THERE WERE TWO TYPES of relievers. Everyone knew that. The ones that came on all hard-out, like they were proper teachers or something, and the ones that were happy enough sitting at the back reading the paper, just so long as nobody broke anything or made too much noise. The good ones. Either way it would be an improvement on Dalgleish’s classes.
Sharon sat down the back, same as always, and waited to see what sort the school had come up with.
‘Hi guys.’ The new face hurried into the room and dumped a pile of books on the teacher’s desk. Then she turned, leant back against it, brushed a mess of brown red curls off her face and smiled. She looked like a PE teacher who’d got lost on her way to the gym, little shorts and a tight t-shirt. Sharon looked closely at her face. She’d seen her before somewhere.
‘My name’s Ms Black. I’ve just moved down here from teaching in Rotorua.’
Rotorua, Sharon remembered now. Last year’s touch nationals. Ms Black had coached the other team, the team that had knocked them out in the first round.
‘Actually my real name’s Trish, call me either.’ One of them. ‘I’m with you for the month and this,’ she held up a copy of a book Sharon recognised from the year before, ‘is what we’ve been left to get through. So it’s pretty simple really. We’ll read it, get to know it a bit, and it should all be sweet. Any questions?’
Sharon looked round the class, saw them all weighing her up, watching her as she walked round handing out the books, wondering whether they’d have to do any work, what would happen if they tried it on.
‘So we just read it?’ someone near the front asked.
‘Yeah, for now. Let’s say twenty minutes, see how far you get. We’ll take it from there.’ She didn’t seem to notice the way people started to moan, like to her that was perfectly normal.
‘I haven’t read it yet either,’ she added, ‘so I’ll be doing the same.’
‘You won’t like it Miss, it sucks.’ It was Jason, another second year.
‘So you’ve already read it then?’
‘Did it last year.’
‘Oh well.’
The class was getting restless, like they’d seen a way in, a way of maybe taking over.
‘Yeah, I done it too,’ Junior, sitting next to Jason, lied. ‘It’s gay.’
‘Couldn’t we get a video of it and watch that?’
‘Reading sucks miss. It’s last spell.’
‘Yeah, it’s too stuffy. Can we go outside?’
‘Yeah, let’s do something outside. We can read these at home.’
Sharon watched carefully, seeing the way Ms Black stood there in the middle of them, not arguing, just listening, not giving anything away. Her eyes were quiet too, like Kaz’s got when she was playing poker. Any thinking was going on way back out of view. There was something about her, something hard. It kept Sharon staring at her. Other people too, so the complaints and suggestions died away without Ms Black having to say anything. And that was the same as them having given in.
She could say what she wanted now and they’d have to listen, those were the rules. Someone had flinched and walked away. Ms Black knew it too, and let the silence hang round before she spoke, making the point. And then, she surprised them some more.
‘Okay, listen carefully, because I’ve got a deal for you.’
‘We don’t have to read the book?’ Jason called out but Ollie leaned forward and hit him, before he could ruin it.
‘On the one hand you’re perfectly right, it’s hot in here and we’re all tired and it’s a lousy time to be sitting inside reading.’ She spoke slowly, not hurrying with the instructions the way most relievers did. ‘On the other hand there’s no way I’m going to spend a month of my life sitting round watching you guys run away from every little thing that looks like it might take a bit of effort. So, here’s the thing. We go out onto the field now, and we play touch in the sun for forty minutes.’ There was an eruption of approval. Half the class were already up out of their seats. Ms Black held up a hand and waited quietly, still not giving anything away. ‘And in return, at the end of this spell, you listen to me talking about this book for fifteen minutes, without a word, and you get a writing assignment due at the end of the week. So what do you say? Do we have a deal?’
She looked around the class but no one spoke. Sharon could tell some of them were thinking they’d put one over her, that she was going to be an easy touch after all. Sharon didn’t. There was too much about Ms Black she recognised, the way she was so keen to negotiate, the way she leant over behind the teacher’s desk and produced a touch ball she must have left there especially, because she’d had it planned that way all along.
Most of the others were too busy whooping it up to notice, rushing back round past the Science block and out onto the field. Sharon hung back, avoiding Ms Black’s eye as she walked past her.
‘I know you don’t I? Were you up at the nationals last year?’
‘Yeah,’ Sharon nodded, looking down to the ground, feeling sort of shamed, trying not to show she was half-pleased to be recognised.
‘Thought so. You’re on my team then.’
Not everyone played. Touch was big at the school, one of the things they were known for, but there were still a few people who weren’t into it. Sharon thought about not playing, to show she hadn’t been sucked in, but Madeleine was one of the others piking. Sharon wasn’t going to sit next to Madeleine for forty minutes just to prove a point. And she loved touch. Played it at lunchtime sometimes, days she didn’t have any cigarettes.
Ms Black wanted to play girls on boys but the boys all mocked her and complained they wouldn’t get a decent game. So she compromised and made the two loudest guys come and play with the girls. Sharon could see them falling for it so easily, strutting across like they’d come to do some huge favour.
