Drive By

by Jim Carrington

  Summer

  I smile as I see him. He sees me too, but he doesn’t smile. He gets up from the bench and walks hesitantly in my direction, not making eye contact. I’m not getting good vibes from him.

  ‘Hi, Johnny.’

  ‘Hi.’ He tries to force a smile, but I can tell he doesn’t mean it.

  Then we stand awkwardly for a while. He doesn’t look directly at me or say a word.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  Silence. He looks at the ground. I don’t know what to say to him.

  ‘Let’s go somewhere quiet,’ Johnny says eventually. ‘We need to talk.’

  I nod, but I have a sinking feeling. I don’t like this. It’s never good news when someone says, ‘we need to talk.’ Nobody ever ‘needs to talk’ when it’s good news.

  We walk to the café in the park. There are loads of mums with their babies and their buggies in there. We get our drinks without saying a word and find a place in the corner, away from everyone else. The whole time Johnny doesn’t look at me. He seems odd. T?witchy. Nervous. Like he’s thinking about something secret. I’m guessing that whatever he’s thinking about is the thing we need to talk about.

  Even when we’re sat down, Johnny doesn’t say anything. He hunches over the table, cradling his drink, wiping the beads of moisture on the outside of the can with his fingers.

  ‘So?’ I say.

  Johnny looks up at me as though I’ve just startled him. He closes his eyes for a second and sighs. ‘I don’t know how to say this . . .’

  Those seven words are enough to make me want to run from the café crying. This is how it starts. This is the start of the end, I know it. ‘How to say what?’

  He sighs again and looks at his can. ‘I think we should stop seeing each other.’

  He catches my eye for a second, then looks away. I stare at him. I knew that he was gonna say that. There was no way he was gonna say anything else. But still I’m shocked to hear the words come out of his mouth. I feel tears start to form in the corner of my eyes. ‘What? Why?’

  He hunches over even more. He doesn’t say anything.

  ‘Don’t you like me?’

  He closes his eyes. ‘Of course I do,’ he says. He opens his eyes again and bites his lower lip with his teeth. He looks like he’s about to cry. ‘I think you’re amazing, but . . .’

  ‘Then why?’ I say. ‘I thought there was something between us. A spark.’

  Johnny closes his eyes. He sits there for maybe ten seconds, eyes closed, breathing deeply, before he opens them again and looks up at me. ‘There is,’ he says. ‘But I can’t do this. There’s something about me that you don’t know, and when you find out you’re gonna hate me. We can’t see each other again . . . I’m sorry.’

  What is he talking about? ‘Are you seeing someone else?’ I say.

  He shakes his head, tears in his eyes.

  ‘Then what?’

  Johnny stands up. He puts his hand into his bag and takes a piece of paper out. A letter. ‘I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.’

  He places the letter down on the table. He looks at me. I can see that he’s trying to stop the tears. Then he looks away and walks off through the café.

  I stay where I am. Frozen. Shocked. I stare at the letter. My name’s written on the front. For a second I feel like ripping it up without reading it, getting up and running after Johnny. But the moment passes and all I do is sit and stare at my name written on the piece of paper.

  Johnny

  I start running as soon as I’m outside the café. I don’t want her to come after me or catch me up. I don’t want to see Summer again for as long as I live. I know what she’s thinking of me this very second. She knows what I did to her grandma and she knows how much of a coward I am. She hates me. She has every right to. I hate me. How could anyone not hate me?

  After a couple of minutes, I’m out of the park so I stop running. I switch my mobile back on. Immediately my message tone sounds a couple of times. More messages from Mum and Dad. I delete them. I don’t want to read what they have to say or hear their voices right now. I write them a text of my own instead.

  I’m sorry for what I did to Mikey. I’m OK, but I’m not coming home. I have something I need to do. You’ll understand soon. Sorry. I love you.

