A Thousand Water Bombs (8 page)

‘Sorry,’ said Bee.‘We’re having cakes and then I’ve got to go home. It’s not our fault Copper Pie went off with Callum and left Tribe to —’

‘Rot,’ said Fifty. I was thinking of ‘stew’.

‘No, it’s my fault. I just said that. And the cakes can wait because I’m not going back without you lot, and that’s that.’ Copper Pie’s dad wasn’t
taking ‘no’ for an answer.

‘OK,’ said Jonno.

‘Same,’ said Fifty.

‘Doesn’t look like I’ve got a choice,’ said Bee. She narrowed her eyes.

‘Bee, that face could kill a crow,’ said Copper Pie’s dad. I’d never heard that expression before but I liked it.

We all clambered into Copper Pie’s dad’s van. Bee sat in the front.

‘So how’s your dad?’ Copper Pie’s dad asked Bee.

‘He’s at home for now. But the twins have only got till next Wednesday to find somewhere else to live or he’s off again.’

‘That’s a rum deal,’ said Copper Pie’s dad.

‘For who?’ said Bee.

‘For the lot of you. It’s not fair on you or your mum, but your dad’s got a point. Those brothers of yours are old enough to fly the nest.’

Bee
always
sticks up for her mum, but not this time. She stayed quiet.

‘Excuse me,’ said Fifty from the back. ‘Why didn’t the talent scout come?’

A big sigh. ‘Everything that could go wrong, did. The game kicked off late. The parents of the player Simon was interested in wanted a word that turned into a blinking book and then we got
stuck in a queue behind an overturned caravan. Crawled along for two hours.’

‘Not your fault then,’ said Jonno.

‘No. Not that bit. But I’m definitely in the frame for the rest. That Charlie’s on your side too, even though his brother tortures him. Last time I interfere – Copper Pie
can be a dustman for all I care. Waste of a good left-footer, though.’

Copper Pie’s dad cut the engine. We were there. But no one got out.

‘Come on.’

We went in through the back door. Charlie was having a snack. It looked like Marmite spread on raw carrot. Copper Pie’s mum was washing up.

‘Hi Charlie,’ I said.

‘Heyyo Keener. Can we pway marble wun?’

‘In a minute maybe.’

‘Copper Pie! Get down here,’ shouted his mum.

We waited.

‘What’s that, Charlie?’ said Bee.

‘Ca-wots.’

‘And what’s the brown stuff?’

‘Choc-yit sauce.’

‘Nice,’ said Fifty.

Copper Pie shuffled in, and his trainers made a squeaky rubber noise as they scraped along the chessboard floor. I was worried he’d leave black streaks on the white squares but I
didn’t spot any. I waited for his shouty mum to tell him to pick his feet up.

‘You’ve made your point,’ said Copper Pie’s dad. ‘Pick those feet up and stop the wounded soldier act. I’ve brought your friends.’

C.P. jerked his head up and we locked eyes. I smiled. I mean, I don’t want to go on and on, but he is my oldest friend. What would you do?

‘Hi there,’ I said.

He nodded.

‘Go on then, Keener,’ said Copper Pie’s dad. ‘Tell him it’s all forgotten and forgiven.’

But it isn’t,
I thought. I had a quick recce to see what the others were expecting me to say. It was hard to tell. Bee looked mean. Jonno looked normal (I mean the same as he
usually does, which is actually not normal at all: big mad hair, specs falling off his nose). Fifty looked uncomfortable. Copper Pie’s mum looked scary (the same as normal). His dad was
smiling at me in an encouraging way. I needed some time to think things through. The Tribers were still miffed with Copper Pie so I couldn’t say everything was all right, because it
wasn’t. Say nothing – that seemed the best idea, even though it’s rude not to answer.

If only someone else would speak . . .

‘Keener, can we pway the marble wun now pwease?’

Thank you, Charlie!

‘OK,’ I said. ‘Shall we do it in your room?’ I was already reaching for the box and heading for the door.

‘Yes pwease,’ said Charlie.

‘You coming?’ I said to the others. Copper Pie had no choice – I grabbed his elbow on my way out of the kitchen. Charlie followed. (He is probably the nicest person in the
family.) I hoped the others would come. Surely the Tribers all wanted us to be back together? Especially as Copper Pie’s dad had said everything was his fault. Copper Pie didn’t
want
to play with Callum. He was bullied into it.

‘Sorry about the scout,’ I said, as we headed for the stairs.

‘Dun’t matter,’ said Copper Pie.

