‘You better clean up afterwards,’ James said. ‘Mum blew her stack last time you made them.’
*
When James turned into his road it was nearly dark. Two guys came out from behind a hedge. One of them grabbed James and knocked him against a wall, pulling his arm tight behind his back.
‘Hello, James,’ he said, his mouth up against James’ ear. ‘We’ve been waiting for you.’
The other guy grabbed Lauren and stuck his hand over her mouth to stop her screaming.
James’ opinion of his own intelligence hit an all-time low. While he’d been worrying about getting in trouble with Mum, school and maybe even with the police, he’d forgotten something: Samantha Jennings had a sixteen-year-old brother.
Greg Jennings hung out with a gang of crazies. They were kings of the estate where James lived: smashing up cars, mugging people, getting into fights. If another kid saw them he’d look down at his shoes, cross his fingers and be happy if all he came away with was a slapped face and his money taxed. A good way to upset the gang was to beat up one of their little sisters.
Greg Jennings grazed James’ face along the bricks.
‘It’s your turn now, James.’
He let go of James’ arm. James could feel blood dribbling down his nose and cheek. There was no point struggling: Greg could snap him like a twig.
‘Scared?’ Greg asked. ‘You ought to be.’
James tried to speak, only his voice didn’t work and the way he was trembling seemed to answer anyway.
‘Got money?’ Greg asked.
James took out the rest of the forty pounds.
‘Nice one,’ Greg said.
‘Please don’t hurt my sister,’ James begged.
‘My sister has eight stitches in her face,’ Greg said, pulling a knife out of his pocket. ‘Lucky I don’t go round hurting little girls, or your sister might have ended up with eighty.’
Greg sliced off James’ school tie. Then he cut the chest buttons off his shirt and slashed up his trousers.
‘This is just the start, James,’ Greg said. ‘We’re gonna be seeing a lot of each other.’
A fist smashed into James’ stomach. Ron had hit James a few times, but never that hard. Greg and his henchman walked off. James crumpled up on the ground.
Lauren walked over to James. She didn’t have much sympathy for him.
‘You got in a row with Samantha Jennings?’
James looked up at his sister. He was in a lot of pain and ashamed of himself.
‘She got cut by accident. I only meant to scare her.’
Lauren started walking away.
‘Help me up, Lauren. I can’t walk.’
‘Crawl then.’
Lauren went a few more paces before she realised she couldn’t abandon her brother, even if he was an idiot. James stumbled towards home with his arm round Lauren’s back. It took all her strength to hold him up.
3. WORSE
James stumbled into the hallway, one hand clasped over his stomach. He glanced at the display on his mum’s mobile:
48 MISSED CALLS
4 TEXTS
He turned the phone off and stuck his head in the living room. The light was off, TV on. His mum was asleep in her chair and there was no sign of Ron.
‘He’s gone,’ James said.
‘Thank god for that,’ Lauren said. ‘He always kisses me and his breath’s revolting.’
Lauren pushed the front door shut and picked a handwritten note off the doormat.
‘It’s from your school.’
Lauren read aloud, struggling with the messy handwriting:
‘Dear Mrs Choke, Please contact either the School Secretary or myself urgently on one of the numbers below, con … Con something?’
‘Concerning,’ James guessed.
‘Concerning James’ behaviour at school today,’ Lauren continued. ‘Michael Rook, Deputy Head Teacher.’
Lauren followed James into the kitchen. James ran a glass of tap water and slumped at the table. Lauren sat opposite and kicked off her trainers.
‘Mum will absolutely massacre you,’ Lauren grinned. She was looking forward to seeing James suffer.
‘Can’t you shut up? I’m trying not to think about it.’
*
James locked himself in the bathroom. He was shocked by what the mirror showed him. The left side of his face and the ends of his cropped blond hair were blood red. He emptied his pockets and stuffed his wrecked clothes in a bin-liner. He’d hide them under the other rubbish later so his mum didn’t find them.
