. You’re not as good as Sharyna but can I play you?”
“I dunno, Pabs,” I replied. “Maybe not today.”
Pablo dropped his head. “Why?”
“It’s been a mad day,” I said. “My head’s chocko-blocked with so many things, so I dunno if I can focus.”
“Why?” Pablo repeated.
“Cos when you get to my age there’s a lot of issues that can clog up your head and you need time to review situations.”
Pablo thought about this for a long second. “Why?” he asked one more time.
“Cos . . . cos . . . oh all right.”
How can I give the big NO to eyes like that?
As I followed Pablo to his room, I wished that a simple game could make me happy. I’m not sure how life slapped Pablo and Sharyna before they bounced into the Goldings’ house. One time I overheard Tony and Colleen talk in the lounge about refugees and boats or something. They put a fat full stop to that convo when they realized I was in the kitchen pouring myself a long glass of Coke.
I wanted to be Pablo’s age again. A time when I stood on a box to help Mum bake a cake. A time when Dad took me out to pubs on weekends and bought me cheese-and-onion crisps and Coke. All I worried about back then was if my fave act would make it to the final of The X-Factor and would their dancers be on point. That was my world.
* * *
Later that night my phone bleeped. It was a text from Nats. I didn’t want to open it but curiosity slapped my want-to-know buds.
If u r hppy at the Gldngs you shud stay there. Kim and I r going thru a bumpy patch. We need time n space to sort shit out but if u r here we won’t get that. You’ll be in and around our business. Do u get what I’m saying?
I thought about my reply for twenty minutes.
I won’t get in your way, I texted back. I won’t breeze into your business. When you two are together I won’t bounce into her room or yours. I’ll keep to myself.
Nats texted back immediately: Promise me you’ll keep out of our radar. We need our time.
I thought it was a bit strong that she wanted me to promise, but I texted my reply: It’s gonna look wrong if Kim invites me to her room and she wants me to watch TV or something with you guys but I won’t blip on your radar if I’m not asked.
Thanks, Nats responded. Good night.
I didn’t know how much time passed before I finally cra
shed out that night, but I spent most of it crying.
chapter eighteen
Casino Ashburton
It had been two weeks since I moved from the Goldings’ to the unit. The Goldings had visited me once and they brought with them two slices of Bernice’s strawberry cheesecake. I appreciated that to the max. Pablo wondered why I couldn’t go home with ’em. I can’t lie, when they left, I hot-stepped to the toilet and the tears hosepiped out—I didn’t wanna do that in front of Kim and Nats.
Louise visited me twice and I had to give her ratings cos she had quit smoking for real. One of them tree air-freshener things blessed the air in her car and she had developed a mad craving for extra-strong mints and gummy bears. Whenever I was in her ride I swiped a few of them and shared ’em out with Nats and Kim. Old habits were hard to quit. I sensed there was something off-key about her though. I couldn’t quite put my thumbnail on it or maybe my jokes weren’t up to spec.
The social-worker-mother in charge of the unit was Samantha. She and I had got off on the wrong toe cos she wouldn’t let me help out in the kitchen. She kept on blah-blah-blahing about risk assessments and health and safety issues. I launched a cuss attack at her, blitzed a plate in the dining room, and she put my TV on lockdown for a couple of days. I bruised her ears with my hollering on that one but she just sat there behind her desk with her arms folded. It gets kinda tiring screaming till your throat turns dry. I guess Samantha was used to that kinda tonsil-bashing, yelly drama—Kim lived in this unit.
So, my new life was standard living for me. I kept my promise to Nats and spent as little time as possible in Kim’s room, but Kim was forever asking me to come down for this and that. It was there where the drama of my life booted off into the Premier League.
* * *
Keri Hilson’s “Pretty Girl Rock” smoked out of Kim’s pink boombox. The breeze rushed into her bedroom from an open window. The grimy net curtains blew in and out. Sitting cross-legged on Kim’s unmade bed, Kim, Nats, and I scoped each other hard. We each held a hand of cards—Kim had tickled my door and invited me down to play. She said it was proper boring with just two players.
Kim bopped her head to the beat. Nats juggled her shoulders and I tried to focus on my cards—I didn’t wanna lose another round.
“You show first, Nats,” Kim said.
“Nah, let Naoms show first.”
“I showed first last game,” I protested. “Why don’t you show your hand?”
“I’m the banker,” said Kim. “Bankers always show last. Didn’t I say that in the rules before we started?”
“How come you’re always the banker?” I asked.
“Cos I’m always the banker. You two’s mathematics skills are not on the level.”
“But we’re not playing for funds,” complained Nats.
“But I’m shuffling and dealing,” Kim said. “And we’re playing for beats and dares.”
Monkey waiting for his bananas. “All right, all right!” I said. “For fruck’s sake! I’ll show ya what I’ve got.” I laid down my cards. I had the queen of diamonds, a six of spades, and the three of clubs.
“Nineteen,” Kim counted. “What you got, Nats? You bust?”
Dropping her cards, Nats had a jack of spades, a two of diamonds, and a six of hearts.
“Eighteen,” added up Kim as she put down her own hand. She had two kings. “Twenty! I win again.”
“Shit!” shouted Nats. “You’re always getting kings and queens.”
My relief dropped into a deep, snug pillow.
“What’s it gonna be, Nats?” chuckled Kim. “Beats or dare? And you got five losses now. It’s a mega dare or a mega beat.”
“My arm’s proper swollen from the last time.” Nats rubbed her left bicep. “Don’t wanna go through them agonies again.”
“So it’s gonna be a dare then?” I asked.
“I dunno,” said Nats. “You two punch solid. And you might get me to do something cadazy for a dare.”
“Make up your mind!” demanded Kim.