It was the perfect afternoon for it, the sun was out but it wasn’t hot. The sort of day where you wouldn’t end up smelling too bad. It was the perfect way to get to know a new teacher too. Sharon had to admit Ms Black was a good player, good enough to shame the boys half the time, and keep the game even. The way she ran amongst them, mocking the opposition, rubbing it in every time her team scored, it was hard not liking her. Half an hour into the game, when Mr Harp, a science teacher whose lab backed onto the field, stormed out to complain, it got even harder.
Mr Harp was famous for his fits. Once he’d sent a whole class to the Principal’s office. Another time he’d locked Sharon’s class in at the end of the day and left them there until Sharon had taken control and smashed a window. He was a little man with an orange moustache and eyes that swelled up behind his glasses when he started to lose it. He didn’t try to be polite about it, or even start a conversation. He just waited until the next turnover and pounced on the ball. Then he stood there in the middle of the game, looking like one of those referees who’s in love with his whistle. Sharon turned to Ms Black, to see how she’d react. They all did.
‘Hi, I’m Trish. I don’t think we’ve met.’ She walked over, wiping her hand on her shirt and offering it to him. He didn’t take it. ‘Is there something wrong?’
‘What do you mean is something wrong? I’ve got a class in there and they can’t work when this is going on out the window. You’re a reliever are you?’
He spoke to her as if she was one of the students.
‘That’s right.’
‘Well perhaps I can believe it’s just ignorance then. Come and see me at the end of the spell if you like and I’ll explain how things work here. You can have your ball back then too.’
He turned to walk away but Ms Black was too quick for him. She brought her foot up and kicked the ball out of his hands, catching it as he turned. It was a nice move and the class applauded. Mr Harp’s face went red and his moustache twitched. He looked like a traffic light that couldn’t make up its mind.
‘I’ll be taking this up with the Principal,’ he fumed.
‘No worries,’ she smiled back at him and held his stare until he was forced to walk away. A cheer went up and Sharon joined in. It was impossible not to. ‘Why don’t you bring your class out too?’ she yelled after him as he power-walked his way out of there. ‘It’d do you good to loosen up a bit.’
The game ended in a draw and Ms Black took them to the corner of the field, although by then she was Trish. They sat down on the grass. Sharon moved near the front. She’d scored a try, right at the end, and it was turning into a good day, one where there was less reason to drift out to the edges.
‘Right, back to the book.’
They groaned, but not too much. They had a deal.
‘So you,’ she pointed at Junior. ‘You didn’t like the book. Why not?’
‘Oh well, I don’t know?’ Junior shrugged.
‘He hasn’t even read it Miss,’ Sharon said. ‘He’s just a fool.’
‘Have you Sharon?’ Sharon felt everyone looking at her and immediately she regretted having spoken. It was like for a second she’d forgotten it was English, where everything she tried to say always turned to custard. She didn’t even remember the book. She just remembered she didn’t like it.
‘Sort of.’
‘And did you like it?’ Sharon wished Trish’d notice, see how it was making her feel.
‘Not really.’
‘Why not?’
‘I dunno.’ Sounding stupid, when it wasn’t quite like that. It wasn’t fair.
‘It’s not very realistic Miss.’ Jason came in with the save. He was trying to impress her, same as he’d been going hard-out in the game, not knowing how obvious he was. ‘She’s so lame. Why doesn’t she just kill the guy and stop whining about it in her diary.’
‘Now you’ve ruined it for me wanker,’ Junior complained. ‘I can’t read it now, I know the ending.’
‘And no one keeps diaries Miss,’ Sharon added, determined to show she did have something to say, something that wasn’t ‘dunno’, or ‘reckon’.
‘Well yes funny you should mention that Sharon,’ Trish said.
‘Oh good one Sharon.’
‘Fuck you.’
‘You wish.’
‘No no,’ Trish interrupted. ‘I was going to do this anyway.’
Yeah, all of it. You’ve planned the whole thing. Maybe even paid old Harp to go psycho. It’s good though. Shows you’re not stupid, not like most of them.
‘The thing is I think you’re right okay? I think this story is absolute bullshit.’
‘I thought you hadn’t read it.’
‘Well I guess I might have lied there.’ She smiled and leant forward, holding her toe in a stretch. ‘I mean, it’s not real is it? It’s about a world that maybe people want you to believe in, but you can’t, because you’re here and you know it’s not real. So I was thinking, why not write about some real people for a change? Let’s write about ourselves. That’s the work I’m setting, it’s the price you pay for your touch lesson Junior.’
‘Yeah right.’
‘But you’ve given us reading too Miss,’ Ollie complained.
‘It can be anything you like.’ Trish ignored him. ‘About yourself. A poem, a diary entry, a story. True or imagined, a mixture if you like. Any length too, so long as it’s in some way real.’
‘I can’t do it this week Miss,’ Junior said. ‘I got too much other stuff on.’
‘Yeah, what happens if we don’t do it?’
