928 Miles from Home

by Kim Slater

‘I just – I wondered if everything is . . .’

  I think about his final warning look at me last night at his front gate and I know I can’t talk to the others about it or mention what happened in front of them.

  ‘I fell down the stairs at home, OK?’ Linford shoves his phone in his pocket and balls his fists. ‘Shut your mouth about it now, I don’t want to hear no more.’

  When he stands up and stalks off, Jack and Harry follow him like two whipped puppies.

  I watch them go and just stand where I am for a few seconds, trying to work out why what Linford just said seems out of place.

  I rub at my eye, trying to make the tic stop, and then it hits me.

  Linford lives with his mum, sister and stepdad in a ground-floor flat. He doesn’t have any stairs at home to fall down.

  At break-time, we don’t go to the snack bar. There’s more silent standing around the courtyard, Linford staring at his phone and the rest of us looking at the floor.

  An incoming text beeps and Linford shields the message as he reads it. He sends a text back to whoever it is and puts his phone back in his pocket.

  ‘I won’t be coming out after school,’ he says to nobody in particular, looking down. ‘I’ve got a bit of work on.’

  ‘What kind of work?’ I ask him.

  ‘Bits and bobs.’ He shrugs. ‘It pays well and that’s all I’m bothered about.’

  The air feels thick and warm so I loosen my tie and pull at my shirt collar but nothing seems to alleviate the stickiness.

  We’ve all been in different lessons this morning so I haven’t had a chance to ask Jack or Harry what they think about Linford’s black eye, and I don’t want to text them in case he sees my message. I can’t even shoot them a knowing glance because neither of them will look at me. It seems to take forever for the bell to sound, but when it does, we all split for second-period lessons and, finally, I feel a bit lighter inside.

  As soon as lessons break for lunch, I head straight for the Technology block, but there’s nobody waiting. I wonder if the lads have had to take Linford to the school nurse to look at his eye, and nip over to the Admin block, but there is a notice on the nurse’s door saying she’s out for lunch.

  By the time I get to the dinner hall, they are all at the front of the queue, starting to make their choices. I grab a tray and push in front of a Year Seven boy so I’m right behind Harry.

  ‘Thanks for waiting for me,’ I hiss.

  ‘Sorry, mate, not my call.’ He presses his lips together in apology and slides his tray further down the counter as the queue moves along.

  I glance down the line at Linford’s scowling face. I don’t know when things started to change or what’s making him so angry with me. After what I witnessed outside his flat, I know things aren’t great at home for him, but that’s hardly my fault. Maybe I could try speaking to him on his own before afternoon lessons start.

  I don’t feel hungry at all but I choose a tuna salad baguette and a yogurt from the counter display. My stomach feels bloated like I already stuffed far too much food down.

  Usually we end up bolting our lunch at the end of our sitting because we’re so busy talking and messing about instead of eating. Today, I look around our table and see the tops of three heads as everyone shovels their food in silently.

  Back outside we sit on the low wall that runs around the courtyard. I slip off my blazer and look at the others. ‘Anyone fancy a game of footie down the field later?’

  ‘I thought you were too busy to play football with us these days.’ Linford sniffs, banging the heel of his shoe on the floor.

  ‘Don’t be daft.’ I laugh, but it catches in my throat and comes out as a cough. ‘We had people coming over the other night when you asked me, that’s all.’

  When I think about the identity of those visitors, the palms of my hands turn instantly clammy.

  ‘Maybe you’re trying to tell us summat, Cal, like you don’t want to be mates with us any more.’

  ‘Course not!’ It feels like there’s a jagged piece of flint sitting right in the middle of my throat. Jack and Harry are sitting here and we’re in the middle of the busy yard, but this might be the only chance I get to say my piece. ‘Look, have I done something wrong? Are you mad cos I followed you home? I wish you’d just come out and say it if you’ve got a gripe with me.’

  ‘What are you going on about?’ Linford gives me a dark, meaningful look through narrowed eyes.

  Jack and Harry look down at their feet and then up at the sky.

  ‘I dunno, it’s just that we don’t seem to have such a laugh as we all used to.’ I keep my voice light and relaxed, but underneath the table my toes are scrunched up tightly in my shoes.

