Kill All Enemies

by Melvin Burgess

  ‘Here’s another one,’ she said, about three times a day. And every time my heart would go flip!

  ‘What is it this time?’ asked Bridget.

  ‘He just wants to talk, he says.’

  ‘Oh, is that all? Well tell him to eff off,’ said Bridget and gave me a wink.

  Of course it couldn’t last.

  We were eating a Chinese and watching a Bruce Willis film on TV. I didn’t know it, but it was my last evening with her. Philip sent her two more texts during the film. Bridget told her not to bother looking, but she couldn’t stop herself.

  ‘Look at this one,’ she said. ‘He wants me to tell him where I’m staying, so he can forward my post and stuff.’

  ‘Cheeky bugger,’ said Bridget. ‘He must think you’re stupid.’

  I was busy stuffing my face with Chinese.

  ‘One thing on my side this time,’ said Mum. ‘Phil doesn’t know where I am. He’d be round here all the time if he knew.’

  ‘Camping on the doorstep,’ said Bridget.

  ‘You know what he’s like,’ said Mum. ‘He can talk his way out of anything.’

  I just nodded. I wasn’t thinking. Then … ‘Does he know I’m here?’ I said.

  ‘Well, of course he does, Rob,’ said Mum. ‘Where else would you be?’

  That was when I realized. It dawned on me, like a punch.

  ‘I can’t go back,’ I said.

  ‘Robbie …’

  ‘I can’t. You know what he’s like – you said it yourself. He can talk his way out of anything. He’ll make me tell him where you are, won’t he?’

  ‘Not if you don’t tell him,’ said Bridget.

  ‘No …’

  ‘Robbie, what’s the worst that can happen?’

  ‘What’ll I do?’

  ‘Are you scared of him, Rob?’ asked Bridget.

  ‘No!’

  I saw Bridget look at my mum. ‘Robbie, tell me,’ she said. ‘Does Philip hit you? Has he ever?’

  ‘He doesn’t hit you, does he, Rob?’ said Mum. ‘He’s always been all right with you, hasn’t he?’

  Bridget put her hand on Mum’s arm to stop her. But …

  ‘No, of course he doesn’t hit me,’ I said.

  ‘He’s a bit strict, but he won’t hit him – will he, Rob?’ said Mum.

  ‘No,’ I said. And that was that. The moment was gone.

  ‘But I can’t lie to him,’ I said. ‘You know what he’s like. It’s not fair.’

  ‘Well, don’t lie to him. Just say – just say I told you not to. Tell him. Say it was my wish, and that I said he’d respect it.’

  ‘Yeah, right,’ I said. ‘And you’re scared of him finding out and talking you round, but it’s the same for me, isn’t it? He can talk me round too, can’t he?’

  ‘I know, Rob,’ said Mum. ‘But you can try. You can try for me, can’t you?’

  ‘You can do that for your mum, can’t you?’ said Bridget.

  So it was up to me. Up to me, to protect me mam and look after Davey and stop Philip getting to her. The trouble is, see, what Mum doesn’t know is I’m a lump of shite. I let kids half my size bully me. I let bits of shit in the bog jump up and bully me, or I would if they could jump high enough. He wouldn’t even need to hit me. He didn’t even need to be in the same room. He was turning me into shit right there and then, and he wasn’t even in the same town.

  ‘Good lad,’ said Bridget.

  ‘I know you can do it, love. My big strong boy. Of course you can.’

  Does anyone know a magic spell? Because I urgently need one that can turn a lump of shit into a man.

  The very next morning she got a text from him saying they wanted me back at the Brant.

  ‘You’ve got to go, Robbie. You can’t stay here forever.’

  ‘Why not? Why can’t I?’

  ‘You know why – there’s no room.’

  ‘They don’t want me back at the Brant. He’s lying.’

  I really clung on to that one, so she rang up the Brant and guess what? They did want me back. Can you believe it? The bastards! It was just so they could have a go at me – that’s all it was. They didn’t want me. Why would they want me back after what I did?

  ‘I might as well stay here till I get let back in school. It’s just trouble at the Brant,’ I said. ‘They just want to have a go at me. I’ve had enough of a hard time lately,’ I begged.

