“I’ve got to get these chips to my dad first. We’re in that block behind the shops.”
“Yeah, sure. We’ll see you here in ten,” and Shona saw him wink at Gazz.
In a way, Shona felt kind of proud that she had done what needed to be done to get this phone. Others might have given up. After all, she had met up with these older boys when, I bet, she thought, people like Serena wouldn’t have. But then, wasn’t it like what Nan said, you have to take risks if you want to survive? OK, this wasn’t about surviving, more about having something that she really, really had to have, but it was like surviving.
Tino and Gazz stopped in doorway of the old block of flats by the garage and pressed a button.
“Delivery?” a voice said through the little speaker.
“Delivery,” Tino answered.
Delivery? thought Shona. We’re not delivering anything. As the security door clicked open, she looked at Tino with a puzzled look.
“Yeah,” said Tino, “it’s a joke thing we do. Like I’m the delivery guy.”
“Yeah,” said Gazz, “we always do that,” and he laughed.
Upstairs, there was another security door outside the ordinary door and Shona could hear a dog.
Gazz put his fingers in his mouth and whistled. The dog stopped. Then, the inner door opened, followed by a heavy, barred security door and they went in. A thick, musky smell caught her throat, and she noticed that the walls had once been made to look cool, in the way nightclubs look on TV, but the place was dirty and now there was a hole in the ceiling.
Tino and Gazz were more up on their toes than before, and Shona could hear them both breathing faster and louder.
They went down an unlit passage to a sitting room, and she could see that there were four more boys and a man sitting in a chair that was too big for him. He was tanned and his teeth showed up against his neatly trimmed beard.
They all touched fists and nodded, while Tino namechecked Shona to Pops, and Pops back to Shona.
Pops smiled, smoothing down his trousers as he spoke. His shirt’s too tight, Shona thought, it’s like his belly is trying to escape. “Thank you so much for helping out with that package the other day. We’re all in so much of a hurry these days, aren’t we?”
He seems to speak in a posher way than people round here, Shona thought, looking at his shiny shirt rather than straight into his face.
This seemed to cause a bit of a laugh, which Shona didn’t understand, and for what was really the first time in this whole endless business of trying to get the phone, she felt now that maybe it wasn’t worth it. This was a totally creepy sort of a place and she shouldn’t be here. She made a move as if to step back, but it was spotted straight away by Pops.
“No, no, no, young lady, take no notice of them. Boys, eh?” He pulled a face to say they were all dumb and she and him knew that, even if they didn’t know it themselves. He pushed a bowl of chocolates towards her.
“These are nice,” he said, “believe me.”
Shona took one. He was right. It was more than nice.
“Look, we can sort this contract out, right now. All I need from you is your signature,” he said.
While she put her name on a piece of paper which she didn’t read (and even if she had, was pretty certain that she wouldn’t understand), Pops said in a quiet voice, in a casual, throwaway tone, “Anyone else who hasn’t got a phone amongst your mates?”
He reached forward to the glass table in front of him and served himself an olive.
“No,” said Shona, “no, they’ve all got phones. Oh no, hang on … maybe Serena. I haven’t seen her with one…”
“Ah,” he said, glancing at Tino. “Look, I can’t promise her a freebie like yours – you did us a big favour the other day, that’s why yours comes for nothing – but this Selina, if you could see to it, that you find out if she needs a phone, I’ll see what I can do.”
“Coming over,” shouted Tino, and he threw the phone towards Shona.
For a moment it was like a drone, its black metal and glass reflecting back the light as it flew through the air. She wasn’t ready for it and was sure that she’d clutch at it and miss – but no! Her hands were in the right place at the right time and she caught it.
A tiny wave of appreciation flowed towards her, but she didn’t acknowledge it.
“Hey, Tino,” said Pops, “she’s good.” He turned back to Shona and, seeing her unease and itchiness to get away, said, “No need to hang about here with us lot. Who would, eh? But Tino will be in touch about your mate Selina.”
“It’s Serena,” Shona said.
“You are very good. You’re on it.”