‘I’ll kick your arse,’ Trish replied, with a big smile like she was some Auntie come down to visit, someone who could get away with stuff like that. ‘Hey, what’s the time? Five past. Near enough eh? Right, away you go then.’
Sharon had left her bag in class and had to go back for it. By then everyone else had gone and it was just Trish there.
‘Sharon isn’t it?’ Trish looked up from her desk, where she was writing ‘all present’ on the absence sheet, even though she hadn’t taken a roll. ‘Nice game.’
‘It was alright.’
‘Got any ideas for the assignment then?’
‘Ah, not really. I don’t really get what you want us to write.’ Sharon shrugged, feeling stupid again, trying hard not to let it show.
‘Something about yourself.’
‘Yeah, guess.’
‘Say maybe something you like. What’s something you really like?’
‘There’s more things I hate,’ Sharon said.
‘Okay then, give me them. Make it a list. Write me a list of the ten things you hate most. Yeah, that would be great. I’ll look forward to it.’
And her eyes lit up, like she really meant it.
You won’t be so excited when you see it and you realise I don’t have that much to say.
‘Right.’ Sharon picked up her bag and headed out the door.
‘Later then Sharon,’ Trish called, like she was some old friend.
‘Yeah later,’ Sharon called back, even though something about it felt sort of weird.
THINGS I HATE
I hate feeling stupid.
And what? Sharon sat with her back to the concrete of the overbridge support, feeling the traffic rumble above her, staring down at the paper. She didn’t feel like being at home. It was going to end up that sort of day. The sort where no matter where you settle it feels wrong, like when you’re desperately tired but you can’t get comfortable enough to sleep. Her head was full of pictures that changed shape as soon as she looked at them. The smile she had caught on Mrs Flynn’s face, just as she walked out of her office, the bruise below Justin’s right eye, that she’d seen on him down the other end of the corridor, before he saw her looking and ducked into the toilets. And Trish running round the field, getting into it, fitting in like she’d been there all her life. It was Trish kept coming back the clearest of all.
So she sat there, a place they often stopped on the way home, to smoke and gossip and stare at the kids who used it as a short cut across to the expensive suburb up on the hill. But writing was never easy and writing for Trish was twice as hard. What would she think when Sharon handed in a piece of work angry with crossing outs, that showed she didn’t know any of the right words, and the words she did know she couldn’t spell?
‘Just write the way you’d say it,’ teachers were always saying. ‘Like you’re speaking out a conversation in your head.’ Only when Sharon thought she didn’t use words, or if she did they weren’t the sort of words you could spell out with sounds and letters.
So she’d managed four words, seven if you counted the title, in half an hour, and she knew that was as far as she was going to get. Anything more and Trish would see what a waste of effort she was, same as they always did.
‘And then I worked out that if you go back to the master screen, from level five, through Control T, you get a list of all the codes.’
It was Mark’s voice interrupting her thoughts, his excited talk carrying along above the train lines. Sharon looked up. He was with Chris, his only friend, the two pairs of chubby white legs keeping step with each other, their heads down so they hadn’t even seen her. Good timing she figured. The sort of timing that can make a half idea seem whole.
‘Hi boys,’ she said, smiling because she knew it’d make them feel nervous. They both stopped, standing fidgeting with the straps of their heavy school bags.
‘What do you want?’ Mark asked.
‘Just you,’ Sharon said standing so she blocked their way forward. ‘Chris, you can piss off home.’
She looked at Chris who glanced sideways at Mark, uncertain. Mark nodded, just once, a small movement like even the thought of disturbing the air frightened him, and Chris took a nervous step to the side.
‘Ah, yeah, see you later then eh Mark? I’ll ring you tonight.’ And if you’re not there I’ll call the police, he meant. Sharon smiled again. Knowing she’d never be that pathetic made her happy.
‘Yeah, okay,’ Mark squeaked back and Chris ran off. Mark looked up and then quickly away, as soon as Sharon caught his stare.
‘What is it?’ he mumbled. It wasn’t the first time she’d stopped him like this, to get some homework off him.
‘You’re coming back to my place.’
‘Eh?’ He went instantly pale, like there was nothing he could think of that would scare him more. ‘Um, now?’
‘Yeah now.’
‘I, I can’t. I’ve got my paper run.’
‘It’s not going to take long,’ Sharon said, knowing she wouldn’t have to argue. He’d do it.
‘What is it I have to do?’ He tried, like that could make a difference.
‘Can’t tell you. It’s something I have to show you.’
Which was true and better. It sounded frightening too. Mark’s face tightened even more.
‘Um, later maybe. What about tomorrow? I’ve got a free last.’
Sharon could see all the fear turning to desperate hope, till she grabbed his wrist and jerked him forward. With her other hand she pulled out her lighter.
‘Like the smell of flesh burning then do you?’
She flicked down and the flame appeared, dancing in the breeze like it was itching for the chance.
‘No, of course not, I mean okay, I’ll come with you. Just not too long okay?’
‘Maybe.’
