38

Damon

As I round the corner to our street I see there’s a cop car parked outside where our flat is, and I freak then – really do – because even though I know I got to go to the cops with all this stuff in my brain, I know I’m not ready for it yet. Because maybe this means that Emily’s done it instead. Can cops move this fast? Could they be looking for me already?

I skid to a stop and back up against some shop window. I breathe in cold air, feel the sting in my throat. Maybe they’ve been tracking me, seeing where I been going and how I been acting. I start shivering all over, still not proper warm from earlier. My stomach is empty as fuck.

I rub my hands over my eyes. I know what this is: the cops just want to fill me in on the case, that’s all. They’re probably even DC Kalu and DC West – the ones who interviewed me; the ones who’ve been checking in with me pretty regular. They just want to keep me informed about how everything is going. But they’ve never arrived in a regular cop car before.

I pull Ed’s joint Mack gave me from behind my ear and stick it in my pocket instead. I can’t think about that yet. But soon . . .

A crowd of kids dressed as zombies stalk past me then, jolting me, talking about some party they’ve got going on tonight. I move round them and out on to the pavement so I can look up at our kitchen window. Mum’s not at it. She’ll be in the living room instead, offering the detectives tea and saying I’ll be back soon. And I want to be back soon. I want to be back in my flat with no police there, asleep to everything. And I almost do it . . . almost just keep walking to the door and buzz the bell: I could just tell Mum where I been and what I been doing. This could be a chance, these cops being here. I could go inside and straighten out everything in my head. It could all be OK like Mack says.

I could also write my own prison sentence.

I need to be sure before I go through those cop station doors. I need to remember. Everything.

I hesitate, watching those zombie kids ’til they go round the corner. What kind of idiot tells the police the stuff that’s going round his head?

So I stay, undecided, watching a crisp packet being blown across the road. When my phone rings and I see that it’s Mum, I turn it off. Get the panics all over again, only ten times worse. It feels like they’re coming for me . . . the police, Emily, Mack, Mum . . . everyone’s closing in. It’s like I got to work out my story, and fast. It’s like I’ve only got one more chance.