by Kim Slater
He moves towards me, his fists balled and his body tense like he’s going to spring for me. He looks different here in my room to how he looks at school. Taller, broader. I stand up but I’ve no room to move with the bed behind me.
He stops suddenly and his shoulders sag. ‘What is the use? You cannot reason with ignorance.’
‘Who are you calling ignorant?’ I take my chance and step away from the bed. If he wants to start on me then he can have a go and get what’s coming. This is my home, not his.
Sergei pushes the camp bed flat and starts to unfold it.
‘I do not belong here. This is what you tell me every day at school and now you tell it to me here, in your home. I understand now, OK, Calum? Perhaps you can tell your friends I have the message now, so they stop doing this –’ He smacks his fist into his open hand.
I think about how Angie looked at him when she realized we knew each other.
‘Are you going to tell them?’ I nod towards the lounge. ‘About the stuff that happens at school?’
Sergei doesn’t answer but he doesn’t look away, either.
He pulls out the bed’s metal legs and stands back.
‘Do what you like anyway.’ I shrug. ‘It’s not me that gives you a hard time.’
‘But you are there when this hard time happens, yes?’
‘Yeah, but I don’t actually do anything to you. Linford, yes, sometimes Jack or Harry, but not me.’
‘You watch them do it. You laugh in all the right places, Calum.’
I stand up and walk over to the window. I have to shuffle sideways because his camp bed has taken up all the floor space.
The grass out back is so long the little path down to the gate has nearly disappeared.
‘Why can’t you just stay out of their way?’ I turn round when he doesn’t answer. ‘You didn’t have to walk by us today, did you? You could’ve gone the long way round.’
Sergei shakes his head slowly. He presses his lips together like he is trying hard to keep in lots of things he’d quite like to say.
He shakes out the fusty-smelling quilt that has been stuck in the back of the airing cupboard. He lays it carefully on top of the bed before walking over to the door.
‘You can ignore me all you like.’ I fold my arms. ‘Fact is, I don’t do anything.’
‘Exactly, Calum.’ He reaches for the handle and then turns around and looks right at me. ‘While your friends make so many people’s lives at school a misery, you do nothing. What a hero you are.’
Then he walks out and closes the bedroom door behind him.
We eat pizza then carrot cake while we watch catch-up You’ve Been Framed on TV, but I can’t taste any of the food and each mouthful feels dry and hard, like I’m swallowing marbles.
I sit at one side of the room and Sergei sits at the other. Dad and Angie are glued together on the couch, and when Dad pours their third glass of wine, she hooks her leg over his knee and he puts his arm around her and twists a piece of her hair around his fingers.
I look away and take a swig of my pop.
Sergei will probably call Dad names later, even though his mum is being just as gross.
I keep staring stonily at the television screen. Someone has filmed an idiot swinging on a stringy rope over a stream and, predictably, he falls in.
Out of the corner of my eye I notice Angie whisper something to Dad.
‘You two get off to your room if you like now, Cal,’ Dad says as if he’s doing us a favour. ‘I know you’ll want to watch one of your DVDs or get online, not sit with us old fuddy-duddies.’
Angie giggles and keeps repeating fuddy-duddies as if it’s the best joke ever.
Sergei shoots Dad a dark look, gets up and leaves the room.
I hear him slam his plate down in the kitchen and then my bedroom door opens, which makes want to scream at him to get out. He should be asking me if he can go in there, not acting as if this is his home now.
I don’t want to go to my room while he’s in there but I don’t want to watch Dad and Angie getting cosy on the settee either, so I stand up and follow him.
‘Close the door behind you, young ’un,’ Dad calls and Angie giggles again.
I stand just outside my bedroom door and spy in through the gap.
Sergei sits very still on his thin, lumpy mattress looking down at a small open suitcase. As far as I can tell, it’s full of scruffy old cardboard, the colour of worn-out rope.
After a minute or two I start to wonder why I’m standing out in the hallway like a loser while he’s got my bedroom all to himself.
