by Chris Vick
There was no time to argue. I grabbed the packet, deciding I’d get rid of it the second he was out of the bog. He walked straight out.
What was I going to do? Flush it? Chuck it out of the window? Wash it down the sink?
The window was quickest. But it was too high for me to reach. You needed some kind of pole to open it.
The toilet, then. But there was a piece of paper stuck on the door, and on it, written in biro:
Broken. Please use staff toilets.
Never mind, I thought. I can shove it down the pan. They couldn’t pin it on me, even if they found it.
A man with his kid came in. He looked at the cubicle door and the sign, then he looked me up and down. I had the weed in my hand, but held tight, behind my back.
I looked suspicious. No doubt about it.
He took his son to the urinals. And I just stood there staring at their backs. I couldn’t go in the bog now, could I? The man turned, looking at me out the corner of his eye.
I had to get rid of it properly. Quickly. But I was frozen to the spot.
There weren’t any other options apart from washing it down the sink. But unwrapping it and breaking it up would be pretty obvious. And I couldn’t just stand there, waiting for the man and his kid to finish pissing and go.
If the police came in, I was screwed. I was surprised they hadn’t come in already. I was almost crapping myself. I couldn’t think straight, only, This can’t be happening. But it was.
For one crazy moment I even thought of eating it.
There were no other choices. The man and his kid were busy at the urinals. I walked a step so I was directly behind them, then shoved the cellophane-wrapped weed down my boxers and under my nuts, with a cold, heavy hand.
I took a deep breath, checked myself in the blotchy mirror. I was white as the bog walls.
Fear makes the wolf look bigger. You can do this, I said, silently, to the guy in the mirror who wasn’t me. Then I opened the door and walked out.
The police were all over Rag. They had his arms spread and were going through his pockets. One of them had his face an inch from Rag’s ear, and was firing questions at him. And Rag was smiling, cocky as shit.
“Can’t a dude have breakfast without police harassment?” he said. Cheeky bastard. I had to give him cred though. He was playing his part, getting their full attention, so I could scarper.
Poor Skip. He just stood by the table, staring at the floor, looking embarrassed. At first I couldn’t see where Jade had gone. Then I saw her by the cafe door. She was hiding behind a family of four who were clearly getting off on this whole scene, with their two young sons grinning like their favourite TV police show was happening, live, right in front of them.
Jade was pretending to play on her phone. She saw me and nodded. I nodded back. I guessed she knew what we’d done. She’d worked it out. I headed for her. Not straight at the door. Too obvious.
It was all happening fast. It was all happening too slow. There was no air. I couldn’t breathe. It was like being down deep, held under. And the door was like the light and air above the surface. All I had to do was hold on, make it back to the top.
Rag grinned, turned to face the policeman who was going through his pockets.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” said Rag. The man had a go-on-make-it-worse-for-yourself smile on his face. The other one took Rag’s bag off the floor and emptied it on the table, sending the salt-shaker and an empty cup flying.
That was our chance. When I was sure all eyes were on Rag, I poked Jade in the side, and we slipped out the door.
Our boards and bags were on the ground outside. We didn’t pick them up.
There was another policeman, on the phone, with his back to us, leaning against their van. Next to him was a dog, an Alsatian. It saw us, sat upright. Staring at us. It looked like a wolf. A big one.
We walked straight past.
Ten yards. Twenty. Jade put her hand in mine, squeezed it. I started to breathe.
Holy shit, I thought, holy shit.
Another few yards, and I’d chuck the weed. We could come and get it later. Or not. I didn’t care. I just wanted rid of it.
I felt light. Cool. Free.
I thought we were out of there.
I didn’t hear him sneak up behind us.
“Hold on,” he said. I turned. The policeman was coming right at us. He had the dog-wolf on a leash. It was almost pulling him over. And it was looking right at me.
The dog sniffed around my junk. The policeman put his hand out.
