There was a noise outside the door. The next parents had arrived. Mrs Farmer cleared her throat and said To sum up, James is bright and sometimes works well, though he does tend to daydream. Socially, I’d like to see him mix a little more with the other children, but he seems particularly close to a girl called Sunya. There was a knock on the door. A girl called Sonya Dad repeated and Mrs Farmer said Come in. Not Sonya, Mr Matthews. Sunya.
The handle clicked. The door opened. Oh, here’s Sunya now Mrs Farmer announced cheerfully. I spun around in my chair, the Spider-Man t-shirt stuck to the sweat on my back. Hello, Jamie Sunya’s mum said in her funny accent. Nice to see you again.
TWO WHITE HIJABS glowed in the light of the classroom. Two dark faces looked shocked as Dad leapt to his feet. How do you know my son he yelled, banging his hand on Mrs Farmer’s desk. A pile of books fell over and knocked a cup of coffee onto some important-looking papers. Mrs Farmer made a noise like a frightened dog and looked at me as though it was my fault. Sunya’s mum went Erm and I shook my head the tiniest amount so she said I don’t know him. I closed my eyes and opened them slowly and I hoped Sunya’s mum knew that it meant Thank you.
I whispered Let’s go but Dad shouted Nice to see you again. AGAIN. That’s what you said. He walked over to Sunya’s mum. She took a step backwards and grabbed Sunya’s shoulder. Mrs Farmer stood up, her hand flying to her chest. Mr Matthews, calm yourself she squeaked. Dad shouted over her. Where have you seen him before. Sunya’s mum took another step back, dragging Sunya with her. When did you meet my son. Sunya shook off her mum’s hand and said At the school football match and her voice was calm and her face was innocent and the lie was the best I had ever seen. Shut up Dad yelled and Sunya’s mum suddenly exploded. How dare you she said, her eyebrows disappearing underneath the white hijab. How dare you talk to my daughter like that. Dad laughed but it sounded evil, like when a baddie rubs his hands together and his eyes go all red and the sound that comes out of his mouth is HAHAHAHAHA. I can say what I want in my own country Dad replied. I wanted to shout It’s Sunya’s country too but Dad looked mad. Mrs Farmer squeaked I’m getting the Headmaster and she smashed the door against the wall as she ran out of the classroom.
Muslims killed my daughter Dad said, pointing at his chest. I ran over to Dad and tried to grab his arm but he pushed me away. They killed my daughter he said again, jabbing his ribs on every syllable. That’s ridiculous Sunya’s mum replied, but her voice was shaky and I knew that she was scared. I thought about the curly straw in the chocolate milkshake and I hated Dad for frightening her. Real Muslims would never, ever harm anything. Just because someone calls themselves a – she started but Dad shouted SHUT UP. He was trembling now and his face was purple. Sweat dripped off his temples and ran down his cheeks. He yelled something about Terrorists and something else about All the same and Sunya’s mum turned her head as if she had been slapped.
Sunya stood in front of a Christmas display, her fingers screwed up in tight fists. Snowflakes cut out of silver paper twinkled on the wall behind her. There were angels on the left and a Father Christmas on the right and his belly was bursting out of his red jacket and presents were bursting out of his black sack. In the middle of the display was a Mary cut out of blue cardboard and a Joseph cut out of brown cardboard and a baby Jesus cut out of cardboard that was too pink to look like skin. And it made me so sad to see Sunya next to all the Christmas things she didn’t believe in and couldn’t enjoy, and I thought about her poem and how she’d only written four lines ’cos there was nothing magical for her to look forward to in December. And even though Dad was still shouting and wind shook the windows and coffee drip drip dripped off the desk and formed a puddle on the floor, all I could hear were Sunya’s words. I wish I was normal. I wanted to walk over to her and take her fists in my hands and put the ring back on her finger and say I’m pleased you’re not.
A tear glittered in Sunya’s left eye. It swelled silver like a fat raindrop as Dad called her family Evil. I imagined shouting Don’t listen to him. I imagined saying You are just different and it is beautiful. And I imagined smashing Dad’s face in for making Sunya cry, and for one millisecond I thought I might actually do it. But I just stood there in the middle of the classroom with my heart pounding and my body shaking in the Spider-Man top that was too big for a boy like me.