Nats thought about it. “Dare,” she whispered after a while.
“Okay, okay,” I said. “I’ve got one! I’ve got one!”
Nats closed her eyes.
“What have you got?” asked Kim. “It better be a top-of-the-chart mission for a mega dare.”
I took in a deep breath. Will Kim go for this? “For Nats to go downstairs into Samantha’s office and spit in her fish tank.”
I couldn’t lie. I was still raging at Samantha for not letting me help cook the lamb shanks we had for dinner the day before. I would’ve sexed it up with spices and herbs the way Colleen did. Kim, Nats, and the others would’ve given me top ratings.
“No, no, no!” said Nats. “That’s farting on liberties, sistren. You can’t expect me to do that. That’s messed up. And I like them fish. They’re pretty and they color up the place. Nah, I can’t do that.”
“That’s dare-o-licious!” Kim’s eyes sparkled with a mad pleasure. “Can you imagine the look on her fat face? It’s a queen of a dare! Yeah, you gotta do it, Nats. That’s the pain of the game.”
“It’s too far,” said Nats. She scoped me hard, expecting me to have her spine.
I kept silent. I was just super glad it wasn’t me who lost the last game of cards.
“I haven’t had any beef with Samantha for a while,” Nats said. “She’ll get me to scrub it out with a secondhand toothbrush. Nah, I’m not doing it. She’ll take my TV away forever and put me on lockdown till my eyelashes turn gray.”
Kim and I drew back our fists.
“This is nuts,” said Nats. “Spit in her fish tank? It’ll probably murk all the fish. They don’t deserve to die.”
“Then take the licks,” said Kim. She tightened her fist. A knuckle cracked.
Colleen would put a block of full stops to this. No way would she let me play this with Sharyna. But I had nodded a fat yes to the rules. So had Nats.
“I’m not taking another beating,” Nats decided.
“Then you have to play the dare,” insisted Kim. “So bounce downstairs, slap on Samantha’s door, look at her fat face, close your eyes, think of the grimy ends of Ashburton, and gob in her fish tank.”
“Eeeeeeww,” I reacted.
“Make it a real proper coughy-chesty one,” Kim said. Her eyes got bigger like an old-school cartoon character. “Heave it up from your belly till your throat hurts. Pollute her friggin’ fish. She cares more about them than us. If it was me, I’d flick some bogey, drop some toenail dirt, and fling a liccle bulldog shit in that mother too.”
“That’ll definitely murk the fish,” moaned Nats.
I wasn’t sure if Kim was serious but she dropped her head onto my lap with a big grin splitting her cheeks.
“You don’t really expect me to play this, do you, Kim?” Nats said. “Please tell me this is just jokes, right?”
Kim sat up. “I don’t joke when I’m playing games,” she said. “You know me, Nats.”
We swapped glances. Any second I expected Kim to bust out a laugh. But she didn’t.
“So . . . so you really want me to go into Samantha’s office and spit in the fish tank?” Nats said.
“Yep!” Kim nodded. “If I didn’t mean it, I wouldn’t have flashed a green light to it. Why don’t you have a practice spit out the window? As I said, heave it up from your belly, suck it up from every corner of your throat. Drag up all the phlegm from any toxic cold you’ve ever had.”
The bedroom door knocked twice. Nats opened it. Samantha stood in the doorway. She adjusted her glasses. Her oversized cardigan couldn’t hide her heavy ring of waistline. Her jeans screamed for mercy and we couldn’t kill our giggles.
“What’s so funny?” asked Samantha. She sniffed the air. “Have you been smoking in here again? Kim? How many times do I have to warn you?”
The ashtray sat on the edge of the bed. It was full. Samantha did her proper best to pretend she didn’t see it. Her warning was ignored. She had
to wait till our chuckles quit before she spoke again. “Natasha, your new key worker, Ms. Alvarita Moreno, is here. She’s waiting in my office.”
“Tell her to bust open her purse,” said Kim to Nats. “Don’t accept any let’s go for a cheapo coffee.”
“She’s taking me to Nando’s,” said Nats. “I’m gonna sink some barbecue wings and chips.”
“Remember the Nando’s rule!” shouted Kim. “Come back with cheesecakes for us or more licks!”
“I’ll . . . I’ll remember,” Nats responded.
“I’m waiting, Natasha,” said Samantha, standing there with her hands on her hips.
“See you later,” said Nats.
“Don’t think you’re getting off your mega dare,” said Kim. “You have to complete that mission later on tonight or tomorrow morning.”
Samantha angled her eyebrows. She always did that when she didn’t know what was going down. I chuckled and Nats half grinned.
“Close the door behind you,” said Kim.
Before Nats shut the door, she gave me a funny look. After the next game I’ll bounce up to my room and watch a horror movie on my own. Kim got up and secured the lock.
Louise had tried to set up a key worker to see me. Some mixed-race woman called Patrice. I had to yell out a fat no cos I didn’t really want one. I didn’t even tell Louise everything and I had known her for the longest time. So I couldn’t work out how she expected me to spill personal biz to this Patrice. She’ll be like a friend to you, Louise said. She can offer you more time than I can. You can discuss your problems with her. She’s a very good listener. I told Louise she could lick the envelope, slap a first-class stamp on it, and send that idea to a pumpkin farmer in North Korea.
I watched Kim shuffle the cards. She looked up every now and again to catch my eye. Laura Mvula’s “Green Garden” grooved from the boombox. Kim dealt the cards then lit a smoke. She offered me one but I declined—I wanted to stick to my deal with Louise. I picked up my two cards. I had a six of diamonds and a five of clubs. Kim pulled hard on her fagarette. She puffed smoke rings into my face.
“You sure you don’t want one?” she asked.