Sharon could tell he’d never been this way before. It was in the way he walked, keeping close, like she was his protector, even though she scared him half to death. She found herself becoming angry with him, for being such a wimp, and the angrier she got the faster she walked, till she could hear him puffing behind her, struggling to keep up.
It must have looked crazy, her swinging in through the front door, this little blob of wheezing behind her, not knowing which way to look, or even where to stand in a place like this. Kaz was in the lounge, TV up way loud, and the look she gave them was classic. ‘You could do better than this girl’ it said, and Sharon had to agree.
‘Mum, this is Mark.’ She didn’t usually bother with introductions but she could see how small it was making him feel. ‘We’re just going down to my room. Don’t disturb us.’
And Mark’s face went even redder, although you wouldn’t think that was possible, and the ‘hello’ his lips stumbled over didn’t sound like a word at all.
‘Right, sit down,’ Sharon ordered as soon as she’d slammed the bedroom door behind her. Mark balanced the edge of his arse on the end of the bed, because it was that or the floor, which was covered in clothes that needed washing. ‘Okay, I want you to write something for me.’
‘Homework?’ He asked.
‘Yeah.’
‘I don’t know why you bother. If you’re not going to do it yourself. You won’t learn anything,’ he protested.
‘I am going to do it myself. I’m just going to get you to write it out, so there aren’t any mistakes, okay?’
She glared at him.
‘I suppose.’
‘You’ll do better than suppose you little shit,’ Sharon hissed. She grabbed Mark hard, each hand with a fistful of collar, and lifted his startled frame off the bed. Then she swung him hard against the wall, hard enough for the room to shake. Kaz wouldn’t come running. She’d seen him. She’d know there was nothing to worry about. Sharon leant forward so her face was right in his and his expression contorted, like his features were trying to escape. ‘And you won’t tell anyone about this. Not a fucken single person. Not even any imaginary friends you might have. Get it?’
As soon as she let him go the tears came, like her grip on him had been holding them back. He slid down against the wall till his arse met the floor and buried his head in his hands so all she could see was his red hair going up and down in time with the snotty breathing. Sharon waited for him to get over it. She knew he would. He had no choice. He rubbed his eyes and looked at her, like there was a part of him half expecting an apology, but that was never going to happen. So he stood back up and got his bag, took out pen and paper and sat back down on the edge of the bed, ready.
Mark took it all down without asking questions. It was easier, just saying it, and the more she said the quicker the words came, a list of hates piling up so high she almost lost sight of Mark sitting there, and got a bit loose with the descriptions. He didn’t seem to notice though, he was too busy trying to keep up, his little knuckle going white around the pen, his face screwed up in concentration. He only let the look slip once, halfway down the list.
‘And I hate those guys when you look them in the eye they look back at you like they think you’re the biggest piece of trash they can imagine. But then other times, when they don’t think you’re watching, they’ll be letting their eyes wander all over you, trying to get a look up your skirt if they can, like them hating you doesn’t matter at all.’
He blushed at that, just quickly, but he still wrote it down.
‘And I want it done tomorrow,’ was all Sharon had to say when she was finished spewing her ideas out into the room, more ideas than she knew she had. ‘Typed up on a computer, not in your handwriting.’
‘Um are you sure this is what they wanted?’ Mark moved to the door, like he was scared she might attack him again.
‘Yes I fucken am. You think I’m stupid or something?’
And he wasn’t so stupid to try to answer that. She heard his feet breaking out into a trot as he headed down the hall.
• • •
Mark wasn’t at school the next day. Probably the first time he’d ever wagged, Sharon reckoned. Showed he was scared of her. That was good. Justin was there though, still avoiding her in the corridors, his big purple bruise slowly fading to yellow. She’d decided she was never going to talk to him again but it wasn’t the sort of decision designed to last. So she cut English and followed him across the field to the bike shed, where she’d seen him heading at the end of interval. She came up round the back, so he wouldn’t get a chance to walk away, and paused for a moment at the rusting iron wall, just out of sight, smelling his second-hand smoke on the breeze. It was somehow cool, being that close and him not knowing she was there.
Sharon wasn’t expecting to hear his voice though, talking normal, or as normal as he ever talked.
‘Just whatever really,’ she heard him say. ‘I got nothing till after lunch.’
‘Want to come round to my place then?’ Madeleine’s voice, ugly and unmistakable. As unmistakable as the feeling in the back of Sharon’s throat, taking her totally by surprise. The sort of feeling that forces you to swallow, then sets up an echo in your stomach. Jealousy. Weird. She’d never really thought of Justin that way. She couldn’t deny it though, any more than she could deny the way her face was getting hotter as she waited for the reply. ‘Want to come round to my place?’ Slut.
‘Nah, might just head home.’ Good one Justin. Always said you had standards.
‘That’s a shame.’ Why don’t you just take your clothes off while you’re at it? In case he’s missed the point.
‘You want me to tag along? I’ve never seen your place.’
She wouldn’t give up, not Madeleine. At least not till she caught another scent to follow.