The Headmaster walked into the room, his shiny shoes tapping on the floor. He said Is there a problem. Sunya’s mum didn’t speak and all I could see was the top of her hijab as she stared at the ground. I wanted her to look up so I could say Sorry with my eyes but she didn’t move. Dad said No problem at all and then grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the door and nodded at the Headmaster as though the last five minutes hadn’t happened. I hoped that the bad stuff was over, but as we walked down the corridor, Dad’s fingernails dug into the palm of my hand and it hurt. I was in trouble.
We didn’t speak in the car. The tyres spun on the snow and white slush sprayed everywhere. As soon as we pulled into the drive, Dad whispered Get inside so I jumped out and slipped on the ice and burst through the front door and ran into the lounge. Jas and Leo were lying on the sofa, their faces all red and their black clothes crumpled. Jas said I thought you had Parents’ Evening and I said Finished and Dad and pointed outside. Jas pushed Leo off the sofa with a scream.
Dad marched down the hall. Quick I said, tugging Jas’s hand. Leo chewed on the ring through his lip. The footsteps stopped. Hide Jas hissed. The door handle turned. Leo dived behind the sofa as Dad walked into the lounge.
I am not that good at Hide And Seek. I don’t like small dark places. They make me think of being buried underground so I panic and end up behind a door or somewhere rubbish. But even I am better at hiding than Leo, who didn’t even make himself small enough to fit behind the sofa. His green spikes stuck over the top of the armrest and his black boots stuck out on the carpet.
When Dad saw him, his face went from purple to black and he yelled Get up. I don’t think Leo knew that Dad was talking to him ’cos he just stayed there for ages, holding his breath and closing his eyes as if he thought he hadn’t be seen. But then Dad walked over to the sofa and grabbed the back of Leo’s t-shirt and pulled hard. Leo scrambled to his feet as Dad shouted Get out of my house. Jas said Don’t talk to him like that and Dad said I’ll talk to him however I damn well like under my roof and he pointed at the ceiling with a shaky finger.
Leo ran off and Dad shouted You are banned from my house and you are banned from seeing Jasmine. He slammed the lounge door. An old picture of the family fell off the wall and smashed. You can’t do that Jas said, furious and fiery, waving her hands around in the air. You can’t stop us from seeing each other. Dad said I think I just did and then he turned to me.
Do you love Rose he asked and I said Yes straightaway. Dad took a step forward. Do you remember how she died. His voice was low and quiet and dangerous. I swallowed but there was no spit in my mouth. I nodded my head. Dad closed his eyes and seemed to be trying to control something but it was too strong for him ’cos he started to shout and kick the sofa. LIAR. YOU’RE A LIAR, JAMES. I squashed myself against the wall. Dad threw a cushion and it hit the light shade, which swung and creaked. I’m not a liar I replied, falling to my knees as Dad charged across the carpet. The urn rattled on the mantelpiece. How can you do it then Dad yelled, his voice booming in my ears like an iPod turned up loud. If you’re telling the truth, how can you be friends with that girl.
Jas said Leave him alone and crawled to my side. She was crying and her arm shook as it wrapped around my shoulders. Did you know about this Dad roared, leaning over Jas and shouting in her face. Did you know that Jamie’s girlfriend is a Muslim. Jas looked at me but she wasn’t disappointed or angry, just curious, and she gave me a secret squeeze that said I don’t care. An effing TERRORIST Dad yelled, splattering his chin with spit. I wanted to tell Dad that he was wrong, ’cos all the terrorists I have seen on TV are men over twenty not girls under eleven
, but Dad thumped the wall just above my head and I had to hide my face.
My eyes were pressed into my kneecaps but I could hear that Dad was crying. He sniffed and snot rushed from his nostrils to his throat so when he spoke it sounded thick and sticky. You never cry about her he said and I felt guilty then, like every single thing that had gone wrong in my family was my fault. I poked myself in the eye to make them water.
You can’t love her Dad said, his voice suddenly quiet. I peeped through my fingers. Dad walked over to the mantelpiece and stared at the urn. Not if you wrote all those lies, pretending she’s still alive when she’s been dead for five years. Not if you’re friends with a Muslim. He took the urn off the mantelpiece and it trembled in his hands and his sweaty fingers left marks on the gold. Look what they did to her, James he said, holding up the urn. Look what Muslims did to your sister. He didn’t seem angry any more, just sadder than the saddest person I can think of, which right now is Spider-Man when Uncle Ben dies. Jas cried even harder and I wished my eyes could do it too.