  ‘Oh, love, it’s not trouble. They want you back.’

  ‘But, Mum …’

  ‘It’s your education, Robbie. You can’t mess around with that. And Bridget’s being really good, but we can’t impose on her forever, can we?’

  ‘Mum! Please!’

  ‘I’m sorry, love. I’ve made up my mind. You have to go back.’

  It was one of the most miserable days of my life. Mum did her best. On the way we stopped off and she got me a new T-shirt. We couldn’t get the fudge-packer one, so she just got me an ordinary Metallica one. It was really nice of her. It just wasn’t the same, that’s all.

  ‘Now you can get rid of that horrible old one,’ she told me.

  ‘No way!’ I said. I’d told her how important that T-shirt was, but she obviously hadn’t been listening to a word I’d told her. That T-shirt, it was my soul.

  ‘Robbie.’ She stepped in front of me, which she always does when she wants to make an impression. ‘Do you want me down here worrying every minute of every day because of you and a stupid old T-shirt?’

  ‘It’s not just a T-shirt …’

  ‘I know how important it is to you, but you can’t spend the rest of your life getting beat up because of it. Put it in a drawer or something. Save it for concerts or something. Wear this one at school. You have enough problems as it is. All right? Promise me, promise me now.’

  So I did. Only my mum, only for her. It shows she’s thinking of me, doesn’t it?

  I don’t know how I did the bus ride home. I never felt so depressed. School, home, the Brant, there was no let-up to it. I’d been putting up with it for long enough. I don’t know why it was so hard. You’d think it’d get easier. I suppose because I’d had a taste of being with Mum, away from it all. All the way home I had my phone in my hand and I kept thinking how easy it would be to press Mum’s number and ring her up and say … ‘Mum, I can’t do it, Mum. I just can’t do it, because, the way he beats me up, it’s just not right.’ That’s all I had to do. If I did that there’s no way on this earth she’d let me go back to him.

  But I couldn’t do it. If I said that, it’d be like saying, ‘Your boyfriend has been beating up your son all these years and you never even knew it.’ That’s like saying what a bad mother you are. You can’t do that to your own mum, now can you?

  Back home, I wanted to get up to my bedroom without being seen, but Philip called me from the front room. He was sat there with Davey playing on my Xbox. They’d taken it down and wired it up to the big TV. We were never allowed to do that when I’d been there.

  Davey said hi, but he didn’t look happy. Playing on the Xbox with your dad, that must be a nice thing. Even Philip must have felt a bit bad because he lifted up his handset and shook it at me.

  ‘Want a go?’ he said.

  ‘No thanks. I’m tired. I’m going to bed,’ I said. No one complained when I left.

  Davey came up a bit afterwards and tried to explain about the Xbox.

  ‘We just thought,’ he said, ‘you not being here …’

  ‘Keep it. I won’t be needing it again,’ I told him.

  ‘Don’t be like that, Rob. I won’t play it with him any more if you like.’

  ‘I don’t care, Davey.’

  ‘Rob …’

  ‘Just leave me alone, will you? I need you to leave me alone, Davey. OK?’

  He stood there awhile. Then he cleared off downstairs. Philip must have been pissed off w
ith him for something, because there were raised voices. It turned out that Davey wasn’t playing with him any more and, of course, Philip could guess why. See? Rob goes away and Davey gets on with his dad. Rob comes back and they fall out. A bad-luck charm. That’s all I am. Everything I do goes wrong.

  I lay there for a long time. Then I got up and took off the fudge-packer T-shirt. I folded it up carefully and put it in a carrier bag under my bed. I’d promised me mam. It was like the power was leaving me. Then I went back to lie on my bed again, and tried to go to sleep.

  Hannah

  The thing about this job is you never know what you’re going to get. I’m always being surprised. Sometimes, I’m actually amazed. Our kids have all got issues, but at least they’re characters. There’s more character in one of our classrooms than in most whole schools.

  On the other hand, you can’t like them all.