I push the door open with my foot and step inside. He doesn’t look up.
‘What’s that?’ I demand, pointing at the open case. ‘There’s no room in here for all your crap.’
‘For your information, these are my buildings.’
‘They don’t look like buildings.’ I take a few steps closer, peering down at the black lines and folds in the flat, thick paper. ‘Just looks like a load of old cardboard to me.’
‘It seems that you do not know everything there is to know, after all.’ He smirks at me and I feel like upending his stupid suitcase on the floor.
‘You’ll have to keep all that stuff over your side. My bedroom’s too cramped as it is.’ I climb over his stuff and sit on my own bed. ‘When are you and your mum getting your own place?’
‘I do not know,’ he says. There are a few moments’ silence before he speaks again. ‘The sooner it happens then the better we will all feel, yes?’
‘Too right,’ I mumble, plumping my pillows up behind me. ‘Can’t come soon enough for me.’
‘You have some good film pictures here,’ he says, nodding to the posters that cover my walls. ‘I have seen all the Die Hard movies.’
‘Good for you.’
‘I have never seen so many films.’ He’s staring at the neat columns of DVDs piled up at the end of my bed, against the wall.
I don’t answer him.
He points to the scuffed shelf his side of the wall. ‘Is there room on here for some of my things?’
The shelf is mostly empty, just a few old books and magazines on there that I haven’t looked at for ages. I think about saying no just to be mean but I can’t be bothered. I just want him to go away or shut up. Preferably both.
‘Suppose so.’ I sigh. ‘If it keeps your stuff out of my way.’
‘Thank you, you are very kind,’ he says, but he doesn’t sound as though he means it at all.
I watch as he touches the pile of crappy old cardboard again like it’s something precious instead of the load of garbage it actually is.
On top of taking up half my bedroom, Sergei Zurakowski also talks in his sleep. All flipping night. Gobbledegook that sounds like ‘jar-deck and bark-char’. He repeats it over and over again and only stops when I throw my pillow at him.
It goes without saying I hardly sleep a wink.
Then, when I’m finally fast asleep and on a film set in Hollywood talking to Vin Diesel, he wakes me up.
‘Good morning.’
I open one eye to see him sitting up in bed, watching me. I grunt and pull the quilt over my head.
‘It is seven o’clock, Calum, time to rise.’
I snatch the quilt down and glare at him.
‘Seven o’clock? I don’t get up until eight.’ The quilt goes over my head again.
‘But we have to shower and have breakfast. We have to tidy up this room, yes?’
‘Get lost,’ I growl.
I hear him sigh and start to move around.
He pads out of the bedroom and the loo flushes. I try to get back to my dream, the bit where the director asks me to act as a stand-in for Vin Diesel, but it’s all dissolved now. Gone.
He comes back into the room and closes the door. Then the banging, thumping, sighing starts.
I snatch the quilt off my head again.
‘Can’t you just be quiet? What the hell are you doing?’
‘I am unpacking my thi
ngs,’ he says. He’s opened the bigger suitcase under the window now, taking up the last small square of space there was to stand there.
‘I don’t know why you’re bothering taking all that stuff out. With any luck, you won’t be staying here that long.’
But he just laughs and carries on unpacking as if I haven’t said a word.
I’m tying my shoelaces in the hallway when Sergei appears.
‘Ready?’
I look up at him. ‘Ready for what?’
‘To walk to school, of course.’ He hoists his rucksack higher on to his back.
‘Are you crazy? I’m not walking in with you.’ Linford’s face floats into my mind. ‘I don’t care when or how you get to school but you’re not walking in with me.’
I grab my own rucksack and push by him.
As I pass Dad’s bedroom, the door opens and Angie appears.
‘You two boys have a good day, yes?’ She yawns and rubs her eyes. She’s tied her hair back and her pink lipstick is gone.
Dad appears in his boxer shorts behind her, his hair stuck up into salt-and-pepper tufts.