Yes, I am, thought Shona. I am right on it. I’ve got a phone that’s cost me nothing, and I’ve got a connection that’s cost me nothing too.
“Gazz!” Pops flicked his fingers, and that seemed to be a command for Gazz to see Shona out.
It’s like they obey orders from this Pops, Shona thought as she walked back through the street, tapping on her phone with her thumb like someone with a twitch in her hand.
CLASS X10 READING COMPREHENSION
He had scarcely washed himself, and made everything tidy, by emptying the basin out of the window, agreeably to the Jew’s directions, when the Dodger returned, accompanied by a very sprightly young friend, whom Oliver had seen smoking on the previous night, and who was now formally introduced to him as Charley Bates. The four sat down, to breakfast, on the coffee, and some hot rolls and ham which the Dodger had brought home in the crown of his hat.
“Well,” said the Jew, glancing slyly at Oliver, and addressing himself to the Dodger, “I hope you’ve been at work this morning, my dears?”
“Hard,” replied the Dodger.
“As nails,” added Charley Bates.
“Good boys, good boys!” said the Jew. “What have you got, Dodger?”
“A couple of pocketbooks,” replied that young gentleman.
“Lined?” inquired the Jew, with eagerness.
“Pretty well,” replied the Dodger, producing two pocketbooks; one green, and the other red.
“Not so heavy as they might be,” said the Jew, after looking at the insides carefully; “but very neat and nicely made. Ingenious workman, ain’t he, Oliver?”
“Very indeed, sir,” said Oliver. At which Bates laughed uproariously; very much to the amazement of Oliver, who saw nothing to laugh at, in anything that had passed.
“And what have you got, my dear?” said Fagin to Bates.
“Wipes,” he replied; at the same time producing four pocket handkerchiefs.
“Well,” said the Jew, inspecting them closely; “they’re very good ones, very. You haven’t marked them well, though, Charley; so the marks shall be picked out with a needle, and we’ll teach Oliver how to do it. Shall us, Oliver, eh? Ha! ha! ha!”
“If you please, sir,” said Oliver.
“You’d like to be able to make pocket handkerchiefs as easy as Charley Bates, wouldn’t you, my dear?” said the Jew.
“Very much, indeed, if you’ll teach me, sir,” replied Oliver.
Bates saw something so exquisitely ludicrous in this reply that he burst into another laugh; which laugh, meeting the coffee he was drinking, and carrying it down some wrong channel, very nearly suffocated him.
“He is so jolly green!” said Charley when he recovered, as an apology to the company for his unpolite behaviour.
The Dodger said nothing, but he smoothed Oliver’s hair over his eyes, and said he’d know better, by and by; upon which the old gentleman, observing Oliver’s colour mounting, changed the subject by asking whether there had been much of a crowd at the execution that morning? This made him wonder more and more; for it was plain from the replies of the two boys that they had both been there; and Oliver naturally wondered how they could possibly have found time to be so very industrious.
When the breakfast was cleared away; the merry old gentleman and the two boys played at a very curious and
uncommon game, which was performed in this way. The merry old gentleman, placing a snuffbox in one pocket of his trousers, a notecase in the other, and a watch in his waistcoat pocket, with a guard chain round his neck, and sticking a mock diamond pin in his shirt: buttoned his coat tight round him, and putting his spectacle case and handkerchief in his pockets, trotted up and down the room with a stick, in imitation of the manner in which old gentlemen walk about the streets any hour in the day. Sometimes he stopped at the fireplace, and sometimes at the door, making believe that he was staring with all his might into shop windows. At such times, he would look constantly round him, for fear of thieves, and would keep slapping all his pockets in turn, to see that he hadn’t lost anything, in such a very funny and natural manner, that Oliver laughed till the tears ran down his face. All this time, the two boys followed him closely about: getting out of his sight, so nimbly, every time he turned round, that it was impossible to follow their motions. At last, the Dodger trod upon his toes, or ran upon his boot accidentally, while Charley Bates stumbled up against him behind; and in that one moment they took from him, with the most extraordinary rapidity, snuffbox, notecase, watch guard, chain, shirt pin, pocket handkerchief, even the spectacle case. If the old gentleman felt a hand in any one of his pockets, he cried out where it was; and then the game began all over again.
