Why isn’t it the weekend yet? I don’t want to go to school, but it’s only Thursday. I’m sure Spicer will make me do the detention I skipped and that means I won’t be able to go and see Samir straight after school. I’m desperate to tell him all about Mohammed and RROK and the lawyer, but it’ll be difficult to talk in the hospital. Will he be angry?
At least I’m running. It’s nearly eight and the morning light is spreading all silvery over the sea. I’ve done my paper route and I’m jogging across the soft sand around the yacht club and my legs are sinking in, my calf muscles aching like mad because they’re so out of practice. I’ve got to get back into training before the marathon coach kicks me off the squad. Trudy is running beside me, her ears flopping back and forth, her big pink tongue hanging out of her mouth. She started to yelp with joy as soon as we set off from the cottage. It’s ages since we’ve had a good run.
Around the point, the beach is very narrow and more pebbly but I try to keep my pace up as I head toward the Lifeboat Station. It still feels weird to think of our hut empty, and I had to stop myself from filling the hot-water bottle for Mohammed this morning when I got up. It makes me feel all shivery when I think how close he came to being discovered. How close we all came. Mrs. Saddler definitely had her suspicions but it was all over before she could really nose around. She seems to think I’ve been up to something good, not bad, at least. Unlike Mum and Dad.
Will Dad show up for bowling on Saturday morning? Not if the Gremlin has anything to do with it! That thought makes me feel so mad, I sprint all the way home.
When I get in there’s an amazing smell of frying coming from the kitchen. I rush upstairs, change for school, scoot back down to the kitchen and Mum puts a plate of bacon, egg, beans, fried bread, toast and tea in front of me. She’s even balancing on her crutches like a circus act.
“Leave the stuff in the sink,” I say through a mouthful of toast. “I’ll clean up when I get home.”
“No you won’t,” she says, and she’s got a dishcloth in her hand. “Time I pulled my weight around here.”
So she really means it, I think as I collect my backpack and saunter off down to the bus stop, early for once.
School is the pits. Everyone is talking about the stabbing and what Samir must have done to wind Terrence Bellows up.
“I heard he nicked Terrence’s skunk,” Charlie Parks is saying as I walk into class.
“Two Percent hasn’t got it in him,” sneers Lindy, and the Jayne family all laugh.
“So is he dead?” says Jess in a bored voice.
“My dad says they’re all scroungers,” sneers Charlie. “He’s probably faking it, so he gets the rest of the week off school.”
I feel myself getting really angry and I look around the class for Kim. But then I remember she and Steven have orchestra practice all morning. I turn back to Jess and the others and I’m about to speak when Mr. Spicer comes in and yells at us to sit down.
He spots me and says, “You missed your detention, Alix. You’ll do an hour tonight. Ring your mother to say you’ll be late.” Hoots of laughter whip around the classroom. Doesn’t anyone care about what has happened?
Then he says something about the principal calling a parents’ meeting after school next week about the stabbing. “You’ll get letters on Monday and I want you all there.”
No way, I think, no one seems to care about Samir, so why should I go?
I manage to snatch five minutes with Kim at lunchtime and then she has to go off to a dental appointment. The afternoon really drags by and then I have to meet Spicer back in the form room for detention.
He looks up when I come in, “Any news of Samir?”
“I don’t know, sir,” I say. “But I’m going around to the hospital later.” I don’t know if I’ll be allowed to see him but maybe Spicer will let me off early.
“Good, give him my regards,” says Spicer, “you’ve got an hour. Do the next twenty questions.”
Weasel!
I don’t escape until five and I race across town to the hospital. But they won’t let me onto the ward.
“Samir banged his head when he fell,” explains the nurse. “He’s not up to visitors.”
“What about the stab wound?” I ask anxiously.
“It was quite deep but there’s no damage to the organs. Come back after the weekend, dear.”
How can I wait that long?
Then my phone goes. It’s Pritesh.
“No cell phones,” says the nurse, and I run downstairs and just get outside before the phone stops ringing.
