Run, Rebel
Page 14
of perfect Christmases
and New Year celebrations.
I sit with them.
We don’t speak.
I become invisible,
sitting in the library at lunch,
reading up on how
revolutions fail when groups split.
They ask if I’m OK. I shrug.
They link arms with me. I push them away.
They ask me to hang.
I make my excuses.
Yet we are strangely
still a three.
If I asked you to lie for me, would you?
Mum is looking at me,
serious,
her brow furrowed,
her eyes anxious.
Yeah. Why?
I want to do an evening course.
In English, like you suggested.
I saw that lady Beena in town.
She said she can teach me now.
I know
she isn’t telling me
the truth.
I know
Beena doesn’t teach
the English class.
I know
Beena helps women
leave their husbands.
I feel like
I’m in the ocean
adrift, all alone,
and all the bits
and pieces that
make me who I
am are floating
all around me
and I’m trying
to grab them,
but every time
I get close
a wave comes
and washes them
further away.
Is there more
to him?
The animal
The beast
The wife-beater
The alcoholic
The threat
The monster
The man
The husband
My father?
I need
to believe
there is.
There is
more
to him.
I need
to believe
because
I thought
this was
what I
wanted.
But now
leaving
scares me
more than
staying.
Mum has me looking at
important documents in folders.
Anything with her name on.
She doesn’t tell me why,
just that she needs them.
life
feels
like
it’s
out
of
my
control
there
is
only
one
way
to
deal
with
what
I
can’t
cope
with.
I push
Gemma
into the wall
on the way
to class.
I take
away her chair
in the classroom
so she falls to the floor.
I knock
the sandwich
out of her hand
before she takes a bite.
I’m shoved
into Mrs Bird’s office.
I’ve had Gemma Griffin’s mother in to see me. Do you know why?
She’s looking at me
stony-faced.
Do you know WHY?
I’m trying really hard
to be strong,
not weak,
because otherwise I’ll cry
and I can’t cry.
Look at you. So arrogant.
Gemma’s mother has told me
that her daughter has come home crying
every day this week.
How would you like it if someone made you cry?
She’s standing right over me.
I can smell her cigarette breath.
I can see the metal fillings
and coffee stains behind her front teeth.
Well? How dare you act so cocky!
Do you want me to call your parents in?
My heart starts beating fast.
She can’t call my parents.
Dad will hit Mum,
blame her.
That bitch Gemma Griffin.
She’s going to get it for this.
Just because she can’t fight back.
Just because she’s weak.
I get sent back to art class.
I see her.
I wait.
I stare hard.
She’s got no choice.
Her eyes lock with mine
and I mouth,
You fucking wait.
My legs are like jelly
and I feel sick
down
to
my
toes.
Sometimes warm-ups
are more nerve-wracking
than the race.
I focus too much
on the other teams.
I imagine
worst-case scenarios.
Stay in lane.
If you zigzag across,
you’re running further and
risk getting tripped up,
or worse,
getting disqualified.
I see David on the sideline.
Good luck, he mouths.
I try to focus.
On your marks.
Get set.
Go!
Arms pumping
feet thumping
vision blurred.
I can’t quite
catch my breath.
I see Miss Sutton
out of the corner of my eye,
waving her arms.
White lines blur
as my ankle catches
with another runner
and we both
go tumbling
to the ground.
On the minibus
back to school,
I’m mortified.
Can’t look at anyone,
can’t speak to anyone.
It’s not the end of the world, Amber.
Miss Sutton being all kind
isn’t helping.
How can you say that?
I got disqualified from my first race.
We all make mistakes.
The real test is how you come back from this,
she says.
I see David about to put his hand
on my shoulder and then draw back.
I stare at him.
He looks down.
Guilty.
It feels like my whole world
is crumbling around me.
David calls to me
as I step off the minibus
I’m sorry, I know I’ve been off.
Whatever, I don’t care.
It’s just … It’s just I’m scared is all.
What have you got to be scared of?
Not me, I’m scared for you.
I should be grateful
but I’m embarrassed.
I’m fine. You don’t have to worry.
I’ll walk ahead so you don’t have to.
Don’t push me away.
Don’t push Tara away.
We both really care about you.
I just don’t know
how to be around you.
I’m so scared for you –
I want to protect you –
but my mum –
Your mum what?
Nothing –
she just said –
you were going to need your friends.
So I’m sorry –
tell me how to be –
tell me what to do –
and I’ll do it.
I look into his eyes.
I’d do anything
for one of his
too-tight hugs.
We keep our distance.
I’m sorry,
I say. I’m desperate
to have my friends back.
Just be you and
I’ll be me.
A rushed affair
organized in four months.
I hear the talk,
the chatter,
the gossip.
She’s learned her lesson. That’s for sure.
She’s a good girl now.
I’m surprised they managed to find someone willing.
Damaged goods.
At least they chose a good date.
Should bring them good luck.
February 14th.
It couldn’t feel less romantic.
I don’t think I’ve seen Harpreet smile
once during the ceremony.
Come to think of it,
I don’t think
I’ve seen her look up.
I write a note for Dad
to give to the boiler man
in the morning.
I tell him I can’t stay home from school.
Not any more.
He tries to argue.
I stand my ground.
Just give him this note,
I say.