  ‘Yeah, well, you never want a laugh any more, do you?’ Linford snaps back. ‘I’ve seen the look on your face just lately, when we’re having a bit of fun with certain people.’

  By ‘fun’ I’m guessing he means bullying Sergei.

  ‘You used to enjoy the craic, Cal, and now you’ve started acting like we’re boring you. If you don’t like our style then why don’t you just—’

  ‘Hey, look who it is,’ Jack calls out. I could hug him for providing a distraction until I see exactly who is heading our way and who now has Linford’s full attention.

  ‘I’m sick of seeing that ignorant git,’ Linford mutters behind gritted teeth. ‘He’s like our shadow, lately. Follows us everywhere.’

  He’s using his quiet, seemingly calm voice, but a grim expression has crawled over his face. His eyebrows knot together and his jaw sets. When he stands up, his whole body is rigid.

  ‘Come on,’ I say, too brightly. ‘Let’s go down to the sports field now and have a kickabout.’

  Nobody is listening.

  I have no choice but to watch as Sergei approaches.

  My body feels hot and cold at the same time and I sit down on the wall again, thinking of all the ways this terrible situation is about to get even worse.

  Sergei’s eyes are trained on mine as he walks towards us, and I look away, hoping Linford hasn’t noticed.

  ‘Yo, Immi.’ Linford assumes a boxer’s stance. ‘You coming back for more, then?’

  Sergei gets closer and then changes direction at the last second.

  ‘Find another way to cross the courtyard, you mug,’ Jack spits. ‘We like breathing fresh, clean air over here.’

  ‘I think that this is a free country,’ Sergei says quietly, but carries on walking without looking at Jack. ‘So I am allowed to walk in any place I choose.’

  Why is it so hard for him to keep his big mouth shut?

  Jack lunges at his rucksack but Sergei shrugs him off and spins round.

  ‘Oh dear, the benefit-scrounger’s got the monk on.’ Harry laughs as Jack stumbles.

  ‘My mother works every day,’ Sergei replies coolly. ‘So you can relax. We are not claiming any of the benefits you worry about so much.’

  ‘She’s taking someone else’s job, you mean,’ Linford says softly and takes a step forward. ‘Someone’s job who was born in this country and has earned the right to work here.’

  At the start of the year, Linford told us his stepdad had been made redundant from his job at the building company where he had worked for over twenty years. Linford said that Eastern Europeans had taken all the building jobs because they were happy to work for peanuts.

  But now Linford is saying all the Eastern Europeans are lazy and claiming benefits. I’m not sure which one is right, but I know it can’t be both. Linford doesn’t really seem to know either, and I suddenly wonder where he’s getting all this information from. He’s like a parrot, blindly repeating stuff that makes no sense to him or anyone else.

  I think about his stepdad’s angry face and how he’d seemed quite drunk when I saw him. Sometimes, I suppose, it’s easier to blame other people for your problems than accept you might be making a mess of your own life.

  Sergei’s eyes dart over to mine but what can I do? I’v
e warned him to stay away from us but he refuses to listen.

  ‘Jack saw you on our estate last night,’ Linford continues. ‘What business you got there, you dirty scrounger? Don’t tell me they’ve given you lot a free council flat now.’

  Sergei looks at the floor.

  ‘You might as well tell us,’ Harry hisses. ‘We’ll find out anyway and then you’ll get a brick through your window.’

  They all snigger, but Sergei doesn’t answer. Instead, he looks directly at me.

  ‘What you always staring at Cal for?’ Jack scowls. ‘You fancy him or summat?’

  He nudges me and grins, inviting me to join in with what Linford has always called our ‘banter’. Except it doesn’t feel like I’m included in the banter today; more like I’m on the receiving end of something more sinister . . . with Sergei.

  Suddenly it doesn’t seem nearly as light-hearted.

  ‘I asked you a question, Immi,’ Linford growls. ‘Have you got a flat on our estate now, or what?’

  Sergei looks at me one final time, his eyes pleading with me to say something, to help him out. He needs me to tell Linford the truth.