“What’s happened? Where’s Mohammed?” I ask, panting. “Don’t worry, everything’s fine,” says Pritesh. “The lawyer has been in touch with the Home Office and it’s been agreed that Mohammed can apply for asylum. So he won’t be deported, at least not for now.”
I’m shaking with relief and I tell him we’ll come and see Mohammed as soon as Samir’s better.
All I want to do is rush back into the hospital and tell Samir, but I’ll never get past the nurses. In the end I tear a page out of my math book and write Samir a note.
EVERYONE is safe. Get better soon. Alix x
The nurse promises to give it to Samir but all the way home I’m worrying about that x. What if Naazim sees it? Are Muslims allowed to write x?
Friday goes by in a blur of math tests and worrying about Samir. But finally it’s Saturday morning and Dad and I are at the bowling alley.
He’s doing his best, saying, “Pull up your pants, Alix” and “How about a cookie, doll?” but things just feel weird.
It’s been two years since we did stuff together. One seventh of my entire life.
And then I get a strike.
“Way to go, doll,” yells Dad, and we do a high five and things feel a bit more normal.
So I say, “Does the . . .” and I’m about to say Gremlin but manage to stop just in time, “. . . er, Gloria, does she know where you are?”
“Sure,” says Dad with this glittery smile but I don’t believe him.
“Mum says she doesn’t like kids. Is that why you didn’t stay in touch?”
Dad’s quiet for a minute and there’s the bumping sound of the bowling balls rolling back down the tunnel and some little kid whining for sweets.
Then he says, “We talked about it and Gloria felt that if I kept in touch it would be harder for you. All that coming and going. So we agreed I would make a clean break. Your mum didn’t want me to keep in touch either.”
They’re all as bad as each other, I decide.
“But Gloria really wants to meet you,” he goes on in this sort of eager voice. “She’s great, Gloria, she manages a little boutique in Southampton, knows all the latest fashions,” and he’s looking at me hopefully.
“Yeah, right,” I say in a scornful voice, and I can tell he’s disappointed even though I avoid his eyes. I turn away and roll my ball straight down the gutter.
Our game is over so we get some burgers and eat in silence and I’m thinking, He’s sorry he came back. He thinks I’m just a worthless teenager, with a bad attitude. He’s probably relieved he doesn’t have to introduce the Daughter from Hell to his girlfriend. I glance up at him but his eyes are on his cell phone, tapping out a message. He can’t wait to get back to her, I decide. I’m not going bowling ever again.
Then he says, “I lost my job yesterday.”
Here we go, I think, and I push my chair back. Might as well leave now before he gives out all the usual excuses.
But he reaches up and grabs my arm and says quickly, “No, wait, Alix. Hear me out, please.”
So I slump back down in the chair and say sullenly, “You’ve got one minute.” I start to tear up the greasy burger box into little pieces, flicking them off the table as I go. The floor’s getting in a right mess but I don’t care.
“It was all my fault,” he says quietly.
“You what?” I wasn’t expecting that. He usually blames someone else when he loses his job. I stop tearing up the burger box.
“I was late three times on deliveries because I didn’t use the GPS properly,” he explains. I’m looking at him and his face is very close to mine. He has this sort of serious, intense look I’ve never seen before.
“But I’m going to get another job straightaway, Alix, and you know why?”
I shake my head and we’re so close my hair flicks over his forehead but he doesn’t move away.
“Because of you.”
“What do you mean?”
And we’re sort of whispering as if we’re afraid to talk too loud in case this moment just disappears.
“Because you need things for school, and outings to the bowling alley with me and American DVDs to keep up your vocabulary.”
He stops and I’m staring right into his eyes, which are brown like mine, and he’s not even blinking, like Kim does when she wants to mesmerize. I want us to stay like this forever. Because he’s chosen me. Not Mum and definitely not Gloria, his girlfriend, the Gremlin. He’s chosen to get a new job because of me!
He wants to go bowling with me and buy me stuff like other dads and it feels like there’s a hopeful little frog jumping about inside me.
I can’t help grinning and then he tilts his head forward and kisses me on the cheek. That feels good.
Let’s hope he means what he says for once.