“Hand over, son. Unless you’d rather a strip search.”
THEY TOOK ME to the station and left me, sat at a table in the interview room.
There was a small, square, black machine on the table, probably some kind of recording device, and a cup of tea they’d given me, going cold. Opposite me, on the other side of the table, an empty chair.
Nothing to do but think. I guess that was the point of leaving me alone.
Questions fired through my mind.
What was Mum going to say? Was there any way I could stop her finding out?
Would I get suspended from school?
Would I get fined, or community service?
Would I get a record?
I was stupid for taking the stuff off Rag; stupid for not getting rid of it.
A man came in after five minutes. He was about Mum’s age with short, dark hair. He was dressed smart-casual, shirt but no tie, smiling.
“Hello, Sam. I’m Detective Jones,” he said, shaking my hand, like he was my new best friend. “Now, Sam. Hmmm,” he said, smoothly, “this is the first time anything like this has happened to you, isn’t it?”
“Shouldn’t I have a lawyer or something?” I said, looking at the machine. No lights on. It wasn’t turned on as far as I could tell. “Shouldn’t I be interviewed with an adult present?” Jade had told me that once.
“This is just a friendly chat between you and me. Of course we’ll get someone if we interview you, and if we charge you. But I was hoping we might avoid that.”
“But I thought…” I stopped myself. I didn’t want to give anything away. He’d said ‘if’.
He shook his head, kept on smiling, like he was being really patient with me.
“We haven’t charged you. Not yet. We will charge you –” he paused – “if we know for a fact that the bag you were carrying was yours. We’ll charge you with possession –” another pause – “with intent to supply. In plain English: dealing drugs.”
Fear tore at my gut. My head had already gone haywire thinking about fines and community service. Stuff I could handle if I had to. But dealing. That was different.
I was thinking, There wasn’t that much in that packet. But then I hadn’t really looked at it. I had no idea how much there was, or how much you had to have to get done for dealing.
“Maybe –” Smiley Detective Jones started, slowly, like an idea was coming to him as he spoke – “maybe… you carried it for someone else?”
That was it then. They knew what had happened. They knew it was Rag they were meant to bust. Rag had been set up.
“How did you know about… us being there?” I said. “Did someone tell you?”
He just smiled at me.
I knew Rag had been in trouble before. Maybe he was on his last chance and they really wanted him. And Smiley was threatening me. No wonder this ‘friendly chat’ wasn’t official. They weren’t interested in me, not as long as I gave them Rag.
He looked at me hard, for a reaction. I didn’t give him one. I wanted to punch him. I hated what he was doing. But truth was, I wasn’t going to take the rap for dealing. I wasn’t prepared to go to a young offenders’ institution, just to cover Rag’s arse.
Smiley waited. I hadn’t been charged. All I had to do was tell him what had happened.
I thought, He knows I’m going to tell him. That’s why he’s smiling.
I thought of Jade. Imagined her saying how I’
d done a lot for Rag, and how it wasn’t my fault.
And Skip. He’d say Rag had it coming.
And G. He’d say he’d have done the same as me.
They’d say how I’d had no choice.
They’d say it had been the right thing to do.
I mean. Anyone would have done the same.
And Rag… I didn’t want to think about Rag.
“Do you know what it’s like at a young offenders’ institution, Sam?” said Smiley. He was trying to scare me. Bullying me. I didn’t like it.
I thought, What if I don’t tell him? Fear makes the wolf look bigger, and I had a sure-as-shit feeling he was playing me. Else, why were we having this off the record ‘chat’?
Yeah. He knew I was going to tell him, all right.
The smug twat.
“It’s mine,” I said, sitting up straight.
He was still smiling. But he was forcing it now. He sat up straight too, clasped his hands and put them on the table. He leant forward.
“What did you say, Sam? And think carefully before you open your mouth again; think for a while before you …”
“It’s mine. The weed I had. It’s mine.” I sat forward too, copying what he did. That wiped the smile off his stupid face. It made him angry. I felt good about that.