  My worst nightmare is here. This is my last chance to make up a lie or a story. Otherwise, the awful truth will come out and there’s nothing I can do about it.

  I open my mouth. And close it again.

  I can’t think of anything I can possibly say that will help the awfulness of Linford’s reaction when he finds out I’ve been lying to him about Sergei and his mum living with us.

  Linford grabs the limp lapels of Sergei’s blazer.

  ‘I am living on St Matthias Road,’ Sergei says, pulling away.

  ‘That’s your road, isn’t it, Cal?’ Jack frowns.

  They all turn to look at me. Something sparks in Linford’s eyes, like he’s finally putting pieces of information together.

  ‘That’s why Immi is always staring at you,’ Linford says slowly. ‘Cos you’re neighbours.’

  ‘Not exactly,’ I mutter. My school shirt is sticking to my damp armpits.

  ‘There’s only one St Matthias Road in St Ann’s.’ Harry frowns. ‘It’s got to be the same one you live on, Cal, so you would’ve seen him. You’re lying, Immi.’

  ‘He’s not my neighbour.’ I say the words quickly before my voices cracks and betrays me.

  My insides are tangled into such a tight mess, it feels like they’ll never straighten back out again.

  ‘So, Immi is lying through his teeth then.’ Linford moves fast and within a couple of seconds, he has Sergei by his scrawny neck and his right fist snaps back ready to strike. ‘Last chance. Where do you live, you stinking little—’

  ‘Wait!’ I jump up. ‘He’s not lying.’

  Linford’s grip loosens slightly, enough for Sergei to take in a few gulps of air.

  Four pairs of eyes are trained on me. Waiting for the truth.

  Waiting for me to tell them what I know.

  A pulsing starts up in my throat as if my heart has broken loose and has slid up from my chest.

  I try my best to swallow the words back, but in the end I have no choice but to face whatever is coming. I’m just going to have to say it.

  ‘It’s our flat,’ I say, and slump back down to sit on the wall. ‘Sergei lives with us.’

  Linford spins round to face me and I swallow, hard.

  ‘I hope I just heard you wrong, Cal.’

  Beads of moisture glisten on his forehead and the sharp smell of stale sweat wafts under my nose as he moves closer.

  Behind him, Sergei slips away while he still has the chance. The traitor.

  ‘You’d better explain what you mean by that.’ Linford’s voice comes out dangerously low. ‘Are you serious? . . . Sergei Zurakowski lives with you?’

  For a second or two, I can’t speak.

  A look passes between Jack and Harry and they step lightly away from Linford’s side, the way they always do when he is about to hurt someone.

  ‘The visitors that came over to ours the other night, it was them,’ I babble. ‘Sergei and his mum.’

  ‘Oh man,’ Harry groans, and presses the heel of his hand to his forehead.

  ‘I didn’t know.’ My voice slides up an octave. ‘I swear, Linford, I didn’t know who the visitors were until I saw Sergei in our flat. It’s my dad, you see, he—’

  ‘And he never said a word,’ Linford drawls slowly, turning to the others. ‘Cal’s lied through his teeth to us. Traded us in for a dirty incomer, lads.’

  Jack shakes his head at me in disgust.

  ‘No . . . it’s my dad, he’s been dating Sergei’s mum but I didn’t know until the other night,’ I try to explain clumsily. ‘There was nothing I could do by then. I mean, tell me, what could I do about it?’

  ‘You could’ve told us.’ Harry stares at me. ‘That would’ve been a start.’

  ‘I was going to, honest. But Linford’s been a bit –’ I reach for a word – ‘I don’t know, weird. I was trying to find a good time to tell you all, I swear.’

  Linford narrows his eyes.

  ‘Calling me a weirdo now, are you?’

  ‘No! But why does everything always have to be about you?’ A channel of heat shoots up and into my head. I’m so sick of always treading on eggshells around Linford, I might as well just say it. I stand up. ‘We always have to do what you like, what you say, and only talk to the people you say it’s OK to talk to. It sucks.’

  ‘You better take that back while you’ve still got the chance you stupid dumb—’

  ‘We’re like his puppets, all of us, right?’ I spin round to Jack and Harry. They look away but I can’t stop. ‘He hates anyone who’s different to him. Know what I think?’ I turn back to Linford, my chest tight and burning. ‘I think you’re scared.’

