Almost True (18 page)

‘Umm . . . she's . . . she's . . . what do you know about my gran?'

He's chewing his thumbnail now and I swear I've never seen Nathan look so . . . so . . . nervous? Christ. I get it. So
guilty.
That's how he looks.

‘What do you know about my gran?' I ask again, but this time it comes out slow and angry, and when he shrugs and looks at me, I know. He was involved in beating up my gran. Nearly killing her. Putting her in intensive care. Turning her into someone who's scared all the time.

I lunge at him, punch my arm across his neck to knock the air out, then slice the mermaid's sharp tail hard at his eyes.

He swipes me away, yelling out loud – with pain, I hope – and I crash to the ground and next he's got me spreadeagled on the floor and I'm biting his hand and reaching for his throat and we crash into the telly and it totters over, smashing onto the floor with a bang like a bomb going off.

We're locked together, panting fury into each other's faces, sweat and spit, blood and tears. He rolls me over and wrenches my arm up at an impossible angle, pinning my hand to my shoulder blade so I have to bite my tongue to stop myself screaming.

‘Is this what you did to her?' I gasp. ‘Is this what you did?'

And then there's something soft, something pink blocking out the light. Cold little hands touch my face and a voice squeaks, ‘Stop! Nathan! Stop. It's OK! It's Ty!'

‘Shanice!' shouts Nathan. ‘Get back to bed, girl.'

Shanice wraps her arms around me.

‘It's Ty . . . Nathan, let him go! Let him go!' And she aims a kick in his direction.

Shanice is only seven so she's not a great fighter. But Nathan lets go of my arm. I lie still on the carpet, crunchy with glass from the busted telly.

‘Stay where you are,' Nathan growls. ‘If you hurt my sister, you're dead.'

‘Ty wouldn't hurt no one,' says Shanice, her eyes big and teary. ‘Ty . . . are you all right? Nathan didn't mean it . . . he must've thought you were a burglar, but it's not, it's Ty.'

‘Get up,' says Nathan. I pull myself up and stagger over to the sofa. My arm feels like it's hanging by a thread.
Blood dribbles from a cut on Nathan's forehead where Mermaid Barbie did her work.

Shanice leaps on me, hugging me tight, kissing my sore face. I wish she'd stop. I am so full of hate that I don't want to think or feel anything else. And I especially don't want to start crying, which is a distinct possibility right now.

‘Shanice, you go back to bed,' says Nathan, ‘You gotta be in school in three hours, you need to sleep.'

But Shanice sticks her thumb in her mouth, shakes her head and cuddles up next to me. ‘I'm staying here with Ty so you can't fight him no more,' she says. ‘Ty, when is Arron coming home?'

‘I don't know,' I answer, ‘I'm sorry, Shanice. I don't know.'

‘Not for a long time,' says Nathan, and he goes into the girls' bedroom and brings out Shanice's Disney Princess duvet. He tucks it around her. She's asleep in two minutes.

Nathan gets a wodge of kitchen roll and mops his face. He unlocks the door to the balcony and drags out the busted television. He hoovers up the glass and he tidies Shanice's toys, shaking each one carefully to make sure there's no glass tangled into a Barbie's hair or sticking to a piece of Play Doh.

He doesn't say one word to me until he sits down
again. Then he whispers, ‘You're wrong. I never hurt your gran. I wouldn't do something like that. Whoever told you that was lying.'

‘No one told me,' I say slowly. ‘I just . . . I just knew.'

He shakes his head. ‘You can't just go off on one because you think you know something. You have to make sure. Check things out. You can't jump to conclusions, man, you gotta sit tight and see what's what.'

‘You know 'em . . . you know Jukes and his family, the ones that want to kill me. You could've been working for them.'

‘I could've,' he says, ‘but I wasn't. I never was. I stayed clear of all of that. Not like my little brother. He couldn't wait to get involved.'

‘Arron? He wasn't . . . I don't think. . .'

‘He never told you the half of it,' says Nathan, ‘In fact he never told you any of it, did he? Your mate Arron.' He's still whispering because of Shanice, but his voice drips with contempt.

My head is buzzing and I'm struggling not to yawn. It's hot in the flat, and Shanice's warm body pins me to the sofa.

‘He said . . . he said we needed protection.' I say. ‘He'd been mugged. He told me to carry a knife, and he took me to meet Jukes and Mikey and he said we needed protection. And they said we could have it if we did
some jobs for them and I said no, but then . . . then later Arron wanted me to help him do a mugging. So we could be in the gang. So we'd get protection. I said no, but maybe . . . maybe if I'd done what he wanted then it would've been different. Maybe Rio wouldn't have got killed.'