“You’re in a lot of trouble, Sam. I don’t think you know how much…”
“It’s mine,” I said.
“Where did you get it from?”
“Are you charging me?”
“There’s no need if you…”
“Are you charging me?” I said.
I had this wild, hot tingling all over my body. It felt good. Like jumping off the cliff, or taking on a big wave.
“Yes, Sam,” said Detective Not-Smiling-Any-More. “We’re going to interview you with an adult present. You’re going to say it’s yours, on record, then we’re charging you. Possession of a suspected Class B controlled substance.”
*
There were a lot of forms.
And they did get hold of an adult.
The door opened.
Mum stood there, staring at me with sad, angry eyes.
“DRUGS, SAM. DRUGS.” Mum said, through her teeth, as she stirred sugar into her tea.
She’d been quiet driving home from the police station. Hadn’t said a word, not even to answer Teg’s endless questions. But soon as she’d packed Teg off upstairs and sat me down in the kitchen, she made it clear she was going to make up for it.
“Drugs.” She kept saying it. Slowly, quietly, like I didn’t know what I’d done. Like I didn’t know what ‘drugs’ were. She was calm, in that way people force themselves to be when they’re really furious.
I looked up at the clock. Three o’clock. I had a whole evening of this lined up. Joy.
“Drugs. Not shoplifting. Not drinking cider till you throw up. Not something normal. Oh no. My son has to deal drugs.”
“I wasn’t dealing,” I said, with my arms folded, staring at the table.
“Then how come you had so much?”
I shrugged. I hadn’t told the police anything. I wasn’t going to tell her either. I didn’t want to tell the truth; I didn’t want to lie.
“You heard what that policeman said,” she said, after a long, dragging silence. “If you’d had a bit more, they’d have done you for dealing.”
It was true. Rag’s little package was as much as you could claim was for ‘personal use’, and even then, only if you were one dedicated puffer. But I’d been right about Smiley, threatening me. They couldn’t have done me for dealing.
“I wasn’t dealing,” I said.
“All for you, was it? Or were you giving it away? Making yourself popular with your new friends.” She was glaring, staring, accusing, sarcastic. But her bottom lip was trembling, and her hand was shaking when she picked up her tea.
I felt nervous, awkward. I hated this grilling, but I felt sorry for Mum too. This was hard on her. All she wanted was the truth. But I couldn’t trust her not to tell the police, or go round to Rag’s house and bully him into fessing up. Because she knew I was covering for him. The police had pretty much told her. They knew what and who they were looking for when they came into that cafe. Someone had set Rag up. Billy, probably.
“Jesus. I thought taking you away from London was a good idea. I thought bringing you down here would keep you away from all that crap … and… and…” She stopped halfway through her sentence. A tear was rolling down her cheek.
There was a knock at the kitchen door.
“Are you all right, Mummy?” Tegan’s voice said through the keyhole. Teg opened the door. She stood there, in her giraffe onesie, toy rabbit hanging at her side. Seeing Teg made me feel worse than anything.
“I told you to stay upstairs,” said Mum.
“Are you bad, Sam? Are you going to prison?” said Teg. Mum got up, knelt down, holding Teg gently by the shoulders.
“Listen, Honey-bundle. Sam’s made friends with some bad boys. The police think he did something the other boys did. But he didn’t and he’s not going anywhere. Do you understand? He’s not going anywhere.”
“Promise?” said Teg.
“Promise,” said Mum, kissing Teg on the cheek.
“Promise, Sam?” said Teg, to me. I nodded. Mum took Tegan back upstairs.
Long moments passed.
