Mum wants me to stay home today. She knows that school’s closed for teacher training.
“We could have a nice quiet day together, order a takeout for lunch.”
“I can’t,” I say, trying not to notice the disappointment in her face. “I’m meeting up with Kim and Samir in the library. We’ve got course work to do and I need some of their notes.”
“They could come here,” says Mum, brightening up at the thought. “We’ve got plenty of food for lunch.”
But I can’t, can I? Just as things sort out at home it’s all kicking up outside. I can’t remember the last time I had an ordinary day, washing my hair and downloading music onto my MP3 player. It’s only been five days since we hid Mohammed but it feels more like five years. How much longer can we keep our big secret?
Steven has arranged a meeting at the burger bar in town with some refugee rights group, and Samir wants me there so that we can decide if it’s safe to take them to meet Mohammed.
We can’t fail him now, can we?
So I take a leaf out of Mum’s book and say, “I’ve gotten behind, what with the broken leg and everything. We’ve got exams at the end of term and I’ve got to get good marks. Kim and Samir are going to help me catch up.”
Well, if she can blackmail Dad then I can tell a lie. It’s all for a good cause, isn’t it? So Mum finally agrees to let me go and then I have to squeeze out the door without Trudy, who’s jumping up at me in a total canine frenzy. “I’ll make it up to you, my angel, I promise,” I cry out as I pull the front door shut.
My phone rings as I wait for the bus. It’s Kim. “It’s my turn next,” she breathes.
Oh my God, her clarinet audition, I’d forgotten, what kind of a best friend am I? “You’ll be fine, deep breaths. I’ll see you at the burger bar.”
“Okay,” and she clicks off.
As the bus rolls forward over Langstone Bridge the water is flat calm after last night’s storm. Just like before a tsunami. Grandpa said you only know the big wave is coming if all the water sucks out from the beach way out to sea. That’s the warning it’s building up to a humongous wave, which will cover everything. It feels like our storm is gathering, with the police nosing around and Lindy at the hideout and Terrence down on the Island. If the refugee people can’t save Mohammed, then we could be completely engulfed.
If I’m honest, it isn’t my life I’m worried about. The ones who would really have to ride out the big wave would be Mohammed. And Samir, Naazim and Auntie Selma.
What could Kim or me or Steven do to save them? They might go to prison here or they might even be deported back to Iraq to torture, prison or even death.
As we pull up to the bus stop I see Liam, Lindy’s boyfriend, wander past with his long, greasy hair falling over his face. But no sign of Lindy. I’m pretty certain she’s just playing a game with us. Eventually she’ll give us away either to Terrence or the police. When it suits her. She’s probably told Liam all about it by now as well.
Time’s running out. So many people are either in on this or beginning to put two and two together. How long before someone gives us away to the police?
And what about Mrs. Saddler? She’s nosing around more and more, turning up at the cottage and winding Mum up about where I am and what I’m up to. Not surprising really as she’s always charging around the beaches with Jeremy, who can hardly keep up with her on his dinky dachshund legs. I’m amazed she hasn’t turned up at the hut, booming at Mohammed to get dressed and get out of here, smartish young man!
I have to clear my head so I sprint to the burger bar. Steven and Kim are already there when I arrive panting—I’m so out of condition—and they’re holding hands under the table. Kim’s face is quite flushed but that could just be from the pressure of the audition.
As soon as I sit down she launches into this massive and detailed description, “. . . I just managed to do the chromatics when my reed split and I had to change it and my hands were trembling so much I dropped the reed packet and that cow of a conductor tutted! Can you believe that? Actually tutted at me! I nearly died. How mean can you get?”
All I can do is nod and smile and try to follow, not having a clue what chromatics or any of this stuff means. Even Steven’s eyes are beginning to glaze over and he decides to get the cappuccinos. That gives me a chance to leap on Kim.
“So come on, spill,” I interrupt before she launches into a full-blown description of the life of Mozart. “You and Steven, getting quite close?”
