‘There is a deep sense of shame nestling in my breast this morning, one that I can only attribute to the actions of a small minority of your year, actions which took place last night . . .’
The entire year was sitting in the main hall the following morning, listening to Mr Black as he talked about the football. I was right in the middle, sitting next to Hannah and Grace, hoping that he wouldn’t pick on Jit or Gary for being sent off. They were both at the back of the hall, Gary with his class, and Jit sitting on his own because he had come in late. When I’d called for him no one answered and he wasn’t waiting with Grace when I got to hers either. I don’t know where he’d been but I knew it was because he was angry about the game. At least that’s what I thought was up with him. Mr Black cleared his throat and continued.
‘. . . I’m not saying that racism is to be tolerated. It should be punished. But not like yesterday. Attacking another school’s pupils, regardless of what they’ve done, when they’ve been invited as our guests, is not the way of Devana High. It is not the civilized response. Now, I know some of you will argue that you were abused and I know that is wrong, but it is up to us, as your teachers, to sort these problems out. You don’t do it by jostling and jeering a group of pupils and teachers from another school as though they were elks and you were a pack of wolves . . . oh, some of you may snigger but that’s what I saw last night. Bullying, cowardly actions which I will not tolerate. Do I make myself clear?’
‘Yes, sir,’ replied about half of our year group.
‘Right, now get to lessons, whilst I try and salvage what is left of the goodwill towards our school by telephoning their principal and apologizing in person. Good morning, Year Nine.’
And with that he stormed out of the hall, closely followed by Herbert and Singh. We had English with Herbert and I walked towards the classroom slowly. Jit was waiting outside the hall for me, and he looked like he had slept in his clothes. There was a strange smell coming from him and his hair was a mess.
‘You look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge, backwards,’ I said to him.
He looked into my eyes and then down at his feet.
‘I couldn’t sleep,’ he told me. ‘I was angry about gettin’ sent off and then when I did fall asleep, I couldn’t get up and I didn’t want to be late for school . . .’
‘That’s a first,’ I told him, smiling.
‘Didn’t even have time to shower,’ he said.
‘Yeah, I can smell that for myself,’ I joked, but then wished that I hadn’t opened my big mouth. Jit looked away.
‘Only kiddin’, bro,’ I said, trying to make up for it.
‘You got any more of them games to sell?’ he asked me, changing the subject.
‘Nah – Gussie’s gonna get some more this weekend – should have some next week.’
‘Good,’ replied Jit. ‘I could use the money . . .’
I was going to say something but Jit saw Grace and Hannah coming towards us and got all funny.
‘I’m goin’ to the toilets to sort out my hair,’ he said.
‘Never bothered you before,’ I said.
‘See you in class,’ he replied, running off before Hannah and Grace reached us.
They watched him go and shook their heads.
‘Strange boy,’ said Grace.
‘Easy, Grace – don’t upset the football hooligans – they might attack us like wolves goin’ after elks,’ joked Hannah.
‘Yeah – what the hell was Black on about?’ I asked, not giving Jit another thought.
‘Dunno – he’s a funny old git,’ laughed Hannah.
‘Bit harsh on us though,’ I said.
‘I thought that,’ said Grace. ‘I mean the other team were being racist – so why should we have to apologize?’
‘Exactly,’ I told them. ‘Seems to me like it’s different rules for them schools, you get me?’
‘No there aren’t,’ said Hannah.
‘So you explain it then.’
Hannah looked at me and grinned. ‘OK – I will then . . . er . . . later . . . when I’ve asked me mum,’ she said.
When I got home that evening I spent an hour sitting in front of the telly, not really paying attention to what I was watching. Ruby turned up around half-past five with a load of shopping bags and slumped down on the sofa next to me.
‘None of your business,’ she told me.
‘How many do you need?’
She looked at me like I was an insect.
‘I change my clothes – every day – not like you, you dutty tramp.’
I was about to answer back when my Gramps walked in and sat down too.
‘I see yuh a buy more clothes,’ he said to Ruby, who groaned.
‘Leave it out, Gramps – he’s just been saying the same thing. I’m a girl – I need to have clothes.’
Gramps shook his head and let out a little sigh. ‘Back when I was growin’ up in Kingston, me ’ave one shirt pon mi back and one shoes pon mi foot.’
