Liz is all like, ‘He keeps staring at you!’
And Shawna says,
‘Doesn’t he wash his hair?’
I take a bite from my limp pizza
and say, ‘I’m doing time with him
down the park.
He said he used to ride a pony or a horse or something back home.
He’s funny.’
‘You mean he actually is a pikey?’ Meg says.
‘I never said that.’
‘Yeah … he’s probably one of them Roma ones.’
‘Maybe. So what?’
‘So what? So brilliant.’
One side of Meg’s mouth twists into a smile and
I know then
I should’ve kept schtum.
Information like that is jackpot gold
to a bitch like her.
‘Oi, gypsy boy! Oi, gypsy boy!
When you gonna show us your donkey kong?’
Meg shouts across the canteen.
Nicu doesn’t look up.
Just keeps chewing on a roll,
gazing out the window.
But Dan and his gobby mates have heard,
sidle over.
‘What’s happening?’ Dan asks.
Meg cups her hand around Dan’s ear
then puts her lips to it,
whispering,
whispering,
thinking she’s so hot and mysterious.
And I know what comes next.
‘Ee-aw! Ee-aw!’
It starts with Dan.
Not that loudly.
Then his mates join in.
‘Ee-aw! Ee-aw!’
Then Meg too.
‘Ee-aw! Ee-aw!’
Nicu still doesn’t know that this crap is
aimed at him.
He’s smiling at a dinner lady now,
with that puppy smile
that makes her well happy –
I mean, she’s like forty years old.
Why wouldn’t she love that face?
Dan picks up his plate
and marches over to Nicu.
He thinks he’s Kanye bloody West.
Everyone knows Dan lives with both parents in a massive semi
up Crouch End way.
Thinks he’s a rude boy.
I watch.
Can’t look away.
Know I should leave.
Know I should tell someone.
Know I should do something.
But
come on,
this is Dan Bell-end we’re talking about.
Standing up to him would be
one hundred per cent suicide.
Nicu looks up.
At last.
But smiles
too sweetly,
too innocently,
too much like a typical foreigner
who just doesn’t get it.
Until he does.
Until Dan tips his chips over Nicu’s head.
Until they are tumbling down his shoulders.
Until ketchup is slathered through his hair and
Dan is laughing,
and his mates are laughing,
and most of the idiots in the room are laughing.
Then
Meg saunters over and casually launches half a muffin
at Nicu’s face.
‘A bit much,’ I murmur.
And Liz is like, ‘So what? He’s weird.’
And Shawna says, ‘I think the hair’s an improvement
actually.’
Nicu is silent.
His hand curls around his carton of apple juice.
The sparkle trickles out of him,
and I’d bet anything
that in his head he’s telling himself to be
a good boy, a good boy.
I mean,
what else can he do
with Dan and his boys surrounding him,
hoping it’ll kick off?
I can’t stay.
Can’t see any more.
‘Fuck this,’ I say
and, leaving my tray where it is,
go for a smoke behind the drama block.