  Linford throws back his head and laughs. But it sounds put on, like he’s acting out a stage direction.

  ‘You think I’m scared?’ His voice is dangerously quiet but I have to get this feeling out – it’s a tightness that’s been stuck inside me for ages.

  ‘Yeah, I think you’re scared. Scared of stuff that’s nothing to do with school, or with the people you bully. Stuff you deal with at home that nobody else sees.’

  ‘Cal . . .’ Jack takes a step forward. ‘It’s just a bit of banter. Leave it.’

  ‘It’s not, though, is it?’ I snap at him. ‘We call it banter, but everyone else calls it bullying.’

  ‘Quiet,’ Linford growls. ‘I want to hear from Cal what it is I’m so scared of.’

  ‘I don’t know exactly what you’re scared of, Linford. I don’t think you know, either.’ Part of me knows I’ve gone too far to ever come back, and part of me feels free, like I can do or say what I want for the first time in years. ‘Maybe you’re scared of losing your grip here at school, scared of looking weak? All I know is, you open your mouth and your stepdad’s voice and opinions fall out. You’ve turned into his mouthpiece.’

  Jack loudly sucks in air through his teeth and steps back.

  ‘You’re dead.’ Linford’s face drains of colour but his eyes burn. ‘You’re a dead man.’

  His hand clenches into a fist that’s so tight I can see the bone straining through the skin on his knuckles.

  And then I realize my own fists are clenched too. It feels weird, but for the first time in a long time, I feel like me again, that I’m not just Linford’s puppet.

  For a second, our eyes lock and I see a blip of shock flit through him.

  He bites down on his back teeth and screws up his face. His fist moves back and I get ready for the blow. This is it. The end of our friendship.

  The force of the blow and the crack of my jaw surprises me, sends me careering back into the wall. As I hit it, my automatic reaction is to push back and spring forward again. There’s a bolt of fire channelling down my arm and I’m almost not aware my own fist is flying forward until it hits Linford squarely on the nose.

  My heart feels like it’s about to explode out
of my chest wall and the sounds around me seem like muffled echoes in my ears. Other students are running over to catch the show and I hear whoops of amazement. My eyes refocus and I see that Linford is bent over, blood pouring from his nose.

  Both Jack and Harry are looking at me like they never saw me before, their jaws hanging open.

  ‘OK, break it up here,’ a stern voice booms. ‘Linford Gordon, first aid, and then my office. Now.’ Mr Fox hands him a handkerchief.

  Jack and Harry both scatter. Sergei stands in front of me with Mr Fox.

  ‘You all right, Calum?’ Mr Fox tips his head to one side, studying me sternly.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ I say, dusting down my trousers and moving my throbbing jaw from side to side. ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘If Sergei here hadn’t dragged me over, I’d have said you were in line for one of Mr Gordon’s trademark beatings. The ones you usually enjoy watching others suffer from the sidelines. But I saw him attack you first and it seems you’ve held your own on this occasion. How’s the jaw?’

  I wiggle my chin side to side. ‘It’s fine, sir.’

  ‘Then I’ll speak to you in the morning, before first lesson, please.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Despite being ordered to the Head’s office, Linford is still loitering behind Mr Fox, the handkerchief pressed to his nose and his dark eyes trained on to mine like he wants another go.

  ‘It’s not so good, is it, Calum, being on the other side? You’re normally one of Linford’s eager spectators.’

  ‘Not any more, sir,’ I say, and I mean it. I’m making my own decisions from now on. Thinking my own thoughts.

  I don’t see Linford for the rest of the day and there is no sign of Jack or Harry either down at the gates at the end of school.

  I can’t face going straight home today so I decide to take a detour to the Arboretum. I fold up my blazer, pull off my tie and stuff them into my rucksack.

  I hope that now they’ve had time to think, the others can see I had no control over Sergei coming to live with us. I didn’t lie to them, they have to see that.

  It’s about a fifteen-minute walk to get to the park and I keep looking over my shoulder, just in case Linford is out for revenge.