We Come Apart

by Sarah Crossan

  I’ll be miles away.

  With Nicu.

  I leave registration and go straight out the

  front gate.

  Every other time I’ve bunked off

  I’ve just headed to the park for cider

  instead of going to science or whatever,

  but today it’s different.

  I’m leaving.

  For good.

  I feel sick and dizzy,

  so I go straight

  to the corner shop to get a drink.

  And then

  I wait.

  CREEPING AROUND

  Busy.

  Busy.

  Tata go out metal collecting

  most days.

  Mămică stay and do sausages, stews

  and clothes.

  Busy.

  Busy.

  So it good timing to become

  ninja boy.

  Creep around boy.

  Bunk school boy.

  Do a runner.

  If they nabbing me in this act

  I know

  I’m the goner.

  But

  X

  day

  is getting

  so closer.

  Bloody wife!

  The day Jess nerves

  shatter

  to end of her rope

  is getting

  so closer

  too.

  Bloody Terry!

  Now is time for preparing

  to do runner.

  Now is not time for

  delaying.

  I go where Tata keep his

  metal collecting cash.

  His wife buying cash:

  in bedroom,

  top of wardrobe,

  deep at back,

  in box for shoes.

  I lift box,

  open,

  and reach my hand inside.

  Hand disappears in

  tens

  fives

  fifties

  oranges

  blues

  reds

  monies

  cover all my skin.

  I stuff my bag with

  all my needs.

  I take much wedge

  and

  in bag

  squeeze shove

  it under

  jeans and jumper.

  My stomach do

  churn spin

  thinking if Tata catch me he do

  left hook

  right hook

  on it.

  But I must to escape

  X

  day.

  I must.

  With bag on my back

  I become the mouse,

  tipping toes

  on creaky floors.

  I stop even from blinking

  in case Mămică listen from kitchen

  and know I not in school like usually.

  I aching to hug her for last time

  but

  I fear to see the hurt in her eyes.

  In eyes of Tata too

  when they know

  I not wanting

  their life

  for me.

  And it vital important

  I go to Jess

  waiting

  now.

  Batman

  I’m outside Nandos

  when I see him shuffling up the road,

  a backpack over one shoulder.

  He waves at me.

  But…

  Oh, God.

  He’s wearing a cape.

  Like a proper cape –

  black and buttoned up at the neck.

  Where the hell did he get it?

  And

  what exactly did he think I meant

  by doing a runner?

  Maybe he thinks we’re gonna fight crime

  instead of commit it.

  Jesus.

  ‘All right, Batman,’ I say,

  pulling on the cape’s collar.

  He frowns.

  ‘Might get chilling at night, Jess,’ he says.

  ‘You look like you’re about to go to a bloody

  Dungeons and Dragons convention,’ I tell him.

  ‘Talk about conspicuous.’

  ‘I not understand these words,’ he says.

  ‘I ready for running though.’

  He lifts up a foot, so I can see he’s got his trainers on.

  He’s beaming

  but I don’t know what he’s so happy about.

  Does he even know what we’re doing?

  Does he get that we’re not running

  to anything

  but

  running away

  with nowhere to go.

  ‘Everything hunky dory,’ he says,

  twisting his arm around

  and

  patting his backpack.

  ‘Don’t say hunky dory,’ I snap.

  ‘Hunky dory proper English words,’ he says.

  ‘Well, coming out of your mouth

  it sounds like bullcrap,’ I say.

  I’m being mean

  but

  I can’t help it.

  He doesn’t seem to be taking this seriously and

  I’m not running away with him

  if all I’m gonna be doing is spending the next year

  stopping him from sounding like a complete moron.

  ‘How much pounds you have?’ he asks.

  I reach into the pocket of my blazer

  and pull out a handful of tenners.

  Nicu stares at the notes,

  the Queen’s superior face glaring at us.

  ‘That all you find?’ he asks.

  ‘Well, what have you got,

  Prince of Romania?’

  He throws his backpack on the ground,

  digs deep into it

  and shows me.

  ‘Where the hell did you get all that?’

  Wads of cash –

  more money than I’ve seen in my life.