Everything went silent and I knew that it was over but I didn’t know if it was okay to start speaking again. So I sat with my back to the wall and my palm stung and my head ached and I watched the hands of the clock tick round in a circle. After three minutes and thirty one seconds, Dad put the urn back on the mantelpiece and wiped his eyes and walked out of the lounge. I heard a glass tinkle and the clunk-fizz of a can being opened. Jas pulled me to my feet and said Let’s go to your room.
We sat on the windowsill and stared at the stars. The twins were up there and so was the lion. The silver in the sky shone on all the snow, turning the grass into diamonds. My horoscope said today was going to be awful Jas said. I didn’t think it’d be this bad though. Her breath made steamy circles on the glass. In the condensation she wrote a big J and then her name, and used the same J to write my name. All the letters dripped together and it looked cool. She said You okay and I said Yeah.
I miss Mum Jas said suddenly and it was strange ’cos I’d just been thinking the same thing. I wish she was still here. I stared at the floor. She wasn’t at Parents’ Evening I said in a small voice. Jas leaned back against the window. I didn’t think she would be. I rubbed the carpet with my toes. But maybe she got stuck on the motorway I said. If there was a traffic jam, she’d have given up and gone home. You know what she’s like. Maybe that’s what happened. Jas fiddled with a strand of pink hair. Maybe she said, but we didn’t look at each other. That flicker came back, like one of those trick birthday candles you just can’t blow out. I didn’t recognise the feeling but, whatever it was, it scared me.
We were silent for a while. Roger tiptoed across the garden, his orange feet leaving twinkling holes in the snow. He stared into the frozen pond. I wondered if my fish was alive somewhere underneath all the ice. Jas sighed. I hope Leo’s okay. I picked a thread off the cushion and said I hope Sunya is too. Then I smiled, even though it wasn’t funny. Dad must really hate us.
Yeah Jas said, crumpling her forehead. And Mum. I’d only meant it as a joke, and was about to say so when Jas rested her chin on her knees, all thoughtful and serious. When I was little, I had five teddies. Edward, Roland, Bertha, John and Burt. I didn’t understand why she was telling me about her toys. My bear was called Barney I said slowly. Jas drew five lines in the condensation on the glass. The black polish was chipped where she’d been biting her nails. I loved them all. Especially Burt, who had no eyes. But one day I lost him. I left him on a bus in Scotland when we went to visit Granny and I never saw him again. Roger disappeared under a bush, hunting. I banged on the window to make him stop. I was so upset Jas went on. Cried for hours. But I was relieved to get back to my other bears in London. She rubbed one of the lines off the glass and stared at the other four. I loved them more than ever, ’cos there was one less.
It was a pointless story so I didn’t know what to say. I kept quiet and waited. Maybe that’s how they’ll feel too she said. One day. When all the hurt goes away. I didn’t know if she was talking about the bears or Mum and Dad, but she looked young, not like my big sister at all, and I wanted her to feel nice so I just said They will. Jas squeezed her knees to her chest. You really think so she said and I nodded in a wise way. She smiled shakily and spoke all in a rush. Then they’ll love us for us without thinking about Rose and Mum’ll come home and it’ll all be okay.
We can make her come home I said suddenly, jumping off the windowsill. We can make her come home and everything will be okay. I handed her the crumpled envelope hidden underneath my pillow. She opened it up and this time when she read the words Come to Manchester to change your life, she didn’t say What a load of crap or anything like that. She listened to my plan. I got to the bit where we walk into the theatre after singing our song and Mum and Dad are holding hands ’cos they’re so proud, and this time she didn’t say That would never happen. She whispered I’d love it if they made up and closed her eyes, imagining their first hug.
Let’s do it then I said, feeling excited. The audition’s in three weeks. That’s loads of time to get a talent. Jas’s eyelids had black powder all over them. They suddenly crumpled, as if she was in pain. I can’t cope with Dad any more. All the – she hesitated and took a deep breath – drinking. It was the first time either of us had said that word and actually meant alcohol and sick and disappointment rather than hot Ribena or something. I was glad Jas had her eyes closed ’cos I didn’t know what to do with my face or my hands or the enormous truth that our dad was a drunk.
I’m only fifteen she said loudly, opening her eyes suddenly and looking fierce. You really want to enter that crap contest she asked. I nodded my head and, after a pause, my sister said Okay.