  I know it sounds unfair, but that’s the way it is. It’s the bullies I can’t cope with. I hadn’t realized with Rob when he came in at first. There was that weird thing about the T-shirt – what was that about? Heavy metal. I don’t like the music. You try and give people the benefit of the doubt, but maybe it follows that I don’t like the people either.

  He came back in that Monday morning, and everyone in the building wanted his blood. Jim had a go at him first. You could hear it all down the corridor.

  ‘I like to believe that there’s a purpose for everyone in this world, Rob, but I’m finding it very difficult to work out just what yours is. Unless it’s causing trouble for other people. Am I getting through here?’

  He can lay it on a bit thick, can Jim. Then Melanie had a go at him, then a couple of the other teachers. God knows what the kids were like – Billie was a hero to them. Well, enough was enough. I was going to leave him alone, but I was that angry about what he’d done to Billie. She’d only gone and run off again. This was a bad one. Usually she settles after throwing a wobbly. The trouble is she’d lost everything now. This was the big one – and it was all because of this idiot.

  I hoiked him into my office during break. I couldn’t help myself.

  ‘It was an accident,’ he said.

  ‘You pulled down her trousers by accident?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Don’t treat me like an idiot, Rob.’

  ‘I’m not, miss.’

  ‘How is it possible to pull down a girl’s trousers by accident?’

  ‘You trip over something, miss. Miss. I’d never do anything like that to Billie. I like her.’

  ‘Is that how you show a girl you like her? By pulling down her trousers in public?’

  He pulled a face.

  ‘I would imagine that the next time you see Billie it won’t be a very friendly encounter. Did you know that she was on her last chance here? And I don’t mean her last chance. I mean her last last chance?’

  ‘I know. She told me.’

  ‘Well, she’s blown that now, hasn’t she? With your help. We can’t let her back in here. Chris’s parents are pressing assault charges on her. Maybe even Actual Bodily Harm.’

  To my satisfaction, he looked horrified. I nodded. ‘Did you know she’s gone on the run? Did you know that?’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t blame her for running, either,’ I went on. ‘She’ll be off to the LOK now. Secure after that, more likely than not. With a record. Well done, Rob. You’re a pretty good friend to have around, aren’t you? I just hope for your sake that Billie doesn’t show her gratitude too forcefully.’

  He didn’t say anything, just sloped off. Friends with Billie! I ask you. You believe that, you’ll believe anything. Manipulative as well as a bully. Well – there must be something to like about that kid, but for the life of me I can’t see it.

  On the other hand, there was Chris Trent. After what happened, the school decided to take him back in. But then I made my way down at break on Friday morning – and there he was drinking tea and eating toast with the others. I did a complete double-take. The other kids were all clustered round him like he was some kind of big cheese – having your balls crushed by Billie evidently conferred some sort of glamour.

  ‘Chris,’ I said. ‘What are you doing here?’

  I didn’t get any further than that. Jim popped his head out of the door and beckoned me over.

  ‘You’re not going to believe this,’ he said.

  So it turns out that Chris and Billie made friends when she went round to the hospital. Somehow, he’d managed to talk his parents into dropping the charges. I could hardly believe my ears. Neither could Jim. He’d had to ring the police and check it out before he believed it.

  ‘They were furious about it,’ he said. ‘They thought they had her this time.’

  Billie! You jammy cow. How many lives has that girl got? But it wasn’t jammy, was it? She went to say she was sorry. See, Billie? You’re getting it right. You’ve given yourself another chance. All you have to do is take it. I had my phone out to call her, but she wasn’t picking up, so I texted her instead – ‘Billie, they’ve dropped the charges. Ring me now!’

  ‘But he still shouldn’t be here, should he?’ I told Jim.

  Jim scratched his face. ‘He’s supposed to be at school,’ he admitted. ‘But … he wants to be here.’

  I shrugged. ‘Since when did we let kids come here on demand?’ I asked.

  ‘Since they do things like that?’ said Jim.

  ‘But the school’ll be wanting to know where he is,’ I said. Technically, we were complicit in helping him truant. ‘What about his parents? Do they know?’

  Jim shrugged. ‘I haven’t found the time to ring them yet,’ he said. ‘Busy morning. I’m assuming there’s some sort of cock-up going on.’

