Run, Rebel

by Manjeet Mann

  I am so proud,

  I allow the tears to flow,

  bursting with pride.

  Tiya bounces up and down.

  Wow-weeee

  wow-weeee,

  Mummy!

  Did you like Mummy’s essay, Tiya?

  Wow-weeee, Mummy!

  Ruby takes Tiya,

  gives her an almighty hug,

  lifts her up above her head

  making aeroplane noises.

  Tiya barely controlling herself

  for laughing.

  You’re going to fly, Ruby.

  I feel it.

  You’re going to fly!

  I’ve been going to counselling

  every week

  for two months.

  I’m showing progress.

  My counsellor thinks I’m ready

  for the next step.

  A step

  that will take me out

  of my comfort zone.

  Sometimes

  I hang around our old estate

  just to catch

  a glimpse of him.

  Just to see

  if he’s still alive.

  Mum’s taken

  over a sewing class

  at the community centre.

  Me, Tara and David take part.

  We’re making tote bags.

  I’ve never seen her interact like this.

  She’s taking charge,

  making jokes,

  showing everyone what to do.

  She’s so

  confident.

  She’s shining in a way

  I’d never imagined she could.

  The counsellor thought

  it would be a good idea

  to have Gemma in the session.

  I smile.

  Gemma won’t look at me.

  Who can blame her?

  The counsellor asks us questions

  and we try and have a conversation,

  all three of us.

  At one point

  Gemma and I

  laugh

  at the

  same thing.

  Ruby has been accepted

  to a local university.

  But it’s not her first choice.

  Jas has convinced her

  to follow her dream,

  to set her sights even higher.

  In autumn she’ll apply to Oxford.

  Oxford

  is

  her

  first

  choice.

  Mum and I

  are rehoused.

  It’s a small one-bed flat.

  Mum makes a small part

  of the lounge

  into a study area.

  A place where we

  can read books.

  For the first time

  since leaving home

  I feel

  at home.

  PEACE

  PEACE.

  The war

  is over.

  A state of normality presides.

  However,

  inner peace

  will take time.

  I am calmer.

  Words flow more easily

  now I’m no longer

  sitting in a suit of armour.

  My hand can’t keep up

  with the words spilling out

  on to the page.

  And studying for

  exams seems easier

  than before.

  There is

  space in my head

  to retain information.

  I sit with my English assignment.

  My second chance to impress Mr Walker.

  I inhale

  and

  exhale.

  It’s time

  I speak

  my truth.

  Mum has fallen asleep

  with one of Tiya’s favourite

  picture books in her lap.

  I close it carefully so as not to wake her.

  I climb into bed

  next to her.

  I want to feel her warmth.

  We did it, Mum.

  We did it like

  the women in the books,

  I whisper.

  We rebelled

  and we won.

  I’m learning more

  and more about Mum.

  Every day she gets

  more life in her,

  telling stories,

  cooking,

  sewing.

  Stories of childhood.

  Family back in India.

  And she sings!

  I never knew she could.

  Sometimes

  I feel the urge

  to relive old feelings,

  not because I want to

  but because they are familiar.

  I’m revising for exams.

  Tonight it’s history.

  Revolutions

  and their rebels.

  It’s getting late

  and Mum is still not home.

  It’s 7 p.m.

  We would normally start

  cooking at this time.

  My heart starts racing.

  I think of worst-case scenarios.

  He’s found her.

  He’s done something.

  He said he would.

  My eyes start to fill with tears.

  I pick up the receiver,

  start to dial

  999,

  when I see it.

  A note.

  I give her the biggest hug

  before she’s even through the door.

  Your note was brilliant! I’m so proud.

  Did I write it all correctly?

  Yes,

  I lie.

  Without thinking

  I start to read the receipt out loud.

  You don’t need to do that any more,

  she says.

  I know what I bought.

  There has never

  been music,

  dancing,

  laughing,

  singing,

  or colours

  in my home

  before.

  I savour

  every moment.

  So this boy …

  Mum asks.

  She continues clearing

  the table of plastic cups and plates.

  You like this boy?

  I shrug my shoulders.

  I feel nervous and sick.

  Familiar fears,

  never too far from the surface,

  come simmering up.

  My body feels weak.

  I nearly drop a plate of

  leftover party food

  on the way to the kitchen.

  You can tell me.

  I don’t know if I can.

  I don’t know if this is still

  the one area of our lives

  where we will always hold

  different views.

  But I’m tired of keeping things hidden.

  I want to live a full life.