Ending up in this mess made James start asking questions about himself. He knew he wasn’t a very good person. He was always getting in fights. He was clever, but he never did any work so he got bad marks. James remembered all the times his teachers had told him he was wasting his potential and that he’d end up in a bad way. He’d sat through billions of lectures with his brain turned off. Now he was beginning to think they were mostly right and that made him hate them even more.
James unscrewed the cap on a tube of antiseptic, but realised it was pointless without washing off the blood first. The hot shower soothed his face and stomach as a red puddle whirled around his feet.
James wasn’t sure if god existed, but he couldn’t see how everything just got here without something making it. If there was ever a time to pray this was it. He wondered if you were supposed to pray while naked in the shower, but figured what the hell and pressed his wet hands together.
‘Hello, God … I’m not always good. Not ever really. Just help me be good and stuff. Help me be a better person. Cheers … Amen. And please don’t let Greg Jennings kill me.’
James looked awkwardly at his hands, not convinced about the power of prayer.
*
After the shower, James put on his favourite clothes: an Arsenal shirt and a pair of tatty Nike tracksuit bottoms. He’d had to hide them from his mum. She chucked out anything that didn’t look as if it had been shoplifted the previous week. She never understood that it was cooler if some of your clothes were a bit on the shabby side.
After milk, two of Lauren’s toasted sandwiches and half an hour playing GT4 with his duvet over him, James felt a bit better. Except his stomach killed if he moved suddenly and he wasn’t looking forward to telling his mum what he’d done when she woke up. Not that she looked like waking up soon. She must have had loads to drink.
James crashed his car into the barrier and six cars whizzed past, leaving him in last place. He hurled the joypad. He always got that corner wrong. The computer-controlled cars went round like they were on rails, which made it seem like the game was rubbing it in. It was boring playing alone, but there was no point asking Lauren. She hated computer games. She only ever wanted to play football or draw.
James grabbed his mobile and called his friend Sam. Sam lived down the balcony and was in James’ class.
‘Hello, Mr Smith. It’s James Choke. Is Sam there?’
Sam picked up the phone in his bedroom, sounding excited.
‘Hey there, psycho,’ Sam said, laughing. ‘You are in soooo much trouble.’
That wasn’t how James wanted the conversation to start.
‘What happened after I left?’
‘Man, it was the sickest thing ever. Samantha had blood gushing out of her face. Down her arms, everywhere. They took her in an ambulance. Miss Voolt hurt her back, she was crying and going: This is the last straw. I’m taking early retirement. Both the Deputy Heads and the Headmaster came in. The Headmaster saw Miles laughing and gave him a three day suspension.’
James couldn’t believe it. ‘Three days’ suspension for laughing?’
‘He was livid. You’re totally expelled, James.’
‘No way.’
‘Yes way, psycho. You never even made it to your first half-term. That’s got to be the record for getting expelled. Did your mum give you beats?’
‘She doesn’t know yet. She’s asleep.’
Sam burst ou
t laughing again, ‘Asleep! Don’t you think she might want you to wake her up to tell her you’ve been expelled?’
‘She won’t care,’ James lied, trying to sound cool. ‘So you wanna come over and play Playstation?’
Sam’s voice got more serious, ‘No, man, I’ve got homework.’
James laughed. ‘You never do homework.’
‘I started. The folks are pressuring me. Birthday presents hang in the balance.’
James knew Sam was lying but couldn’t figure out why. Normally, Sam asked his mum if he could come and she always said yes.
‘What? What have I done to upset you?’
‘It’s not that, James, but …’
‘But what, Sam?’
‘Isn’t it obvious?’
‘No.’
‘You’re a mate, James, but we can’t hang out until this dies down.’
‘Why the hell not?’
‘Because Greg Jennings is going to totally mash you and if I’m seen with you I’ll be dead as well.’
‘You could help me stand up to him,’ James said.