When this game had been played a great many times, a couple of young ladies called to see the young gentleman; one of whom was named Bet, and the other Nancy. They wore a good deal of hair, not very neatly turned up behind, and were rather untidy about the shoes and stockings. They were not exactly pretty, perhaps; but they had a great deal of colour in their faces, and looked quite stout and hearty. Being remarkably free and agreeable in their manners, Oliver thought them very nice girls indeed. As there is no doubt they were.
The visitors stopped a long time. Spirits were produced, in consequence of one of the young ladies complaining of a coldness in her inside; and the conversation took a very convivial and improving turn. At length, Charley Bates expressed his opinion that it was time to pad the hoof. This, it occurred to Oliver, must be French for going out; for directly afterwards, the Dodger, and Charley, and the two young ladies, went away together, having been kindly furnished by the amiable old Jew with money to spend.
“There, my dear,” said Fagin. “That’s a pleasant life, isn’t it? They have gone out for the day.”
“Have they done work, sir?” inquired Oliver.
“Yes,” said the Jew; “that is, unless they should unexpectedly come across any, when they are out; and they won’t neglect it, if they do, my dear, depend upon it. Make ’em your models, my dear. Make ’em your models,” tapping the fire shovel on the hearth to add force to his words; “do everything they bid you, and take their advice in all matters – especially the Dodger’s, my dear. He’ll be a great man himself, and will make you one too, if you take pattern by him. Is my handkerchief hanging out of my pocket, my dear?” said the Jew, stopping short.
“Yes, sir,” said Oliver.
“See if you can take it out, without my feeling it; as you saw them do, when we were at play this morning.”
Oliver held up the bottom of the pocket with one hand, as he had seen the Dodger hold it, and drew the handkerchief lightly out of it with the other.
“Is it gone?” cried the Jew.
“Here it is, sir,” said Oliver, showing it in his hand.
“You’re a clever boy, my dear,” said the playful old gentleman, patting Oliver on the head approvingly. “I never saw a sharper lad. Here’s a shilling for you. If you go on, in this way, you’ll be the greatest man of the time. And now come here, and I’ll show you how to take the marks out of the handkerchiefs.”
Chapter 11
By now, Shona had worked out that the place to be at break and lunchtimes was “The Wall”. Yeah, most boys went off to a place lower down where they ran about like dogs chasing a ball, but now she knew everyone and everyone knew her, The Wall was best. Some sat on it, others leaned against it; they weren’t allowed to walk on the top of it, in case they fell off it and died instantly, but sitting was OK. Shona stood talking to Désol’é about how she had once had fried chicken from the place on the Broadway and it tasted like sick, but all the time she was talking she was checking out Serena.
Serena, Serena, Serena.
It felt like Serena was a target and Shona was throwing a dart at it. Shona had run through in her mind how it was going to work: she’d be next to Serena, she’d get out her phone, read a message, laugh, and then reply to it. She’d put it back in her pocket and say, “Hey, I haven’t got your number.” Then, the idea was, Serena would say, “I haven’t got a phone”; Shona would say, “I can get you one”; and that would sort it.
Désol’é had moved on to talking about science homework and whether the next test was going to be about climate or not. At the same time, Shona strained to catch what Serena was saying in her place by The Wall as she chatted to Rasheda. Was she talking about the climate homework too?
Désol’é was asking her something.
“Yeah,” said Shona, not really sure what she was saying yes to… Just then, Shona noticed something. Serena’s jacket was torn. There was a tear at the back, down on one side. Not a big tear, just a little “L” of a tear. Did Serena know? If she did know, then why was she wearing the jacket?