‘Nah, don’t think so. Sorry, I prefer not having people there. It’s my place to be by myself, you know what I mean?’
‘Sure,’ muffled through corrugated iron but Sharon could still hear the disappointment, enough to tell she’d got the hint. He let me come round. Showed me his map even, had me back for dinner too! Wouldn’t do that for you though, cos you’re not worth the effort.
‘Well, thanks for the smoke. See you round eh?’
‘Sure.’
Sharon listened to the footsteps and backed up a metre. It was okay. She was heading out the other side, off towards the station. Sharon waited until she heard Justin lighting up another cigarette then walked around the front, trying hard to look natural, like she’d only just wandered across and was surprised to see him there. Casual, doesn’t-matter-one-way-or-the-other surprise. Not as easy as it looks.
As soon as he looked up she knew she’d failed. Even with the bruise he managed to look like the clever bastard he was, the sort who’d seen right through her. Who knew she hadn’t just wandered over for a smoke, maybe even could see the way she’d blushed only a minute before, when Madeleine had tried to stake a claim.
‘What do you want?’ he asked straight off. Not aggressive, just asking, to show he knew there was something. He shuffled sideways on the dirt floor so there was room beside him and she lowered herself into the space Madeleine’s arse had kept warm.
‘Just on bike patrol. I volunteered.’
He smiled and she took the chance to bring out her own cigarettes. Not a good time to scab. Even though she knew it was him who’d dumped on her, pretending he’d told Simon when Simon didn’t know anything about it, getting her hopes all up for nothing, she still felt she owed him. Not very in control. Not very Trish. She tried to swallow the feeling with the smoke but neither’d stay down forever.
‘So what are you doing here anyway?’ Sharon asked.
‘Just waiting.’
‘What for?’ She knew she was meant to ask. He had that little smile starting to pull up on the side of his mouth.
‘You.’ Bullshit.
‘Yeah right, so that’s why you keep avoiding me, cos you want to see me. Makes sense.’
‘Does actually.’ And Sharon shut up, because she wanted to believe it. He let the silence take hold then interrupted it gently.
‘I couldn’t talk round school you see, and I knew as soon as I said anything you’d want to know about the other night and I couldn’t risk anyone hearing.’
‘Yeah, so why didn’t you get me a message or something?’
‘Didn’t have to,’ he said, blowing out a thin stream of smoke the way they do on a movie, to show how up themselves they are.
‘So?’ Sharon said.
‘So what?’
‘What did happen? How come Simon didn’t know, when you said he did? What were you doing?’
‘I sort of screwed up,’ he shrugged, like that explained everything.
‘Oh, well in that case sorry for asking.’
‘Settle,’ he said, still smiling like it might have been some big joke. Not to Sharon it wasn’t.
‘Why the fuck should I settle? Do you know what a pain in the arse it was getting those letters? I got chased, ran down this fucken bank just to get away. And the cops came sniffing too, had to bullshit my way out of it. Just so you could screw up and make me feel bad.’
The way they were sitting so close, squashed down into the one corner where there were no bike racks, it was impossible to get properly angry. You’d have to be standing up for that. Maybe it was why Justin stayed so cool.
‘Look, I invited you round cos he’d said he needed a girl to help with a job. He hadn’t told me to find someone exactly but I knew it’d be sweet. He’d used the mail thing before. I was just trying to show some initiative. I was going to tell him but he only just got home before you arrived so I thought I’d bluff through it, pretend you were just a date or something, tell him later, after you’d gone.’
That word ‘date’, said by him like that, it made her feel strange, the sort of strange that had her suddenly aware of the point where their shoulders were touching, where before she hadn’t even noticed. Didn’t mean he could go and make it into her fault though. She knew where this was going. She wasn’t that thick.
‘Then you showed him the bag and it all went sort of wrong.’
‘Because you didn’t fucken tell me what was happening you fool. Why didn’t you say? You had the whole fucken dinner to say?’
‘I just forgot. I was just, well, I was just having a good time, didn’t want to ruin it.’
Answer for everything haven’t you? Bastard.
‘Yeah, well you deserve that then don’t you,’ she said, pointing at the bruise that didn’t look quite as bad close up.
‘Probably do,’ Justin nodded, smiling again. Sharon didn’t get that, the way he could see it as funny. There’s nothing funny about some bastard hitting you. ‘It’s turned out okay though. That’s the thing.’
‘How?’
‘That’s why I’ve been waiting to talk to you. Simon wants you to help us on a job.’
‘Nah.’ Sharon’s heart jumped at the possibility, but she’d seen Simon’s face, when she’d shown him the bag. It couldn’t be right.
‘Why nah?’
‘You’re bullshitting me again, same as before. It’s not funny you know.’
‘I’m not,’ he said. ‘You don’t know Simon. He can be weird sometimes. He doesn’t like surprises. But he calms down, and I told him you’d be good. You can’t pull out now. Then he really will be pissed.’
‘What’s the job?’
‘Can’t say,’ Justin said.