‘It does matter,’ I said. ‘I was hoping to be your manager or chauffeur or something and have loads of money and all that.’

He thumped me.
Why does he do that?
I don’t like pain. Everyone knows that.

‘I’d never employ you. I’d have fat guys in shiny suits and shades looking after me.’

I laughed. Not because it was funny. But because we were chatting for the first time in what seemed like
forever
.

‘Can I be the dwi-ver?’ said Charlie.

‘If you can reach the pedals, maybe.’ That was the nicest thing I’d ever heard C.P. say to his brother. Charlie smiled a big cheesy smile.

I made it up the stairs without tripping on any of the latest obstacles: a satsuma skin, a Lego Indiana Jones, a bucket, one roller blade and a dummy, sat on the floor and started making
Charlie’s marble run. No one else came up.

‘So will the scout come another day?’

‘I don’t reckon so.’

‘Why not?’

‘He says I’m too young really. Need a few more years before a proper club would take me on.’

‘He should have said that before. Then you could have done the water bombs and you wouldn’t be the outcast Triber.’

I meant it as a joke but when I heard it out loud it didn’t sound funny. It sounded serious. It sounded final.

‘Am I out then?’ said my ginger friend who saved me from Annabel Ellis and ate all the bits of lunch I didn’t like
every
day.

‘’Course not,’ I lied.

‘How come you’re the only one up here then?’

‘I’m here,’ said Charlie.

‘You don’t count. You wear a nappy.’

Charlie looked down at his nappy and started to peel off the sticky bit at the side.

‘No, no, no,’ I said. ‘You do count, Charlie. Really.’

He went back to plopping marbles down the three runs that I’d made interconnect. It was hypnotising. Either that or I was busy trying to avoid the subject of Tribe.

‘D’you think they’ve gone home?’ said Copper Pie. He was trying to sound normal but inside he was sick – I could tell. Sick at the thought that he wasn’t a
Triber any more.

Yes, I do,
I thought but I didn’t say it. I mean, they were hardly going to be having tea and scones downstairs with Shouty Shouty.

‘So you’re an outcast too then?’

I hadn’t thought of that. Did siding with Copper Pie make me a non-Triber? A panicky feeling came over me. I wanted us
all
to be friends again. But if being with Copper Pie meant I
wasn’t friends with Jonno, Bee and Fifty then I wasn’t ready for that.

two giant yellow rubber gloves

I jumped up and ran downstairs. I had to know what had happened to the others. I stopped at the bottom of the staircase – I could hear the Tribers laughing. That
wasn’t what I was expecting.

Were they laughing at the way I’d trotted off with Copper Pie, like a pet, after everything he’d done?

Something stopped me going in. Worry, I suppose. I try not to worry any more. I try and chase away all the horrible thoughts by making up rubbish words. Anything to keep the worry bit of my
brain occupied.

Bee’s voice rang out. ‘It’s Keener.’

More laughter. I pricked up my ears, like a dog.

‘Total nerd.’ That was Fifty. So much for friends. They were laughing about me behind my back. Cowards.

Coward is a horrible word. I decided not to be one. They’d obviously ganged up together and I was the one they were having a go at. Well, they could say it to my face. I barged in. But no
one noticed me. They were too busy studying something on the kitchen table. Copper Pie’s parents were nowhere to be seen. I coughed.

‘Keener, just in time. Look at this one.’

Fifty made a space so I could see.
Oh great!
That was all I needed. A photo of me in Reception, with my hands in two giant yellow rubber gloves. Ha ha. So I didn’t like glue. Who
cares?

The table was covered in old photos. I saw a flash of orange and green: Copper Pie in a Tyrannosaurus Rex costume. Classic. I could feel a grin starting. I remembered that birthday party. I was
sick on the way home.

‘Who’s that?’ said Jonno, pointing at a picture of a little boy dressed up as a ladybird.

A guffaw exploded from somewhere deep inside. I managed to squeeze out, ‘It’s Fifty.’ Fifty’s hair was like a ginormous black woolly hat and his cheeks were all rosy.

‘You should have been a girl,’ said Bee, grabbing it.

‘So cute,’ said Jonno.

‘Wait till you see Bee. She was a giraffe. She must be in one of them.’ Fifty started shuffling all the photos. ‘Here she is.’

‘Too much,’ said Jonno, holding his middle. Bee’s face was poking out of the middle of some spotty brown fur. She didn’t have any hair because it was all tucked up into
the giraffe head.

‘What’s so funny?’ said Copper Pie, to our backs.

I held up the dinosaur pic.