I grinned at Ruby. It was a story that he always told us.
‘So you never had no trousers then?’ I asked.
‘Eh?’
‘Trousers, Gramps. You walk around in your boxer shorts?’
‘You likkle raas – of course mi ’ave trouser – two of dem . . . but we never ’ave money like de yout’ dem today. You two dunno yuh born, man. Spoil fe true . . .’ he replied, shaking his head again.
‘Well, we ain’t in Jamaica,’ said Ruby. ‘This is England and a girl needs to have clothes.’
Gramps let out a little giggle.
‘Inglan? Yuh father should ’ave moved yuh raas to Jamaica, man. None a dem pickney spoilt like yuh.’
Pickney means ‘kids’ and Gramps went on to tell us how there was no discipline in English schools which meant that kids had no morals nowadays.
I just kept on grinning at my sister as Gramps went off on one, not stopping to see if we were even listening.
‘One cuff pon dem ’ead an’ dem soon hush dem mout’,’ he mumbled.
Gussie walked in just as Gramps was winding up. He told me to come up to his room.
‘What for?’ I asked, as Gramps turned his attention to the telly and the news.
‘Never mind – just get yer skinny backside up the stairs, bro,’ replied Gussie.
‘Which one of you is helpin’ with the dinner tonight?’ asked Ruby.
‘We’ll toss a coin,’ said Gussie.
‘You best do an’ all. I ain’t doin’ it all on my own again. You wan’ eat, yuh best help wid it,’ she warned, sounding just like my mum.
I groaned and followed Gussie up the stairs and into his room, which was at the back of the house. It was a mess, with clothes all over the floor and empty mugs and plates everywhere. There were albums stacked high on a shelf next to a neat little sound system too and on the floor stood two massive speakers that weren’t connected up.
‘Where’d you get them?’ I asked about the speakers.
‘Mate,’ replied Gussie, as usual. It was like his stock answer to everything.
‘So what do you want?’ I said, not that I was in any hurry to go back downstairs and peel potatoes or whatever it was that Ruby had lined up for me.
‘Phones, my boy,’ said Gussie with a grin, putting on a posh accent. ‘Mobile communication devices especially for the youths of today. Super, what?’
‘Just shut up and let me see them,’ I told him.
He picked up a bag from his bed and unzipped it, pulling out a mobile phone. Handing it to me, he threw the bag back down onto the bed. I looked at the black handset. It was a BlackBerry with a camera, Bluetooth and everything.
‘Wow – this is cool,’ I said, turning it over in my hands. It was so light.
‘Them things ain’t nothing,’ said Gussie. ‘There’s a new range about to come out, even better . . . Raj is getting me one as soon as they get released.’
‘How many you got?’ I asked.
‘Six – all with the chargers. Should be easy to get rid of,’ he said.
‘How much?’ I asked.
Gussie shrugged. ‘Up to you what you charge for them . . .’ he said, looking away.
‘Nah – I meant how much do you want?’
He picked up the bag again and tipped out the rest. Then he sat down on his bed and played with one of his rings.
‘I got ’em for nothing,’ he said. ‘I told you – they was extra stock that Raj wanted rid of and he owed me some stuff anyways.’
I frowned at him.
‘Something wrong with them?’ I asked, getting worried.
‘Don’t be stupid – why would I take a load of dodgy phones? Ain’t exactly good business, is it?’
I thought about it for a minute and realized that he was right. He wouldn’t have taken them if they were messed up. As the thought dawned on me, Gussie told me what he wanted.
‘Just give us fifty for ’em,’ he said.
‘Each?’
‘Nah – for the lot, baby brother. And don’t say that I never look after you.’
Greed took over and I realized that I would make loads of money on them. I looked at my brother who shrugged again, in a ‘take it or leave it’ kind of way.
‘You got a deal,’ I told him, grinning like a fool.
I ran up to my room, got out my stash of savings and counted fifty quid. Then I ran back downstairs to give it to Gussie, half expecting him to have changed his mind or laugh and say that it was all a wind-up. The phones were worth over one hundred pounds each in the shops, which meant that I could sell them for seventy quid no problem. It was the deal of the century, the bargain of the millennium. I was well happy. I handed my money to Gussie and grabbed the phones, just as I heard the door bell ring.