  I take a deep breath.

  Yes,

  I say nervously.

  OK. That’s OK,

  she says.

  Just be careful. He looks like a heartbreaker.

  She pauses.

  But then it’s better to love and feel heartbreak,

  no matter how many times, than never having loved at all.

  I’ve made it to the ESAC

  county championships.

  I’m in London

  a day early

  as a treat.

  The school team

  has come along to

  support me.

  David and I can’t believe

  how crazy London is.

  We’re walking slow,

  wanting to take it all in,

  and everyone is tutting around us,

  rolling their eyes.

  I keep getting shoved on the escalator

  for not standing on the right side.

  At lunc
h we go into Mackie D’s

  because it’s all we can afford.

  After lunch we go down to

  Carnaby Street in Soho.

  It’s the coolest place in London

  after Oxford Street.

  The shops are more expensive

  and there are loads of people

  sitting outside cafes drinking frothy coffee

  and whipped-cream hot chocolates

  and bubble teas.

  I spot a shop with a name I recognize.

  Sarah knows it too,

  but not like I do.

  Oh my God. I LOVE their jeans.

  They fit so well. Can we go in, Miss?

  My heart races as we go in.

  I look at the price tag.

  One hundred and twenty pounds.

  My mum used to get

  two pounds an hour

  to dye them

  and Sarah pays

  one hundred and twenty pounds

  to wear them.

  David and I

  split from the group to

  take a moment alone

  in Hyde Park.

  I’m so proud of you.

  Thanks.

  Not just for making it to the county championships,

  for everything. You’ve been through so much.

  I think you’re amazing.

  He takes my hands

  in his hands.

  My heart, racing.

  My breath, held,

  as his lips

  touch mine

  for the first time.

  Right there

  on a bridge

  over a lake

  in Hyde Park.

  I’m

  in

  heaven.

  I feel like I can breathe.

  Like my lungs

  have filled

  themselves up

  to the brim

  for the first time.

  I realize

  I’ve only ever

  been half breathing.

  On your marks …

  Feet on the blocks.

  Get set …

  Focus.

  Wait for the sound of the gun …

  … and I’m off!

  Accelerating,

  arms pumping,

  legs driving

  me forward

  into

  my future and

  towards

  my dreams.

  I write now

  what I could not

  before.

  My truth.

  Here

  it

  is.

  All the secrets

  I’ve been holding inside

  about dreams so big

  and love so grand,

  a life half lived.

  About Mum,

  about Ruby,

  about Dad,

  about me.

  How we fought,

  how we survived,

  how we rebelled.

  I write it all.

  Here.

  I am no longer

  bound by secrets,

  silenced by fear.

  This is the truth.

  I own it and

  it is mine to tell.

  I am reborn.

  I am strength.

  I am power.

  I am warmth.

  I am soft.

  I am rough.

  I am diamond.

  I am tiger.

  I am courage.

  I am healed.

  I am leader.

  I am revolution.

  I am rebellion.

  I am Amber Rai

  and

  I am REBEL.

  Like all writers, I draw upon many things including my own experience. Essentially, I wanted to write for my teenage self – the teenager who felt quite isolated and voiceless, and therefore, the adult me is passionate about empowering women and girls any way I can.

  This passion inspired the creation of Run The World, an organization that works with women and girls from marginalized backgrounds and helps to empower them through sport and storytelling. It’s been really inspiring seeing the women I work with grow stronger and more confident with each running session, and hearing their brave, life-changing stories. It gave me the confidence to dig deep and share an untold story, which I believe will resonate with many people, through Amber’s voice in Run, Rebel.

  I find writing in verse quite liberating. It was easier to deal with big emotional subjects by getting straight to the heart of the issue and saying more with very little. I also like playing with structure, and I like how verse novels can bring words to life on a page with the use of white space and by playing with key phrases. It forces you to want to speak the words out loud, which I think appeals to the actress in me.

  That’s a difficult one to answer but if I have to pick one character, I think it’s Mum. The courage it takes her to follow through every act of rebellion cannot be underestimated. She’s a real warrior. For me, she goes on the biggest journey in the book. I also have a soft spot for Tara. She’s really wise and she’s a great friend. We’d all be really lucky to have a Tara in our lives.

  Running has always been a big part of my life. It encourages positive mental health by reducing stress and anxiety. That’s the main reason I made Amber a runner. I knew her character needed an outlet for her sadness and anger (which is usually sadness in disguise). I really believe that all sports, not just running, have the capacity to empower and impact change, and I wanted to explore that impact through Amber’s character.