That stops her. Kim looks at me with her hazel-green eyes, unblinking, and then she says in this breathy voice, “He’s amazing. He gave me this for luck today.” She pulls out a silver chain with a locket from under her sweater. “Look inside,” and she opens it. There’s a tiny bar of black music notes drawn beautifully on a piece of creamy card.
“Wow,” I say. Will anyone ever love me, I think, with a pang of jealousy? But when do I have time for love right now?
Steven comes back with the coffees. He sits down and looks impatiently at his watch. “They should have been here twenty minutes ago.”
“Which group did you get hold of?” I mumble through a mouthful of foam.
“RROK, RefugeeRightsOK. They’ve said they can help Mohammed to get justice and hopefully the right to stay in Britain. They have lawyers who specialize in refugees. I spent ages on the phone to them yesterday. Mum reckons they’re the best on the south coast. I told her it was research for Citizenship.”
“Good one.” I nod and then I see Lindy outside in the square and coming toward her, spread out in a line, are Terrence and two of his gang, including blond Gaz from the beach. Now what?
Lindy shoots a glance across at us and there’s something in her look that makes me put my cup down. She nods toward the far corner of the square and to my horror I see Samir. His head is down and his hood up so he hasn’t noticed the gang. Yet.
“Come on,” I say, springing to my feet.
“No, Ali,” says Kim, grabbing my arm. “It’s not safe.”
But I shrug her off. “I’m not leaving Samir on his own with Terrence ever again.”
But really I’m terrified and I’m secretly hoping Liam will turn up. I mean, he’s twenty, so much older than Terrence, surely he’d get rid of him and his gang.
But as I go outside the burger bar there’s no sign of Liam, just Terrence and that horrible Gaz and another smaller boy who looks just as mean. Samir has reached me now and I hear Steven and Kim coming up behind. Lindy has stopped and because it’s only midmorning on a Wednesday there’s hardly anyone else around.
“Oy! Paki!” yells out Terrence, and we freeze. “Got ya now, ain’t we!” What does he mean?
“Tell him what ya done, mate.” Gaz laughs and he sounds so evil.
“Phoned the police about your Taliban friend. Didn’t ya hear the sirens? They’ll rip that hut apart and chuck him back in the sea!” roars Terrence.
The whole gang starts to laugh and push each other around and jump up and down with their arms hanging low, like apes.
I can’t believe it! They’ve given Mohammed away, betrayed him to the police, and that means we’re all in deep trouble.
But there’s no time to think straight because Samir sweeps the hood from his head and screams at Terrence, “You bastard, I’ll kill you!” and before I can do anything he launches himself at Terrence, fist and feet flying and they both tip over to the ground. For a few seconds Terrence is under Samir and I even think that Samir is going to win. And then there is a terrible groan. Just that. One big groan.
Samir goes limp and Terrence swats him away like a fly and yells to his gang, “Run!”
The gang are gone in a second. There’s blood everywhere.
All over Samir’s hands and sweatshirt and the pavement. His face is white as sea mist, his eyes shut. He’s dead, I think, numbly. Like all the people on Auntie Selma’s wall.
No, he can’t be!
The blood is making me feel sick just like back at the hut, and my mind whirls with images and words all jumbling up together.
Already people are gathering and I can hear sirens blaring. Tears are pouring down my face and I’m whispering, “Don’t die, don’t die.”
Then Samir’s eyes flicker open and I cry out in relief. His lips move slowly and then he croaks, “Go to the hut. Save him.” And his eyes close again.
“He’s alive! Where’s the ambulance?” I yell to Kim.
But Kim is speaking to me and she’s telling me to go to Mohammed. I can’t take it in at first but she keeps saying over and over in a low voice, “I’ll stay with Samir, don’t worry, Ali, you must go.”
And I know she’s right. Then I’m running toward the bus station. I can hear someone running behind me but I don’t look back. In my pocket is Dad’s twenty-pound note. There’s no time for a bus and I see a minicab, wrench open the door and yell, “Sandy Point, as quick as you can!”
But as I throw myself into the backseat the other door opens and someone else gets in.
It’s Lindy!