  ‘It not good?’ he asks.

  ‘Good?

  It’s nuts, Nicu.

  You are bloody Batman!’

  He zips up the backpack

  and puts his hands on his hips

  like a real superhero.

  ‘Glad I making you happy, Jess,’

  is all he says.

  EYE BLINK

  The guilt give me goosebump.

  For cash in my pocket,

  for destroying dreams of Mămică and Tata.

  Also

  for stealing Tata’s

  treasure coat,

  the one he wear to village festivals.

  But here is cold and chilling most of times,

  raining and greying every day,

  so

  I needing

  this

  treasure coat for my own.

  Jess make joke when

  she see treasure coat first time

  but that is OK

  because

  big part of her is piss-taker.

  Her eyes wide open when I show my cash.

  She tell me I am

  superhero.

  But I am greedy –

  I want

  handsome, smart superhero

  AND

  gentle kissing,

  lip locking,

  hand hugging.

  Now, that would be

  amazing.

  We don’t do any tender stuff.

  No time.

  We go quick

  away.

  But

  it not so easy.

  Sometimes London North

  is too small enough

  and we can’t be

  alone.

  And we not alone

  because everyone school bunk today.

  Dan and his crew –

  Punk Rock Hair,

  Fat Belly

  and

  Neck Muscle –

  bump us in street.

  When seeing crew

 
Jess tight squeeze my arm.

  ‘Shit,’ she say.

  I feel all her finger press me.

  Crew come close.

  I pulling her stiff to me.

  Body guard her.

  ‘Don’t worry, Jess,’ I say. ‘I protect.’

  My hand wrap around,

  pressuring her waist.

  I am Jess steel suit.

  ‘You not worry, I have you,’ I say.

  Crew come close.

  ‘No, you leave this to me, Nicu,’ Jess say.

  This is what I understanding:

  ‘All right, Jess?’

  ‘What you doing with that little thief?’

  ‘Where you going?’

  This is what I also understanding:

  ‘Pikey twat.’

  ‘Immigrant wanker.’

  ‘Smack him.’

  Crew do circle on me again,

  so near

  I smell the pong of booze and smoke.

  ‘Leave him alone, Dan,’ Jess say in terror voice.

  ‘You stay out of this,’ Dan say.

  ‘Slapper,’ Fat Belly say.

  ‘Gyppo lover,’ Punk Rock Hair say.

  ‘Gyppo shagger more like,’ Muscle Neck say.

  Too many laughing.

  People in street

  seeing,

  hearing,

  witnessing,

  but flick eyes on ground and

  quick step past circle.

  It just me and my Jess.

  Alone on tiny Island.

  With no person to

  save us.

  Dan flick Jess hair,

  come close to her ear.

  Very close.

  Too close.

  His mouth, her ear.

  He make whisper.

  Jess pull back.

  ‘Fuck off, Dan, will you?’ she say.

  Her hand squash me more harder.

  ‘Come on, Nicu.’

  And we fast walk to small street,

  away from crew,

  away from whispers.

  To leave the noise behind.

  But Dan and crew don’t to leave.

  They follow.

  Behind us in silence street.

  We walk quicker.

  They speed follow.

  We stay in silent.

  They don’t quiet.

  We don’t run.

  They move so fast to be in front of us.

  All bodies stop.

  I hear words I half understanding:

  ‘Plunge the prick.’

  ‘Yeah, go on, Dan.’

  ‘Right in his fucking eye.’

  And this boy, Dan,

  who

  I have never did hurting to

  ever,

  listen to these wordings.

  He listen well good

  because

  he pull sheen blade from behind jeans.

  Jess does banshee scream.

  I feel fire

  and fear at same time.

  Blade come to me fast rapid.

  I dance

  jerk back

  slip slide

  touch

  tap

  wrestling days back.

  My hand go deep in Tata’s treasure coat.

  I feel for my Swiss Army,

  my protect.

  Shuffle feet

  left

  right

  reveal my own blade slash.

  One

  two

  like in movies.

  The wild man take my body

  to crazy land.

  I see target,

  hard advance,

  charge,

  arm straight,

  lunge,

  plunge.