‘Good to see you lads getting on,’ he says, clueless as usual. ‘I’m home again tonight, Cal, so see you then.’
I suddenly realize that when Dad goes away on a job again, I’ll be alone with Sergei and his mum.
I’ll be outnumbered in my own home.
After saying goodbye to Dad and Angie, me and Sergei leave the flat together.
As soon as we get out on to the street, I stride off on my own and keep on walking at a good speed. As I turn off the estate to head up the hill, I take a sly look over my shoulder. Sergei is still behind me and looks as though he is purposely hanging back. He stops outside the community centre and studies something pinned to the fence. The next time I turn around I can’t see him at all.
I arrive at school a bit early, with walking so fast. I hang around the gates a while but the lads don’t appear in our usual meeting spot. I eventually find them in the inner courtyard.
Harry is saying something to the others but he stops talking when I get closer.
‘I wondered where you lot were.’ I sidle up to them.
Linford looks up at me and then looks back down at his phone.
‘How was football last night?’ I say after a bit.
At first I don’t think anyone is going to answer, then Jack speaks.
‘It was good.’
My skin is crawling, like there’s something nasty creeping up on me that I can’t see.
‘How was your evening?’ Linford says with a smirk. ‘Enjoy spending it with your visitors, did you?’
‘It was OK,’ I say, feeling sick when I think who it was.
‘Can you smell summat?’ Harry says, looking round. ‘There’s a rotten smell around here somewhere.’
Jack laughs and I think for a moment Harry means me, and then I look round and see Sergei walking across the courtyard. Despite me telling him to keep out of Linford’s way at school, here he is, asking for trouble again.
‘Yo, Immi,’ Linford calls. ‘When you pissing off back home, then?’
For a second I think Sergei is heading over to us. My heart hammers, making it difficult to calm my thoughts down and think.
What am I going to say if he tells Linford he’s staying at our flat? Is it best to deny it or admit it? There is no way Linford will believe I knew nothing about Sergei staying with us until last night.
But Sergei stays silent and walks straight by us. I close my eyes and say a silent thanks.
Linford spits his chewing gum out like a bullet and it hits Sergei on the arm. He carries on walking, eyes focused straight ahead.
‘What’s his problem?’ Linford looks at him and back at me. ‘He needs teaching a proper lesson in manners, right, Cal?’
Sergei glances over and locks eyes with me.
‘Just ignore him,’ I say, looking down at my feet. ‘He’s not worth the effort.’
When I look up again, Linford is staring at me through narrowed eyes.
After school I spot the lads walking away from the gates. I break into a jog and catch up with them.
‘What’s happening?’ I say.
‘We’re going to that new chippy that’s opened up on Mapperley Top,’ Harry replies.
‘I’ll come with you.’ I fall in line just in time to catch a look that passes between Linford and Jack. ‘That’s OK, isn’t it?’ I bite my inside cheek as I wait for Linford to answer.
He shrugs. ‘If you like.’
I don’t know why things feel so strained. I’m relieved when, after a few minutes, we’re chatting about the football results and how Man U are doing in the league. Everything seems to be back to normal and I begin to wonder if I’m imagining this new awkwardness that appears to sit between me and them.
At the chippy I pretend I’m not hungry. I haven’t got enough coins in my pocket to buy even a small bag of chips.
Linford and Jack both get trays stacked with meat pie, chips and gravy and sit on the low wall outside the shop. I wait inside with Harry and watch as the server ladles curry sauce over an enormous tray of chips. My mouth waters.
Harry grabs two plastic forks and hands me one.
‘You’ll have to help me out here, Cal; there’s loads more than I thought.’
Our eyes meet for just a second. I think he knows why I haven’t ordered anything.
‘Thanks, mate,’ I mutter.
We sit down on the wall and everybody is quiet for a few minutes, shovelling the delicious hot food in.
We hear the booming bass beat first and then watch as a silver Mercedes cruises slowly past, the tinted windows rolled down but not far enough to see who is inside.