Something about this tear triggered off a chain of thoughts in Shona’s mind, to do with the jacket, and money to buy jackets, and money to buy phones, money to pay for using phones, and how it seemed so weird that she – and maybe Serena, maybe others – scraped around for money to pay for things, and others – like Harry and Sunil – seemed to have whatever they wanted. “Is it two hydrogen atoms and one oxygen atom, or the other way round? I can’t remember which one the ‘two’ is about!”
Why did Désol’é think that Shona would know? Why was she asking her? Or was Désol’é doing it to help her? Just pretending she needed help, so that Shona would try to remember the science for the test. If so, that was kind.
“I think the hydrogen is two and the oxygen is one,” Shona said, more guessing than remembering, and thinking of Serena the target, hit with a dart. Why am I doing this? Just because they got me a phone doesn’t mean that I have to hook Serena into this. But then, but then, thinking of “hooking” and being “hooked”, she thought, Why am I hooked? Her mind flashed back to that D8 when all it was about was this boy giving her a phone, which was great, but now it was all about getting Serena hooked in, and she was doing a favour for that Pops guy sitting in his flat with those boys, like Gazz and the rest, doing little sly laughs.
She felt the phone in her pocket. It was so great to have it. Maybe Serena would think like that … longing to have a phone just like she had, and then feeling so great to have one.
But still there was that nagging thing going on in her mind about these boys and the Pops guy. I mean, I get a phone just because I did them that favour with the package from the shop? Really? Maybe there’s something else going on and I’m not getting it.
I’m not getting it. Her mind finally came to a stop on: I’m not getting it. I’m not getting it. Désol’é was asking her about evaporation. She was being kind. She could see it in her face. Désol’é was getting her to revise right there by The Wall.
“Do you get it?” Désol’é asked.
“No, not really,” Shona said and Désol’é took it to mean that Shona hadn’t got how evaporation causes cooling, but Shona was somewhere else.
Désol’é tried to explain once again how a surface that water evaporates FROM, is what cools, yeah, and Shona gripped her phone and said to herself that until she did get what Tino, Gazz, Pops and the others were all doing, then she wouldn’t and shouldn’t get Serena in on this too.
And then, even as she made up her mind, and even as she gripped her phone, she had the thought that if she didn’t “deliver” Serena, then couldn’t Pops decide to not pay for the conn
ection? Yes, he could, she answered herself, he can do what he wants, him in his little beard, and his belly fighting to get out of his shirt, and his “Have a chocolate, young lady” or whatever. “Go on, then,” Désol’é said.
“Evaporation causes cooling,” Shona blurted, summoning the words up from somewhere they must have stuck, without knowing they had, “and that means the surface that … er … the water evaporates FROM…”
“Go on…”
“Cools?” said Shona; her voice made a question mark in the air.
“YES!” shouted Désol’é, demanding high fives from Shona.
The bell went, and Désol’é thought, and high fives to me for doing exactly what Miss Cavani asked me to do for Shona.
CLASS X10 READING COMPREHENSION
At length, one morning, Oliver obtained the permission he had so eagerly sought. There had been no handkerchiefs to work upon, for two or three days, and the dinners had been rather meagre. Perhaps these were reasons for the old gentleman’s giving his assent; but he told Oliver he might go, and placed him under the joint guardianship of Charley Bates and his friend the Dodger.
The three boys sallied out; the Dodger with his coat sleeves tucked up, and his hat cocked, as usual; Bates sauntering along with his hands in his pockets; and Oliver between them, wondering where they were going, and what kind of manufacture he would be instructed in first.
The pace at which they went was such a very lazy, ill-looking saunter that Oliver soon began to think his companions were going to deceive the old gentleman, by not going to work at all. The Dodger had a vicious tendency, too, of pulling the caps from the heads of small boys and tossing them down; while Charley Bates exhibited some very loose notions concerning the rights of property, by stealing apples and onions from the stalls at the kennel sides and thrusting them into pockets which were so surprisingly capacious that they seemed to undermine his whole suit of clothes in every direction. These things looked so bad that Oliver was on the point of declaring his intention of seeking his way back, in the best way he could; when his thoughts were suddenly directed into another channel, by a very mysterious change of behaviour on the part of the Dodger.
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