  My protect

  rips

  deep

  in and

  out.

  And it sink softly.

  Stab happen in an eye blink:

  Dan falling,

  crew frozen,

  Jess calling

  my name,

  and

  us

  running …

  running …

  running …

  Jess-Jess-Jess

  I’m shouting and running,

  and Nicu’s

  behind me

  shouting back,

  and running too,

  but I can’t really hear what he’s saying

  except my name

  – Jess Jess Jess –

  over and over

  like a bloody

  siren.

  MR WOLF

  Huffing

  puffing

  I hearing still his yell

  inside my ears.

  Huffing

  puffing

  I seeing still my Swiss Army,

  one-two, in-out.

  Its picture won’t leave me.

  I can’t to breathe.

  Eating air.

  I can’t to breathe.

  Hurry

  sprint

  speed

  lights of shops shoot past eyes,

  blinding.

  I can’t to breathe.

  Blood on Our Hands

  ‘What the fuck was that?’

  I’m screaming

  and Nicu’s

  behind me

  screaming back.

  What just happened?

  Did Dan get stabbed?

  I mean,

  Wood-Green-gang-stabbed

  like the proper hood boy he pretends to be?

  Yeah,

  he deserved to get hurt,

  but why did Nicu have to be the one to do it?

  And why now,

  just as we were getting away,

  just when I thought things were looking

  up?

  We round a corner,

  leg it down an alleyway

  and almost collapse at

  the end

  of it,

  hiding between a pair of wheelie bins.

  ‘How badly did you hurt him?’ I blurt out.

  ‘Did you kill him?’

  Nicu can’t speak.

  He’s just gasping, panting,

  then punching one of the wheelie bins to bits.

  Punching and

  hollering and

  punching and

  hollering.

  I’ve no idea what he’s saying.

  ‘Stop!’ I scream

  and grab his hand.

  ‘Your hand’s bleeding,’ I say,

  feeling the blood’s slipperiness between my fingers,

  coughing up a little bubble of sick.

  He exhales.

  ‘Not my blood, Jess,’ he says.

  I close my eyes, thinking.

  Thinking.

  What do we do now?

  Where do we go?

  Mum? Dawn?

  The police?

  That’s it:

  we go to the police.

  It was self-defence,

  broad daylight.

  I hold on to Nicu

  tight,

  two hands gripping his shoulders.

  ‘We have to give ourselves up.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘If we run away

  it’ll look well suspicious.

  They’ll think we meant it.’

  He shakes his head,

  pulls his cloak

  up to hide his face.

  ‘We have to, Nicu.

  We haven’t got a choice.’

  He steps away from me,

  eyes filling with tears,

  looking like a little kid.

  ‘You have choice, Jess,

  because police believing

  white girl

  speaking good English.

  But me.

  They seeing only

  gypsy boy

  with

  criminal paper.’

  He kicks the wall.

  ‘Shit,’ I say,

  because he
’s right.

  The police wouldn’t believe him for a second,

  and not just Nicu;

  with my offender’s record

  they wouldn’t believe me either.

  We’re textbook delinquents.

  Guilty before we’ve even

  opened our mouths.

  ‘We must to go far away now,’ he says.

  ‘We can cutting hair and

  changing names

  and nobody remember

  us

  after.

  OK, Jess?’

  He wipes his hands on his cloak,

  shudders when a dog in the distance

  barks.

  ‘Yes,’ I say.

  ‘I think we have to go

  away like we planned.’

  I take his hand.

  I hold on tight.

  ‘Let’s get you cleaned up

  first,’ I say.

  ‘Let’s wash this blood off your hands.’

  SALTY SWIMMING POOLS

  She pour the water bottle over my

  blood hand.

  I not hear what she say,

  her tongue, mouth, words

  all

  happening too much fast.

  Jess is angry,

  in devastation,

  totally pissed-off with me.

  She is correct to be.

  But

  I want for her to give me

  tight hug

  and tell me

  everything going to be all right.

  Instead

  she do the big panic.

  I try rub blood off my hand.

  Again Dan’s liquid

  drop

  one

  two