  I linger over the send button for a few seconds. It seems like a melodramatic thing to send to them. What are they gonna think when they read that? But then what else am I meant to write to them? I’m not gonna tell them what’s really going on – they’ll find out soon enough. Before I can change my mind, I send it.

  I start to write another message. To Badger and Drac and Jake. Only, I don’t know what to write, how to explain it to them in just a few words.

  I can’t keep this secret any more — it’s been eating away at me. Don’t worry — I’ll keep your name out of it. J

  I look at it for a few seconds, then I press send. As soon as the message is sent, I delete it from my sent items. I switch my phone off and look for a bus stop.

  Summer

  Johnny’s letter is still sitting on the table in front of me. His can of drink is there as well. He didn’t even take a sip from it.

  I’m still tempted to put the letter in the bin without reading it. Listening to Nan’s tapes from the medium didn’t make me any happier or any less confused. And it’s gonna be the same with this letter, I know it is. I mean, what can it possibly say? I didn’t realise how much of a weird, morbid freak you are. I don’t like you enough, so this has to end. I think I can do better. It’s not me, it’s you.

  I know I’m not gonna put the letter in the bin though. I have to know what it is that’s made him behave like this. Maybe he’s overreacting. Maybe we can sort it out, whatever it is. Everything seemed to be going fine. Weird, maybe, but only in a good way. At least, that’s what I thought till yesterday, till I saw him at Grandad’s. Johnny seemed different then. He’d changed somehow.

  I have to know. I have to see if we can make it right. I lean forward, take the letter from the table and open it.

  Dear Summer,

  I’m really sorry that I’m writing this to you. I’m too much of a coward to tell you to your face. I hope one day you’ll be able to forgive me, though I know I don’t deserve it. The truth is, we can’t see each other any more. It’s not because of anything you’ve done. It’s not because I don’t think you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met – because you are. It’s because I’ve been keeping a secret from you and I can’t keep it any more.

  There’s no easy way to put this, Summer. I’ve been sitting here for hours trying to think of a way I can explain this and I have no clue. All I can say is that I’m not proud of what happened. I’m ashamed. A couple of weeks ago, I was on my bike in Raynes Park when I saw someone sitting in a car with the window wound down. I didn’t know at the time, but it was your grandma. Me and my friends had our water pistols with us and I suggested we shoot them at her through the open window. I can’t begin to justify why we did it. It was a stupid thing to do. It was meant to be a joke. We didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt. I wish I could go back and change things, but I can’t. It was a really stupid decision. That’s all it was. But it cost your grandma her life. If it wasn’t for us, she would never have had a heart attack and she would still be alive today.

  I know my apologies won’t make it any better, but I am sorry. I couldn’t be more sorry.

  I only realised it was your grandma yesterday when I saw you at your grandad’s house. I’m so sorry for the hurt that this will cause you. Please believe me when I say that the last thing I wanted to do was hurt you.

  I’m going to the police station right now to tell them what happened. I can’t live with myself any longer. I don’t know what will happen to me, but I promise I’ll stay away from you for ever.

  Love,

  Johnny

  I fold up the piece of paper and place it back on the table. I stare into sp
ace. I don’t know what to think.

  Johnny

  I get off the bus and look up at the police station. I get a strange, nervous feeling in my stomach. My heart is thumping and I have sweaty palms. This is it. There’s no going back. I have to go in there and put it right.

  I cross the road and walk slowly up the steps. As I get closer to the door, I think maybe I’m gonna chicken out. I could turn around, get on a bus and leave. I could take all the money out of my bank account and spend it on getting as far away from this mess as I possibly can. I could run away. I reckon I’d be able to get a long way from here. Out of the country, probably. I could go somewhere no one knows me, where no one knows what I’ve done, and start over again. But I know that’s just idle thinking. I’m not gonna feel any better if I run away cos I’d feel just the same way I do right now. The only way to feel any better about this is to face up to it, to take responsibility at last.