  Weirdly the happy, lighter bits. The darker more emotional topics came quite easily. (I’m not too sure what that says about me.) The earlier drafts of the novel were quite dark, and I was told I needed to balance that out. What’s perhaps more troubling is that I didn’t see those early drafts as particularly dark. Looking back, I can see that they were, so it’s been a real learning curve … and not just for my writing!

  Hope and resilience. No matter how impossible something may seem, there is always a way out.

  Definitely: I am Thunder by Muhammad Khan, The Hate You Give by Angie Thomas, The Poet X by Elizabeth Acevedo. They all feature strong, inspiring and complex heroines, and are therefore particular favourites of mine.

  If you have an idea, start it, be consistent and focus. Turn up and write. It doesn’t have to be every day – you might not have that luxury – but do you have thirty minutes once a week? Writing is just about turning up when you promised yourself you would and focusing. Don’t worry about being perfect. Just get your story down on paper.

  Thank you to the women who dared to try something new, who put on a pair of trainers and walked, jogged or ran with me every week. To those women who grew in confidence with every stride. To those women who dared to challenge, make a stand and refused to accept less. To those women who encouraged each other, shared their stories and supported one another. You are the bravest and most brilliant women I know. You are the true rebels.

  Thank you to my brilliant editor Carmen McCullough. You immediately grasped what I was trying to do, and your unwavering enthusiasm and kindness throughout the entire process supported me through some difficult stretches. You really are quite wonderful, and I am so thankful Run, Rebel found its way to you.

  Thank you to Alice Sutherland-Hawes, my amazing agent. Your instant belief and championing of the book gave me hope and belief in myself. You are nothing but supportive, and I am so grateful that we found each other.

  Thank you to the fabulous Penguin WriteNow team, especially Ruth Knowles who saw something in my first few thousand words and carried the unfinished manuscript forward. I will never forget our first meeting in Birmingham. Your words of encouragement made me feel like I belonged in the world of publishing, a defining moment and turning point in my life. Thank you to Siena Parker who works tirelessly on delivering the WriteNow programme and supporting all of us mentees. To the inaugural WriteNow family: here’s to your continu
ed success. A special thank-you to Emma Smith-Barton, Nazneen Ahmed and Katie Hale. You three supported me so effortlessly in times of need, and for that I will be forever grateful.

  Where would I be without all the fabulous people who worked on Run, Rebel. A book is a collaboration, and I couldn’t be more grateful to the following collaborators who helped Run, Rebel shine in a way I could never have done alone: the wonderful Amelia Lean, copy-editor extraordinaire Shreeta Shah, you are one in a million, and Jane Tait, thank you so much for your insight. Thank you to the fabulous proofreaders Toria Chilvers, Sarah Hall and Pippa Durn – what you do is nothing short of incredible. A massive thank-you to Emily Smyth and Janene Spencer who worked tirelessly on design and fonts – I know how difficult it was, and I appreciate your care and dedication. Also, a huge thank-you to Manjit Thapp for her beautiful cover art. Michelle Nathan and Simon Armstrong, I am so thankful for your marketing and PR brilliance. I must also add Wendy Shakespeare to this list. Your advice and understanding helped alleviate my (often) panicked state, and I will always be grateful for the hand-delivered proofs! A special thank-you to the audiobook team: James Keyte, without whom it wouldn’t have happened; Roy McMillan who directed and created a wonderful audio recording and provided me with the most fun two days in the studio; and the amazing audiobook editor Daniel Murguialday. I am so grateful to you all and consider myself very lucky to have been in the care of such wonderful folk.

  I cannot begin to express my gratitude at being awarded The John C Laurence Award from the Authors’ Foundation. Finding the time and space to write is extremely challenging. This award not only allowed me the valuable time to finish the novel, but knowing there were others who believed in my work was a huge confidence boost and support in getting this book finished. I will forever be grateful.

  Thank you to my cheerleaders: Sandy Sidhu and Leeanna Elliot – almost three decades of friendship – I would be completely lost without you both. Sarah Foster, my earth angel, Sue Harrison, my inspiration, and Sadie Hurley, I would not have made it through to the end of this book without our sea-swimming and coffee mornings. You are the best friends a woman could ask for. Your consistent support means everything to me. And of course, my Joey. I write because you encouraged me to, and I continue because you won’t let me quit! Thank you. Thank you for believing in me more than I believe in myself. You lovely bunch of humans are my family.