THE LAST WEEK of term was rubbish. Sunya wasn’t talking to me and I got sick of the snowballs Daniel threw at my face and the ice he put down my Spider-Man top and the fact that everyone got Christmas cards except me. There was this letterbox in the library and you pushed your cards inside and at the end of the day they got delivered to people in the class. The Headmaster would do it with a Santa hat on and he’d come into our room and say Ho ho ho. Then he’d read out the names on the cards in his hand and there were always loads for Ryan and loads for Daniel and quite a few for Sunya. This confused me at first ’cos Sunya’s been standing on her own in the playground so I was surprised she was that popular. But then I saw that all her cards were drawn in felt tips on A4 paper and were signed in her handwriting by superheroes. She sent herself one from Batman and one from Shrek and one from The Green Goblin, who everyone knows is Spider-Man’s biggest enemy. She put that one by her pencil case so I could see it.
We haven’t spoken since Parents’ Evening and she won’t use my special pencils any more. There is so much I want to tell her about Britain’s Biggest Talent Show and our plan to send a letter to Mum and leave a note for Dad to tell them to come to Manchester Palace Theatre on January 5th. I want to sing her our song and show her our dance moves and tell her that they will solve everything. When Mum’s back and Dad’s stopped drinking and they’ve forgotten all about Rose, Dad’ll be too happy to hate Sunya. He might not like us being friends but Mum’ll say Just leave them alone and Sunya will come round for tea. We will eat tropical pizzas and they will forget that she’s a Muslim.
It’s Christmas Eve in two days. I don’t think the post comes on December 24th or December 25th or December 26th and there was nothing this morning apart from one of those sad letters from a charity that asks you to think of all the starving people in Africa while you’re eating your turkey. I will try to remember them when I have my Christmas Dinner, which is going to be chicken sandwiches this year ’cos Jas’s making it. I don’t think the charity people will mind what I eat as long as I Spare A Thought For Those Dying Of Hunger while I am at the table.
If there’s no post over Christmas then that leaves tomorrow for Mum to send a present. I’m trying to get excited. I keep imagining a fat parcel on the mat by the front door, but every time I
think of the card with Happy Christmas Son in big blue letters, I get that weird flicker of something that scares me. It never really goes away now.
I asked Mrs Farmer how much warning she’d have to give the Headmaster if she needed a day off. She looked annoyed that I was talking to her and kept glancing at the display above her desk as if all the coffee splashes on the angels were my fault. Eventually she said If it was important enough, I’d be allowed time off straightaway. Now go outside and play and stop asking silly questions.
If it was important enough. I couldn’t get those words out of my head. They whizzed round my brain and made me dizzy. When we wrote stories my pen didn’t touch the paper and when we did Maths I made up the numbers and when we did Art I drew the lambs bigger than the shepherds ’cos I wasn’t concentrating. It looked like a herd of killer sheep was going to trample over the crib.
For the school play surprise surprise we acted out the stable bit and I was a person for the first time ever. I got the part of the man who said No room at the inn but no one came to watch so it didn’t matter. Jas couldn’t get back from school in time and Dad hasn’t been out of bed since Parents’ Evening. Sunya got the part of Mary at first but she wouldn’t stop groaning and holding her belly as if she was giving birth when she walked up to the inn. In the last rehearsal, Mrs Farmer pulled Sunya off the chair in the middle of the stage and made her get on all fours and told her that she was an ox and to keep at the back of the stable.
On the very last day, I was desperate to talk to Sunya, but I couldn’t think how to get started. When she wasn’t looking, I chucked my pencil underneath her chair and was about to ask her to pick it up when Mrs Farmer sent me out for throwing sharp objects around the classroom. She said You could have poked someone’s eye out, which was a lie. The pencil was blunt and anyway I threw it really low so, unless there was an invisible midget walking around, it didn’t go near anyone’s eyes. When I was allowed back into the classroom, the pencil was still by Sunya’s feet, but I didn’t dare ask for it ’cos Mrs Farmer had made it obvious that I’d chucked it there on purpose. I had to do my graph in pen and I plotted it all wrong and I couldn’t rub it out so I will get a bad mark. Doesn’t matter though. I am not interested in As any more. Jas was right about school. It’s not that important really.
My Sister Lives on the Mantelpiece Page 11