  ‘… And you’re not trying too hard to sort it out.’

  ‘… Not too hard.’

  Jim, we have our disagreements, but his heart’s in the right place. I thought, Chris, you little darling! I could have run out and kissed him there and then.

  See what I mean? The Chrises and the Robs. The good, the bad and the ugly. We try to offer them a good service in terms of keeping up with their work, but they’re often so far behind it’s a waste of time. Rob was one of those. When Melanie got in touch with his form teacher to ask about work, he just laughed at her. There wasn’t much point in making him do lessons – he was only here for a couple of weeks – so he came to me to do some PD. Personal development.

  A lot of the kids think PD is just a doddle. So it is – up to a point. It’s just games. You might do a drawing of yourself or write down what your good points are and what your bad points are and then afterwards everyone gets to talk about their choices. The kids all sit around looking bored more often than not. But, the thing is, talking about your good points and your bad points is a way of talking about yourself. It’s a way in. Before you know it, someone starts talking about what’s going on at home or at school or whatever. And with a bit of luck – out it all comes.

  You’d be amazed at the things some of our kids have to put up with. People see them as troublemakers, but if you knew the trouble that’s going on in their lives you wouldn’t think like that. Imagine it. Your mum’s on the bottle and the baby needs looking after. Or your dad’s in prison and your mum’s depressed, there’s no money. Under those circumstances, if you’re a responsible person, school isn’t going to be your first priority, is it? Your brothers and sisters need feeding, the baby’s hungry – and you’re spending your day sitting in a classroom putting your education first? Would you put school at the top of your list if that was your life? I certainly wouldn’t. And then when you do go in, you’re treated like some kind of delinquent brat.

  Those kids, to me, they’re not troublemakers – they’re heroes. Proper, real-life heroes. Giving up their chances in life to make sure that the people who are important to them are properly cared for – that’s heroic, isn’t it? And what do they get for it?
The whole system comes down on them like a ton of bricks.

  And then of course you also get the ones who are just useless lumps of trouble. You try to learn which ones are which. And, with a bit of experience, you can tell. Or you think you can.

  And then you get taken down a peg or two.

  We were doing a game called Futures. You write down what your dream for the future is. That’s it. Simple. Rob wanted to be a drummer in a death-metal band. Chris was in there, too. He wanted to be an entrepreneur and he was being a pain. He kept helping people.

  ‘Chris, what are you doing?’

  ‘I’m helping Maheed.’

  ‘Maheed, do you need any help?’

  ‘No, miss.’

  ‘Chris, let me repeat the question. What are you doing?’

  ‘I’m being helpful,’ he said.

  ‘No, you’re not. Helpful is when you do something people need. There’s no one in this room needs any help writing down a simple sentence saying what their dreams are. OK?’

  ‘All right, all right, keep your hair on.’

  Irritating, when he puts his mind to it. Helpful and irritating? What’s that about?

  I got back to Rob.

  ‘You play drums, then, do you, Rob?’ I asked him.

  ‘Used to,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, what happened?’

  He shrugged. ‘Me dad got rid of them.’

  ‘Why’d he do that?’ I said.

  Robbie smiled. ‘He said I was making a racket,’ he confessed. Everyone laughed. I waited. ‘Anyway,’ he said defensively. ‘He isn’t me real dad; he’s just a stepdad.’ And then he looked sideways at me and –

  I know that look. I thought, Right.

  We finished the session and I asked him to stay over. He didn’t like it, but he did as I asked. I waited till the rest of them had gone and I said, ‘I was just thinking, Rob, I don’t know anything about you really, do I?’

  ‘Nothing to know,’ he said.

  ‘So, tell me, how’s things at home?’

  ‘All right.’

  ‘What’s the set-up?’

  He began to talk, slowly at first. About his mum moving out, leaving him behind with his brother and his stepdad. Then a load of stuff about how great his mum was. My God, she was some kind of superwoman, this mum of his. Nothing about his stepdad, though, or any blame for her for going off and leaving him. Just how great she was for buying him a T-shirt.