‘Fine. Then I can’t do it.’
‘No, you don’t get it. I don’t know what it is. That’s how it works.’
‘When?’ Sharon asked, because she knew she couldn’t let it go, even if it might be bullshit. Because if it wasn’t…
‘Tomorrow night. Our place ten o’clock. You in?’
‘Sure’ was almost out of her mouth when she remembered, and the memory was like a spike, punching through her excitement.
‘Well?’ he asked.
‘There’s something else you have to tell me first,’ Sharon said.
‘What?’
‘A few weeks ago, down at the park, in the morning. I saw Simon. He was there. He was watching me. How come?’
‘I don’t know. He wanders about all the time. Did he say anything?’
But there had been a hesitation, just a half second, before he answered. Another warning.
‘No.’
‘Just a coincidence then.’
‘Maybe.’
‘Definitely. Here, are you in?’
‘I’m not sure,’ Sharon answered, pissed off that it could be this complicated.
‘Fair enough. Here’s the thing then.’ Justin stood up and Sharon was left sitting beneath him, feeling like some naughty little child having it explained to them why they were about to get a good hiding.
‘You’re either there tomorrow at ten or you’re not. If you are, you’re in. If not there’s never any chance that you will be. Oh, and I have to tell you this, if anyone else ever hears even a single word, we’re both fucked.’
He flicked his cigarette butt against the wall and turned and walked away, like he was twice as hard as he’d ever be. Not like Justin at all. Sharon watched him walk off and tried to work out how, only ten minutes earlier, she’d thought about wanting him. But she knew she’d have to go tomorrow night. He knew it too.
• • •
‘Sharon! That boy’s here!’
It was Zinny who brought the news, racing it down the hallway and tripping over his half-off socks as he reached Sharon’s room.
‘What boy?’ Sharon snapped. She didn’t need a visitor right now. What she needed was Kaz to get back on time for once, like she’d promised she would, that and some new clothes. Clothes that would look right on your first job, that wouldn’t look too young, like all the stuff she’d spread out over her bed suddenly looked.
‘Zinny, what boy?’ Sharon repeated.
‘What are you doing?’ Zinny asked, his eyes even wider than usual and his bottom lip dropping. ‘Are you going away?’
‘Eh?’ Sharon scooped him up in her arms and held him tight, too tight to be real. ‘Course not matey. Just sorting out some old clothes. You can have some if you like, for dress up. You know I’d never leave you here.’
‘Ah hi.’ Sharon turned to the new voice. Mark, hovering uncertainly just past Zinny’s head. Typical, that he’d walk in on her like this. Fucken typical. Sharon put Zinny back down.
‘Him,’ her little brother said, pointing. ‘The funny one.’
‘Yeah, got it,’ Sharon said. ‘Here, you go and play in the kitchen. Kaz’ll be home soon.’ Then to Mark, when Zinny had hurried off.
‘What the fuck are you doing here?’
‘I brought your assignment,’ Mark mumbled.
‘It’s not a good time,’ Sharon said, squaring off as if she was protecting the room from him. ‘Give it here. I’ll read it later.’
In a way she’d lost interest anyway. They’d only had English once since and it had just been normal, reading crap and pretending to answer questions from some old photocopied worksheet. Trish had gone back to being Ms Black. Friendlier than most teachers, and not so uptight, but still a teacher.
‘Um.’ Mark produced an envelope from his jacket pocket but didn’t hand it over.
‘Give it here. I’m in a hurry.’
But his hands only tightened around it.
‘We need to talk about it I think. To check it’s alright.’
‘Did you put what I said in?’
Mark nodded.
‘Yeah.’
‘Good. You’ve done your job then. Now piss off.’
Sharon snatched the envelope and stared at Mark, daring him to say anything more. He didn’t. Not with words anyway. His face said something though, something Sharon couldn’t quite read. Just before he turned away, she was sure she saw a tear forming.
Sharon took out the list and sat back on her bed. It would pass the time, stop her thinking how much she’d hate Kaz if she was back so late it ruined things with Justin. Mark had done the whole thing on computer so it looked like something official, like one of those letters of complaint the school was always sending. The swear words looked out of place, all typed up like that, wearing their Sunday Bests. Not too bad though, Sharon had to admit. It was close to the way she wanted to sound.
THINGS I HATE
I hate feeling stupid.
I hate the guys Kaz brings home.
I hate the girls at school who get pregnant and leave and then come back later to show off their babies, like they’ve done something clever. Shit, I could do that. Anyone could do that. It’s not like it’s hard, finding some loser to screw you.
I hate everyone who thinks they’re better than me.
I hate rules.
I hate running out of cigarettes.
I hate those guys who never look you in the eye, like they think you’re the biggest piece of trash they can imagine. But then other times, when they don’t think you’re watching, they’ll be letting their eyes wander all over you, trying to get a look up your skirt if they can, like them hating you doesn’t matter at all.
I hate people who think you’re stupid just because you don’t like school, like there aren’t any other choices.