Dear gasman,
My father doesn’t speak English. One of the radiators is leaking. The one in the small bedroom. The radiators don’t get very hot even when the thermostat is at number 5.
The boiler sometimes makes a rattling sound when you turn it on. It lasts about thirty seconds. Lately it’s been getting louder.
Please write your findings below and the work you have carried out.
Yours sincerely,
Amber (daughter)
I stick it on the fridge
and go to my room,
shutting the door
on all the name-calling
and swearing
firing at me from the kitchen.
I’m woken early
by the clink of the tiffin box
and the whistle of the kettle.
As I creep downstairs,
I hear Mum picking out
letters and trying to
sound out words
with the note
for the gasman
in her hand.
I hold a bit back,
like ten per cent.
Everyone goes full pelt
at the beginning.
My trick:
save the energy for later.
Give the others some
false hope, then BAM –
last twenty metres
I charge up,
electrify my feet.
My trainers spark
as I gain,
still in lane
and whizzing past.
So fast they don’t even see me
cross the finish line
like a firework.
The county team managers confirm
we’ve made it
to the second round of the
inter-school competitions.
Singing
and stupid selfies
on the minibus
back home.
Wishing the ride
would last an eternity.
David and I
are as high
as kites.
So high
I don’t even
notice we’ve been
holding hands
the entire
way back to school.
We walk to our
secret place
in the grounds of
St Martin’s.
The air around us
is different.
My legs feel shaky
and my heart is
beating faster than during a
one-hundred-metre sprint.
You’re back.
I never went anywhere.
Yes you did.
Listen, I’ve wanted to give you something for ages.
He hands me an envelope.
I open it.
Inside is a signed postcard
from Allie Reid!
To Amber
Much love
A. R.
Oh my God!
This is amazing!!
Turn it over.
Read the other side.
You’re more than just
my sister from another mister.
You know that, right?
I’m speechless.
Wow, it’s really special. You know she’s my idol.
Is that all you liked about it?
What about what I wrote?
We’re like best mates?
I didn’t want to say anything, but Tara said something about how a life lived with regret is a life half lived or something, and I just knew that, even if nothing can happen, you needed to know.
Tara said that?
Yeah, sorry, I had to confide in someone.
I thought you liked Tara.
No. It’s always been you.
We sit,
not talking,
holding hands
for I don’t know how long.
Will he
kiss me?
It doesn’t
bother me
that I might
be home late.
I don’t want
to move
from this spot.
I don’t feel
my feet touch tarmac
as I float
home.
There is no one
in the house
and I ignore
what the air
around me
already knows.
Because nothing
is going to
take away
this feeling.
I listen to Mum
read a picture book.
It’s a step up
from the other books.
I help her to
break up words
into smaller chunks
by covering letters
with my thumb.
We hear a key in the lock.
We look at one another –
we weren’t expecting him back
this early.
In a panic we throw
the book under the settee.
The door slams,
causing Mum and me
to jump
out of our skin.
Mum tries to
calm him down.
I’m running
up the stairs,
need to get into the bedroom –
barricade the door.
A chair,
a washing basket,
stool …
sit on the chair,
use your body weight
use your body weight
use your body weight
against Dad pushing on the door.
I’ve been found out.
Someone spotted me at a competition.
Dad’s telling me I’ve got the devil inside me.
I hear Mum
telling him to calm down,
threatening to call the police.
I’m losing strength.
I can’t hold on to the door.
I fall off the chair,
dive on to the bed
and wrap the duvet round me.
Time stops.
He says Mum can’t help me now.
He says I should have listened.
He says I have the devil inside me.
He says I have to go to the temple.
He says I have to pray.
He says I have to pray to get the devil out of me.
I sit.
I pray.
I pray
for a
way
OUT.
Mum tells me to keep
<
br /> doing what I’m doing.
But fear
follows me into school,
every training session,
every competition.
I keep thinking I see
The Man.
I relive the stories.
I have nightmares.
He haunts
my dreams and
my every waking moment.
Inflicting pain on others
halves your own hurt
and doubles your
self-worth.
I’ve got Gemma Griffin cornered
outside the girls’ loos.
Why won’t you fight back?!
She looks at me,
trying really hard not to cry.
So I punch her,
hard in the stomach.
I’ve never hit anyone in my life.
It’s soft.
She is soft.
Why are you doing this?
Leave me alone!
She’s red-faced.
Standing strong.
This ends.
Now.
She pushes me.
I fall to the floor.
Everyone watching.
Her hand in a fist.
She’s still,
heavy-breathing.
Do it, I think.
Do it. Hit me,
so we can be the same.
She picks up her bag.
You’re not worth it.
She shoots me one last look
and walks away.
Tara and David
are there
with arms
round me
giving me
everything
I don’t deserve.
Do you want me to read it for you?
I ask.
Mum says,
No, I want to look at it on my own.
This says … best … S … S … guh … O … What are these words?
Spring Offers. Best Spring Offers.
What is this word?
Chicken.
That’s how you spell chicken?
Yes.
And I watch her studying the leaflet.
She looks up.
What? You’re thinking I’m stupid?
No!
I’m thinking how proud I am.
She has fire in her belly.
I think she sees
all she can
become.
Turn the volume down,
turn the telly off.
He stands in the doorway,
swaying.
No more.
The last time.
No