‘That was my animal birthday party,’ he said. ‘Let’s see.’ He took it. The table was like a diary of our lives. There was every party, every Christmas play (Bee as
an angel!), the time we went sledging in bobble hats and mittens using trays and bin bags, Charlie’s christening (with me holding him and Bee feeding him a bottle). We had to explain
everything to Jonno, the only Triber who wasn’t around to see it all. I don’t know how long we sat there but eventually, when we’d been through the lot, someone said they were
hungry and we remembered the cakes at the Tribehouse. Bee packed the photos away in the shoebox and put it back on the top of one of the cupboards.

‘Let’s go,’ she said. ‘To the Tribehouse!’

‘Come on, Copper Pie,’ said Fifty.

He looked at the Tribers, one at a time.

‘Am I still in? Still a Triber?’

‘Looks like it,’ said Bee. ‘I can’t see any pictures of Callum in your mum’s box so I reckon you must be one of us.’

‘I didn’t want to do it. Dad made me.’

‘We know,’ said Fifty. He paused then added, ‘Now.’

‘You could try talking to us next time,’ said Jonno.

‘There won’t be no next time,’ said Copper Pie.

I chose a cake with a Flake on top. It was absolutely delicious. Helped by the fact the Tribers were in the Tribehouse, all together again.

‘She’s clever, your mum,’ said Jonno.

‘That’s not what most people say,’ said Copper Pie. ‘Most people say she shouts.’

‘But she got out that box, didn’t she? And everyone remembered how long you’ve been friends and all the stuff you’ve done together. She helped sort it out.’

‘I s’pose.’

‘I wish I had old friends.’

We all looked at Jonno. Who was as much a part of Tribe as all of us, even though we’d only known him a few weeks. Fifty put it into words.

‘Once you join, you can’t leave. Even if you disappear for a while with our number one enemy, like Copper Pie here, you’re still a Triber. So you’ll have old friends,
Jonno. You’ll have us, till you die.’

‘Unless we go first,’ said Bee.

‘Can we not talk about dying?’ I said. ‘Can we just eat the rest of the cakes?’

Copper Pie flopped his hand down. We all followed. The Tribe handshake said it all.

Bee’s mum is sad

We were on our way home from school.

‘I love Tuesdays,’ I said. It’s the day we do D.T. ‘All I need is a layer of glaze to make it shiny and my Spitfire will be finished. I can’t wait.’

‘Good for you,’ said Fifty. His fire engine looked more like a vandalised post box. ‘I can’t wait to burn mine.’

‘You can burn mine too,’ said Copper Pie. His chip van mysteriously got crushed between lessons. (We suspected Jamie, working on Callum’s orders.) Bee finished hers ages ago.
She chose a boat for her vehicle, which was a good idea because wheels are difficult.

We stopped halfway down the alley to chat to Sass who’s this really cool girl at the senior school. We used to be scared of her but ever since we gave her and her mates some cupcakes, made
by the one and only
Bee the Baker
, she’s been a mate.

‘Hey Tribers, how goes it?’

‘Good,’ said Jonno.

‘Were you at the fair?’ said Bee. ‘I thought I saw you.’

‘Yeah, Mum made me take my brother. He spent the whole time trying to score against that goalie. I saw you guys with a table full of —’

‘Rubbish,’ said Fifty.

‘I’d have come over but . . .’ She shrugged. ‘Anyway, it looked like there was trouble brewing.’

‘Trouble’s one word for it,’ said Jonno. ‘War would be the other.’

Sass laughed. I think Jonno
really
likes her – if you get what I mean.

‘We gave up and sold the stall in the end,’ said Bee.

Fifty finished off the story. ‘This car-booter with wads of cash took the lot off us for thirty-five quid.’

‘You lot always manage to swing things your way. How d’ya do it?’

We grinned at each other.

‘OK. I get it,’ she said. ‘It’s the Tribe thing.’

She walked with us to the other end of the alley where we almost ran straight into . . . Bee’s mum.

‘What are you doing here?’ said Bee.

I’d never seen her mum anywhere near school before. As far as I can make out she’s either at work, or cooking, or shopping.

‘They’ve gone.’ Bee’s mum started sniffing.

‘Who’ve gone, Mum?’

‘The boys.’ Proper crying started.
Time for a quick exit.
I grabbed Fifty’s arm. Copper Pie didn’t need grabbing, he’d already sloped off round the corner.
Sass had disappeared too.

‘See you tomorrow, Bee,’ I shouted. ‘Come on, Jonno.’

Jonno didn’t come. Jonno has an annoying habit of not coming! We waited out of sight for a few minutes.