Mum came down. She had a magazine in her hand, rolled up. For a second I thought she might whack me with it. But she opened it, and started reading. “‘What is skunk doing to our teenagers?’ You’re a science geek, Sam. You like facts. Well here’s some for you. Marijuana is twice as strong as it was twenty years ago. It can affect short-term memory and a developing teenage brain in ‘irreversible ways’. It says here there is a high correlation between schizophrenia and smoking skunk. Smoking it can give you lung cancer. One joint is the same as smoking eight normal cigarettes, or something.” She looked up. “Shall I go on?”
I shrugged.
She threw the magazine at the wall. But that wasn’t enough. She picked up her teacup and threw that too, smashing it to pieces, leaving a massive splodge of brown tea dribbling down the paintwork.
“It’s because you haven’t got a father, isn’t it? That’s why you’ve gone off the rails!” she shouted. She put her head in her hands and started crying. Properly sobbing.
I hadn’t expected that. It was so wrong.
“I’m sorry, Mum. I’m really sorry.”
Mum wiped at her eyes, trying to get it together.
“I won’t do it again, Mum. I’ll never touch it. Nor anything else.” I meant it too. I wanted her to believe it.
It was a good minute before she could talk again.
She banged her fist on the table. “This surfing nonsense stops right now.” She pointed her finger at me like it was a weapon. “You can kiss goodbye to that board and your idiot druggy friends,” she said, through angry tears. “In fact, if you don’t stop surfing and hanging with that crowd, I’m taking us all back to London.”
“What?” I said. She had to be saying it just to hurt me. Had to be. She couldn’t mean it. “Mum, you can’t do that.”
“Get rid of that board and that wetsuit. If you don’t, I will.”
I kept calm then. I forced myself.
Like she said, I was a science geek. I did like facts.
And this is what I knew.
Mum meant what she said.
Me giving up surfing had zero per cent probability.
Those were the facts.
THE SILENCE WAS painful then. It went on and on. Mum had delivered her killer punch. No more surfing. She didn’t have anything else and she didn’t need it.
I wasn’t going to give up the truth, so she was going to punish me. As hard as she could.
And I was pissed off. More than I had been at anything, ever, but I wasn’t going to start arguing. Or worse, begging. So we sat in silence.
There was a knock at the front door.
&n
bsp; “You get that, Sam,” she said. “It’s probably the police. I expect they’ve talked to your drug dealer friend Stephen by now.”
Stephen. I went totally blank for a moment. I’d forgotten Rag even had a real name. Perhaps they had talked to him. Perhaps I was off the hook. Or not. I’d still tried to smuggle away the ‘evidence’, hadn’t I?
I dragged myself out of the kitchen and into the hallway, wondering in what new and twisted way God was about to make my day worse. The day had that kind of vibe about it.
But it wasn’t the police. It was Jade, with Tess.
“You look like shit,” she said.
“Thanks.”
Mum came up behind me. “Hello, Jade.”
“Hi.”
Jade stood there, waiting to be asked in. But Mum didn’t do that. She stood behind me, not saying anything. The world had changed. And in this new world, I was no longer friends with Jade. But what was Mum going to do? Tell Jade that, right there and then?
“Is Tegan okay?” said Jade. The sound of Teg crying was coming from upstairs. I hadn’t even noticed. Mum left us. I walked out of the door into the cold and wind.
Jade threw herself at me and held me tight like she was never going to let go, standing on tiptoe, pressing her cold cheek against mine.
“Are you okay?” she whispered.
“Yeah, kind of. How’s Rag?”
“Crapping himself.”
I pulled her away, so she could see my face. She had a hold of my jumper on either side of my waist, gripping tight.
“Listen. I didn’t tell them anything,” I said.
“I know you didn’t.”
“How?”
“Because you’re you.”
And then she kissed me.
On the lips. Full on.
I was blown away. Not just from the kiss, but also at the wonder of how the shittest day ever can turn into the best one in a second.
We hugged, our bodies tight together. Tess came and nuzzled at our legs, trying to get in between us.
“I need to get out of here,” I said.
“Let’s go see the others.”
“Not a good idea right now. We should let Rag know he’s in the clear though.”