  I open the door and step inside. I look around me. It looks just like the waiting room of a dentist or something – a few brown chairs in one corner, a load of posters on the wall and some leaflets. Over on the right-hand side there’s a booth with a screen, kind of like in banks. Behind the screen there’s a policeman in a white short-sleeved shirt. His head is down, lost in paperwork.

  I take a deep breath and walk to the counter.

  ‘Excuse me,’ I say.

  The police officer looks up from his papers. ‘Can I help you?’

  I pause. I try and think of the right way to say this. ‘Can I speak to someone?’ I say. ‘I’ve committed a crime. I killed someone.’

  Summer

  I open the front door and go straight through to the living room, where Grandad’s sitting in his chair.

  ‘Hello, Summer,’ he says.

  I sit down on the sofa without a word. I’ve been thinking about how to say this all the way here, but I’m totally clueless. I don’t want to hurt his feelings, but I need to know the truth.

  ‘Are you OK, Summer?’

  I shake my head. ‘No. I’m not.’

  Grandad stares at me, like he wasn’t expecting that answer and doesn’t know what to say.

  ‘Grandad, how did Nan die?’

  Grandad’s eyebrows raise and then furrow in one movement. He takes a deep breath. ‘Summer . . .’ He stops.

  ‘Did she die because of the heart attack she had the other week?’

  Grandad shifts uncomfortably in his seat. ‘Well, yes. I –’

  ‘What caused it?’

  Grandad looks down at his lap.

  ‘Did she get shot at by some kids on bikes?’

  Grandad looks up at me suddenly, like I’ve taken him by surprise.

  ‘Did she?’

  Grandad nods and sighs.

  My head’s filled with a confusing mix of emotions. I can’t work out whether I’m disappointed or confused or angry or what. ‘Why didn’t anyone tell me?’

  ‘I honestly don’t know, Summer.’ He breathes deeply and stares into space.

  ‘Didn’t anyone think that it was important? Didn’t anyone think I’d like to know?’

  Grandad just looks back at me. He looks sad and old and shrivelled. ‘I’m sorry, Summer. I suppose we didn’t think it would help you to know.’

  ‘What?’

  Grandad looks down at his lap. ‘Nobody meant to upset you.’

  I can’t help but let out a snort. I feel angry. ‘So yet again the adults decide that I can’t be trusted to know the truth? Is that it?’

  Grandad’s eyebrows furrow. ‘No,’ he says. ‘Not at all. Why do you say that?’

  I snort. I feel too angry and frustrated to say anything.

  ‘Would it have made a difference to have known what caused the heart attack? She still died, whatever anyone said or didn’t say.’

  I sigh.

  ‘What’s brought this up, love?’ Grandad says quietly.

  I take a deep breath. ‘I know who did it. I know who shot at Nan.’

  It’s difficult to read the expression on Grandad’s face – it’s surprised, angry and sad all at the same time.

  ‘You know the boy that did it as well, Grandad,’ I say. ‘Johnny. The boy who picked you up off the pavement.’

  Grandad stares at me in disbelief. ‘Are you sure?’

  I nod. ‘Positive. He just wrote me a letter confessing and apologising.’ I hold the letter up, wave it in front of Grandad’s eyes. ‘He’s handing himself into the police this morning. He thinks he killed Nan.’

  Grandad closes his eyes for a second and shakes his head. Then he looks at me. He sighs. ‘Nobody killed your nan.’

  I’m confused. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘No one killed your nan apart from herself.’ Grandad looks down at his hands. He looks like he doesn’t want to tell me this. ‘Your nan hadn’t been happy for a long time, Summer. She hadn’t been well for a long time.’ He doesn’t meet my eyes as he talks; it’s like he can’t bring himself to. ‘To be frank, I think she gave up on life. She stopped taking her heart pills a long while ago. I tried nagging her, but . . . Well, you know how stubborn she could be.’

  I’m shocked. I always knew Nan hated having to take so many pills – she always used to moan and make a big drama out of it – but I never thought she’d just refuse to. ‘Really?’