Sam thought this was the funniest thing yet.
‘My skinny arse is not gonna make any difference against those guys. I really like you, James. You’re a good friend, but at the moment being your friend is a suicide mission.’
‘Thanks for your help, Sam.’
‘Should have switched your brain on before you decided to stab the hardest kid in school’s little sister on a rusty nail.’
‘I never meant to hurt her. It was an accident.’
‘Ring me back when you get Greg Jennings to believe that.’
‘I can’t believe you’re doing this to me, Sam.’
‘You’d do the same if it was me. And you know it.’
‘So that’s it. I’m a leper.’
‘It’s a toughie, James. Sorry.’
‘Yeah.’
‘We can talk on the phone. I still like you.’
‘Thanks, Sam.’
‘I better go. Bye, James. I’m really sorry.’
‘Enjoy your homework.’
James ended the call and wondered about praying again.
*
James watched rubbish TV until he fell asleep. He had a dream where Greg Jennings stood on his guts, and woke with a jolt.
He needed to pee bad. The pain in his guts was fifty times worse than earlier. The first drop of piss hitting the toilet was red. James did a double-take. Bright red. He was peeing blood. After he’d been to the toilet the pain was mostly gone, but he was scared. He had to tell his mum.
The TV in the living room was still turned up loud. James flicked it off.
‘Mum,’ James said.
James felt weird. His mum was too quiet. He touched her hand. Cold. He put his hand in front of her face. She wasn’t breathing. No pulse. Nothing.
*
James hugged Lauren in the back of the ambulance. Their mum’s corpse was two feet away with a blanket on top. Lauren’s hands clawed into James’ back. James was freaking, but he tried to keep a lid on himself to stop Lauren getting worse.
When the ambulance arrived at casualty, James watched his mum get wheeled off on a trolley. He realised this was going to be his final memory of her: a bulging blanket lit by flashing blue bulbs.
James had to step off the ambulance with Lauren holding on. There was no way she was letting go. She’d stopped crying and was panting like an animal.
Lauren walked like a zombie. The driver led them through the waiting room to a cubicle. A doctor was waiting. She knew what had happened.
‘I’m Dr May. You must be Lauren and James.’
James rubbed Lauren’s shoulder to try and calm her down.
‘Lauren, can you let go of your brother so we can talk?’
Lauren acted deaf.
‘It’s like she’s dead,’ James said.
‘She’s in shock. I’ll have to give her something to calm down or she’ll pass out.’
Dr May picked a syringe off a trolley and pulled up the sleeve of Lauren’s T-shirt.
‘Hold her still.’
As soon as the needle went in, Lauren went limp. James leaned her down on the bed. Dr May picked up Lauren’s legs and covered her with a blanket.
‘Thank you,’ James said.
‘You told that ambulance driver that you had some blood in your urine,’ Dr May said.
‘Yeah.’
‘Did something hit you in the stomach?’
‘Someone,’ James said. ‘I got in a fight. Is it bad?
‘When you were hit your insides started to bleed. It’s the same as a cut on the outside. It should heal itself. Come back here if it hasn’t stopped by tomorrow night.’
‘So what happens to us now?’ James asked.
‘There’s a social worker coming to see you. She’ll contact your relatives.’
‘I don’t have relatives. My nan died last year and I don’t know who my dad is.’
4. CARE
James woke up the next morning in a strange bed with sheets that smelled of disinfectant. He had no idea where he was. The last thing he remembered was a nurse giving him a sleeping pill and walking towards a car with his head weighing a million tons.
He had his clothes on, but his trainers were on the floor. He took his head out of the covers and saw another bed with Lauren poking out of it. She was sleeping with her thumb in her mouth. James hadn’t seen her do that since she was little. Whatever dreams Lauren was having, the thumb wasn’t a good sign.