The car stops in front of us and the front passenger-side window glides all the way down.
‘Enjoying your tea, ladies?’ a voice shouts above the beat.
I see a mouth with a gold tooth first, then a thin, spotty face appears.
Linford laughs, puts his tray down on the wall and walks over to the car. He touches fists with the passenger.
‘You boys are growing up fast.’ The man grins, turning to whoever is driving. ‘You come see us when you ready to rumble, yeah? We pay well if you want to do some stuff for us.’
I can guess the sort of stuff he means.
He looks at us all in turn.
‘Say what?’ He cups his hand to his ear.
‘Yeah,’ we all chant in unison.
I don’t know what they do for a living but I’ve got a pretty good idea. Rumour is, most of them have done time inside, and from what I can see, they drive around the estates all day long, meeting up with people and pocketing money after long handshakes.
‘Stay clear of that shower of no-hopers,’ Dad told me when I started at the Comp. ‘They’re bad news. All of them.’
I lean forward, trying to see who is driving the car, but the tinted window is moving up again and I’m not fast enough.
The car moves off and Linford puts his hand up, watching them go before sitting down with his food again. He lets out a sigh of what sounds like relief.
I watch him as he puts a couple of chips in his mouth and chews slowly, scanning the road ahead, as if he wants to make sure the car has definitely gone.
If I didn’t know him better, I’d say his bravado seems to have deserted him. He’s gone all pale and quiet.
We sit on the wall for ages after we’ve finished eating. I’m glad. Even though nobody is saying much, I don’t feel like going home yet.
I glance sideways at Linford. He’s staring at the floor, digging sharply at the pebbles and chips of asphalt with his shoe, as if they’re to blame for something.
We’ve known each other since primary school but I don’t know where all the laughter went between us. It’s like it just seeped away down into the gutter.
Harry and Jack live on the opposite side of the estate, so they set off walking home together.
‘Fancy walking back t
he long way?’ I say to Linford. If we walk around the edge of the estate, we pass both our streets.
‘Nah, I’ve got to call at the shop,’ he says, standing up. ‘See ya.’
I sit on the wall on my own for a bit. The new chippy gets busy with everybody calling in after work for their tea. Sharing Harry’s food has made me hungrier, if anything. I wonder if there is anything in to eat at home and then I think about Sergei and his mum being there and my appetite fades a bit.
I stand up and out of nowhere I get this idea that if I run, I might be able to catch Linford up before he gets home. I could talk to him without the others listening – maybe it’s a chance to set things straight between us again.
Something has changed in our friendship but I don’t know what. It feels like standing onstage and glancing behind you to find someone changed the set without saying anything and you don’t know the part you’re supposed to be playing any more.
If I can talk to Linford now, just the two of us, maybe we can clear the air.
But when I look in the direction he walked off, he’s nowhere to be seen. He must have rushed home. By the time I get to Linford’s street I’m puffing like an old man. I stop running and turn the corner and there he is, just about to walk in his front gate.
‘Linford!’
He turns round and when he sees it’s me, his face falls. He pushes at the gate. The bottom hinge is broken and it scrapes on the concrete path, making a sharp sound like a dry cough.
‘What’s up?’ he barks, taking a step away from the gate.
‘I just wanted to talk to you. I –’
Linford’s head whips round as his front door flies open.
A burly man with a firm round belly and ruddy cheeks fills the doorway.
‘What time d’ya call this? You were supposed to be back before six to look after your sister, you little runt.’ He steps out of the door and stomps towards the gate in socked feet, swigging from a can of lager. ‘Where the hell have you been?’
It’s ages since I’ve seen Linford’s stepdad and he looks almost unrecognizable. He’s put on loads of weight and his head looks over-inflated, like a red balloon stuck on his meaty shoulders.
‘S-sorry, Dad, I forgot,’ Linford stammers, his face draining of colour. ‘We went for some tea.’