  Grandad nods. ‘She took the medication when she was in hospital to keep the doctors happy, but as soon as she came out of hospital she refused again. It was a matter of time, Summer. We had an argument the night she came home. I tried to persuade her to take her medication, but I couldn’t. She passed away in her sleep that night. I think that was what she wanted – she’d had enough suffering for one lifetime. She got her own way in the end.’

  ‘Why? Why wasn’t she happy?’

  Grandad scratches his cheek and stares into space. He takes another long, sad breath. ‘Lots of reasons,’ he says. ‘Mostly because she never got over the death of your dad, I think.’

  I stare at Grandad. I can feel tears in my eyes.

  ‘She was never the same after he died.’

  I close my eyes and try to stop myself from crying. I have to hold it together cos I need to find out more. ‘What happened, Grandad?’ I say. ‘What really happened to Dad?’

  Grandad shifts uncomfortably again.

  ‘Did Nan and Dad have an argument before he died?’

  He nods his head slowly and reluctantly, then closes his eyes.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It was about money. Can you believe it?’ Grandad says. He opens his eyes and looks at me. There are tears in his eyes as well now.

  I look back at him, not sure what to say.

  ‘We’d lent money to him and your mum,’ he says. ‘Your nan wasn’t happy about James owing us that money because he seemed to be spending money like it was going out of fashion. She never liked the fact that he spent most of his money on drinking and smoking. Things came to a head one afternoon when he was round here. They talked about money, your nan had a bit of a dig at your dad and he took offence. Then things escalated. Your nan demanded he pay the money back. She gave him a month to find the money. They had a blazing row and your dad said some things he didn’t mean and so did your nan. Your dad decided he’d had enough and stormed off.’

  I nod. I feel a tear leak from my eye and roll down my cheek.

  ‘He went out drinking that night and didn’t go home until the early hours of the morning. He was steaming drunk. And then he started arguing with your mum.’

  Tears are running down both my cheeks now.

  ‘He drove to work the next day,’ Grandad says. ‘Of course he was still well over the alcohol limit. He wasn’t thinking straight. He skipped a red light and got hit by a van. The silly fool wasn’t even wearing a seatbelt. He didn’t stand a chance.’

  I sigh, but it comes out a bit like a whimper.

  ‘Your nan blamed herself every day for the last sixteen years, Summer. The truth is that it was no one’s fault, but she w
ouldn’t accept that.’

  I close my eyes.

  Johnny

  I have no idea what time it is or what’s going on. Things have been happening around me and I don’t seem to have any bearing on them now. I’m powerless and lost and confused. I wish I could curl up in a corner and go unnoticed.

  All I know is this. When I came to the police station and admitted killing someone, they didn’t handcuff me immediately and throw me in a cell like I thought they would. Instead they asked me what my name was and where I lived and how old I was. They asked me to turn out my pockets and they wrote down all the things that I had on me and then took them away in a clear bag.

  They said they wanted to interview me under caution, but that I needed an ‘appropriate adult’ with me – a parent or guardian. I shook my head, mumbled that I didn’t want anyone else to know. The thought of admitting what I’d done in front of the police was bad enough, but having to admit it in front of Mum or Dad as well was too much.

  While we waited for my parents to turn up, I sat in the front office. I was expecting some grey cell with graffiti scratched into the paintwork – at least I would’ve been hidden away if I’d been in a cell. Instead I sat on my own, watching people come in and out of the police station. I was terrified and nervous and empty. I started to doubt that I was doing the right thing. The police had told me I was free to go at any time.

  I have no idea how much time had passed, but later Dad turned up. He looked like I felt. Shocked. Scared. Disbelieving. Out of his depth. A solicitor turned up too. We talked, I answered questions, but I really have no idea what was said – the words just washed over me. It was like it was happening to someone else, like I wasn’t there.

  Eventually I was taken through the corridors to another room. An interview room, grey, with strip lights, empty except for brown office furniture and a tape recorder.