He got out of bed. The pill had made him dull, his jaw felt stiff and there was a weird ache in his forehead. The room was bright, even though the curtains were drawn. James slid a door and found the shower and toilet. He was relieved to see that his pee came out the normal colour. James splashed water on his face. He knew he ought to be upset about his mum dying, but he felt dead inside. Everything felt so unreal it was like sitting in an armchair watching himself on television.
James peeked out of the window. Tons of kids were running around. He remembered that one of his mum’s favourite threats was to stick him in a home if he didn’t behave.
A buzzer sounded when James went out of the room. A care worker came out of an office and offered him her hand. James shook it, a bit stunned by her purple hair and the metalwork hanging off each ear.
‘Hello, James, I’m Rachel. Welcome to Nebraska House. How are you?’ James shrugged.
‘I’m really sorry about what happened to your mum.’
‘Thank you, Miss.’
Rachel laughed.
‘You’re not at school here, James. They call me all sorts of rude things, but never Miss.’
‘Sorry.’
‘I’ll give you the tour, then you can have some breakfast. You hungry?’
‘A bit,’ James said.
‘Listen, James,’ Rachel said, as she walked. ‘This place is a dump and I know your life seems horrible now, but there are lots of good people here to help you.’
‘Right,’ James said.
‘Our luxury spa,’ said Rachel.
She pointed out of the window at a paddling pool filled with rainwater and cigarette ends. James smiled a bit. Rachel seemed nice, even though she probably used the same lines on every freak that ended up here.
‘State of the art sports complex. Strictly out of bounds until homework is finished.’
They walked through a room with a dart board and two pool tables. The green felt was stuck down with carpet tape and there was an umbrella stand filled with tipless and split cues.
‘All the rooms are upstairs. Boys first floor, girls second. The baths and showers are down here,’ Rachel continued. ‘We usually have trouble getting you lads into them.’
‘My room has a shower in it,’ James said.
‘That room’s the reception for new arrivals. You only get one night in there.’
They reached the dining room. There were a couple of dozen kids, mostly in school uniform. Rachel pointed everythi
ng out.
‘Cutlery there, hot food at the bar, cereal and fruit juice. Make your own toast if you want it.’
‘Cool,’ James said.
He didn’t feel cool. The room full of strange, noisy kids was intimidating.
‘When you’ve eaten, see me in my office.’
‘What about my sister?’ James asked.
‘If she wakes up I’ll bring her to you.’
James got some Frosties and sat on his own. The other kids ignored him. New arrivals were obviously nothing unusual.
*
Rachel was on the phone. Her desk was stacked with papers and folders. A cigarette burned in an ashtray. Rachel put the phone down and took a puff. She saw James glance at the No Smoking sign.
‘If they sack me they’ll be six staff short,’ she said. ‘Do you want a cigarette?’
James was shocked to be offered a cigarette by an adult.
‘I don’t smoke.’
‘Good,’ Rachel said. ‘They give you cancer, but we’d rather give them to you than have you stealing them from shops. Shift my junk, make yourself comfortable.’
James moved a pile from the chair with the least stuff on it and sat down.
‘How do you feel, James?’
‘I think the sleeping pill they gave me is making me groggy.’
‘That’ll wear off. I really mean how do you feel about what happened to your mum?’
James shrugged, ‘Bad, I guess.’
‘The important thing is not to keep it to yourself. We’ll schedule some time with a counsellor, but you can chat to any of us house parents in the meantime. Even if it’s three in the morning.’
‘Does anyone know why she died?’ James asked.
‘As far as I understand, your mum was taking pain killers for an ulcer on her leg.’
‘She wasn’t supposed to drink,’ James said. ‘It’s something to do with that, isn’t it?’
‘The pain killers and the alcohol mixed up put your mum into a deep sleep. Her heart stopped beating. If it’s any comfort, your mother wouldn’t have suffered.’
‘What happens to us?’ James asked.
‘I don’t believe you have any relatives.’
CHERUB: The Recruit Page 2