I hate waiting.
I hate people who aren’t straight with their friends.
I hate people who think they’ve got special rights, just cos they’re older than you, even though most of what they say is crap, cos they’ve spent all their lives being stupid.
I hate people dissing Kaz. She’s okay.
I hate posers.
I hate people who use words to tangle you up, so you have to cut your way out.
I hate people who give in.
Sharon read over the list twice, trying to work out the feelings it gave her. Feeling shamed, that she’d ever thought about putting stuff like that down on paper, where it didn’t belong. Feeling small, when she thought what Trish would think if she read it. Feeling excited too, because second time through it didn’t sound too bad. Trouble was it wasn’t like just saying stuff, where you could take it back or cover up and try to change the topic. She put it on top of her drawer and made a deal with herself. If tonight went okay, if she managed to impress Simon, then it was a sign. A sign she was meant to hand it in.
• • •
Kaz was late back, no surprises there, bursting in on a cloud of cigarette smoke and obscenities.
‘Had to wait half a fucken hour in the fucken rain didn’t I, cos none of those bastard taxi drivers will come out here after dark, lazy mothers. Then Sandy offers me a ride with Lance only he’s half pissed and has to drive round the back of the fucken valley doesn’t he?’
Worst thing was it was all probably true, because there was always something getting in the way of the life Kaz tried to pretend she was leading. Even though it was the sort of stuff anyone else’d see coming, the way Kaz saw it nothing had to be her fault exactly.
‘Anyway,’ Kaz had finished drying her hair off on Zinny’s pyjamas, that Sharon had left out in front of the heater, so they’d be warm for him. ‘What are you getting so uptight about?’
‘He pisses in those you know.’
‘I washed them yesterday.’
‘You said eight thirty.’
‘Told you, it wasn’t my fault. Here, make me a coffee will you?’
‘Can’t,’ Sharon said. ‘I’m going out.’
‘It’s almost ten o’clock on a Tuesday night.’
Sometimes, when she wasn’t trying too hard, Kaz could almost sound like a mother. ‘Where you going then?’
‘Just out.’
‘Not with that geek you brought home the other day I hope. I didn’t like the look of him.’ Kaz undid the button of her stressed trousers and spread out on the kitchen chair. ‘Go on kid, make us a coffee before you go. I’m fucked.’
‘Sorry, I’ve got to go.’
‘It won’t take long, less time than we’ll spend arguing about it anyway.’
Kaz could twist any argument, if it meant getting what she wanted. Sharon shrugged and walked to the sink. ‘Cheers. Here, while it’s boiling take Zinny into bed will you? Don’t worry about changing him.’
So Sharon had to run the whole way, to stop from being late for her first real job. It was still raining and she could feel her jeans getting heavier with every stride. Later, when she stopped, they’d smell of all that trapped-in effort, and her hair would collapse, making her head look too small, and she’d feel even more useless.
‘Hi,’ Sharon spoke nervously, wishing it wasn’t Simon who’d answered the door. He was wearing his black wharfies’ jacket, the one from the park, and the same hard stare, daring her to notice. He didn’t say hi back, or even nod, just stood there being big, making the door look like it had shrunk around him. When he moved aside it wasn’t by much, just enough for her to squeeze past, so she could smell the smoke on his breath as her body moved round him.
‘You made it.’ Justin looked nervous, not standing still but pacing from one end of the kitchen to the other, like he was counting out laps.
‘Course,’ Sharon replied, one last word before the silence. At first Sharon tried to be invisible, anything but ‘that little girl I knew’d only get in the way’ but the quiet lasted too long. She could feel her heartbeat speeding up, like it knew something she didn’t. She was glad of the knife she had in her back pocket.
‘Well, outta here then,’ Simon announced, not letting his stare shift from his little brother. What did he expect might happen, Sharon wondered, if he looked away. It was another danger sign she couldn’t quite read. Simon finally let his eyes drop. He picked up a dark sports bag and ducked his head as he headed out into the night.
‘After you then,’ Justin said when she looked at him, hoping for more of a signal. Simon was already half way down the street, swaying from side to side like a ship fighting a heavy swell, the rain catching in the street lights as he made his passage.
‘Here, make sure you keep up,’ Justin whispered, suddenly at her side. ‘He gets pissed off if he has to wait.’
‘So where are we going then?’ Sharon asked.
‘Questions piss him off too,’ Justin replied, before breaking into a half run to make up the lost distance. Sharon ran too, the heavy wet denim scratching at her legs like a warning.
They walked hard for twenty minutes, across the tracks and back towards the hill, where the cars disappeared into garages, and the houses had prices to match the views. They kept their heads down, trying not to attract attention, but still Sharon could feel eyes on her as cars sloshed past. She imagined the people who would live behind the tightly drawn curtains, high set windows glowing faintly above thick, unfriendly hedges. People like Mark, splitting their time between computers and homework, feeling safer than anybody ought to feel. Sharon couldn’t figure what the job would be. Good place for a burglary. She could do that, no worries, but Justin had told her they only pulled break-ins during the day.
Simon stopped at a narrow footbridge. A small stream ran darkly beneath it, protected from the streetlights by thick willows on either side. Across the bridge the path ended in neatly mown properties that extended right down to the water. Simon leant against the railing and lit a cigarette, staring at Sharon like he was expecting her to do something stupid.
‘Property’s over there,’ he muttered, nodding to the right. ‘Second along. You stay here.’ You, because he’d never be bothered learning her name. ‘All you got to do is make sure no one comes over the bridge. Got it?’
Sharon nodded. Yeah, she got it, sort of. What, but not how. How were you meant to do that, if someone came along and they wanted through? But she knew she couldn’t ask. That was the whole point. The test they were giving her. So she stared straight back at them, like it was the easiest thing in the world, and hoped no one would come past.
‘Right then.’ Simon turned to Justin. ‘You got that lighter?’
Justin nodded and they moved off, like that was all the explanation he needed. Like they did this every night, or Simon had already told him what was happening. Sharon watched their two dark figures run crouched along the other side of the stream, melting into the shadows of carefully arranged lawns, so you wouldn’t know they were there. Not unless you were straining your eyes, trying not to lose them.
Then they were gone and Sharon was left with nothing to watch but the rain. Not proper wetting rain, the sort that would keep people indoors, well away from the bridge. Light misty rain that hesitated in the streetlights and fell so lightly on your face it felt like sweat. Sharon looked at her watch. She wondered how long it would take, whatever it was they were doing. Maybe until she got sick of waiting. She knew it had to be a chance, that they were sitting somewhere drier now, watching her. Just so they could see what she’d do, when someone came along. It didn’t matter though, if that was what it took to be a part of it. There were worse things they could have asked.
It would be a dog. An old guy with a big dozy looking thing, across the road, coming out of the mist. Just the sort of dog they’d have, in their houses out on the other side. Just the sort of reason you’d need, to be out on a night like this. Once round the block in your big grey coat, so the animal would get a chance to shit, well away from the grounds the gardener had worked so hard on. They were too, coming straight at her. The guy looked up, his eyes checking her out, to see whether it was worth wasting a smile. Sharon avoided looking back, just shifted out so she was blocking the whole bridge, hoping that would be enough to send him around the long way. He didn’t have the sort of face that looked used to making detours. Too straight on his shoulders, no sign he was even thinking of backing down.
‘Excuse me.’
Said nice and loud. Not as old as she’d first thought either, now she could see him close up. Sharon didn’t move.
‘We just need past.’
‘Sorry, bridge is closed,’ Sharon replied, getting just enough ‘fuck you’ into her voice to make him hesitate.
‘I beg your pardon. Don’t be ridiculous. Move aside. I need to get through.’
No asking why, no thinking she might be anything more to him than a nuisance.
‘I’m not moving,’ Sharon said, not feeling any of the nerves anymore, not now it was happening. She hoped they were watching, both of them, with a good close up view of her calm-as face. ‘So really you got no choice. Piss off.’
He looked at her properly then, for the first time. Age, weight, considering his chances. And the dog was looking more interested too, like some smell had woken him. The smell of trouble most like. It gave a low growl and the man tightened his grip on the chain.
‘Look, you really should move off. My dog is very protective and I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.’
‘Whatever,’ Sharon said. She had to work to deliberately slow herself down, as she reached into her back pocket and produced her knife. Nothing flashy, just opening it up in front of him so he could see the extent of the blade.
‘Bridge is still closed and you’re still going to have to fuck off.’
Sharon watched him closely. He’d been bluffing the whole time. Full of shit the way they all were, people like that. His back foot moved away first, as his head went down and he turned, and Sharon felt the thrill of power. Just a little bridge sure, but there wasn’t anyone getting over it while she was there.
‘I’m going straight to call the police you know. I’ve got a good description.’
But the way he said it, hurrying away as quickly as he could, it didn’t sound too dangerous.
• • •
He’d barely gone when the sound of smashing glass dragged Sharon’s attention back to the other side of the stream. She stared hard at the point where she’d seen them last and they appeared on cue. Not running but not walking either, same controlled pace, keeping tight against the shadows. Only now the shadows were different, more alive. They were on the bridge before she realised what was doing it, light from flames, just a small patch ripping up to the sky from a side window. Then they were past her, moving faster than she’d realised, so soon her lungs were burning, just keeping up with them. By the time the shouts started they were well out of there, two blocks away easy and working back up along the stream, the last direction they’d think of coming, if anyone was chasing them.
‘You know how to get back from here?’ was the only thing that was said after that. Simon asked it, ten minutes later when they’d worked their way back down to the train tracks, two and a half stations up the line. Sharon nodded and that was it, they were walking away. Just like professionals would do it, half of her thought, watching them walk away. The other half thought how it might have been good if they’d invited her back to their place, or one of them had asked her if anything had happened on the bridge. She so much wanted to tell it. Or they could have said, ‘well done’. That might have been good too.