‘Yeah, yeah, I hear you,' says Nathan. ‘Arron's lawyer showed me your witness statement. Load of old bollocks.'

I'm confused. I think about what I've just said. That was all true, I'm sure of it. It's only later on, the bit where I slashed Arron's arm, that I started lying.

‘Think about it,' says Nathan. ‘Arron had been doing little jobs for dem boys for months. Selling drugs for dem at your posh school. And the rest. Nicking phones. Nicking iPods. He'd done ‘em all the favours he needed to get protection. Why suddenly go to them begging for help?'

‘He got mugged. He got beaten up. He was scared.'

‘He was beaten up by the others. The rivals. The other soldiers on the street. Because he crossed into their territory.'

‘Oh.'

‘He saw an opportunity, my li'l brother Arron. He thought this is my chance. My chance to give Jukes what he wants.'

‘Oh. . .?' He's losing me.

‘You still don't get it, do you?' he says, shaking his head.

‘Umm. No. Not really.'

‘Still think your best friend Arron was looking out for you? Trying to get you protection on the streets?'

‘Umm . . . yeah. . .'

‘Huh. Arron knew Jukes wanted you in his gang. Under his wing. So he made out he was mugged by strangers. Scared you . . . wound you up. Thought he could deliver you to Jukes, like Jukes wanted.'

‘But why?' I'm whispering too. But underneath, I'm screaming,
No . . . Arron wouldn't lie to me . . . he wouldn't trick me . . . he's my friend. . .

‘Jukes had his eye on you for a long time.' says Nathan. He shakes his head. ‘I blame myself. I shoulda warned you somehow.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘Jukes's old man,' he says. ‘Drinks at the Duke of York.' And he spreads his hands out in front of him like everything should be clear now.

The Duke of York was a pub ten shops along from our old flat. ‘It's so near, it's like drinking in my own front room,' my mum used to say, ‘except I'd keep it a lot cleaner.' It was a big, dark, dusty old boozer with velvet seats and black wood furniture and a new manager who was trying to turn around the effects of the smoking ban
by bringing in stuff like cocktails and happy hours, quizzes and karaoke nights. My mum loved karaoke night at the Duke of York. My mum . . . my mum . . .
Jesus.

I look at Nathan and I think he's telling the truth.

‘My
mum
? This is about her?'

‘Jukes's old man was a big fan of karaoke,' says Nathan. Then he sighs. ‘So was every guy who drinks at the Duke of York. Your mother is a legend, Ty.'

I'm not sure if he's disrespecting her. I frown, and he says, ‘It's a well-known fact dat she's very picky. Dat's why Jukes's old man never made a move. Dat's why he thought he'd get you involved; get her in a situation where she's beggin' for his help. To keep you outta trouble.'

‘Did Arron. . . Did Arron
know
this?'

‘Nah. Arron, he just thought Jukes wanted you as a soldier. To be honest, I'm not sure how much Jukes even knew. After all, there's his mum to think about . . . but his old man, he's got a few girls on the side, in flats, you know. . . And I think somewhere in Arron's thick head he thought you should toughen up a bit. Be a man. Like he thought he was.'

‘So it was all a set-up? I was meant to mug Rio?'

‘Rio. . .' says Nathan. ‘You do realise, dontcha, dat Rio was in the other gang? Dat weren't no random victim walking though dat park? The idea was to get
Rio roughed up a bit, give dem boys a message. Revenge, like. Dat's why Jukes and Mikey showed up. Make sure you picked on the right man. The two of you walked straight into a set up.'

I swallow. This is all a bit much. I think back to the day when Arron and I met Jukes and Mikey. We'd just got off the tube. My head was full of French homework. Arron had hardly spoken on the train and I'd pulled out my exercise book so that I wouldn't look like I was being ignored.

Then he'd said, ‘We're meeting some friends of mine . . . Jukes . . . Mikey . . . you know?' And I'd replied, ‘
Je ne sais pas,'
because I wasn't thinking, and he'd snapped, ‘Can you
try
not to be too gay.'

And then later, he asked me, told me, begged me to do this little job for Jukes and Mikey. ‘You'll be doing yourself a favour,' he said. ‘You'll be part of something, have people to look out for you. Go on, man. I'll back you up. Don't be scared.'

But I was scared, and I ran away and I spied on him and Rio pulled out his knife and got killed.

And if I'd been the dead one, then they'd probably have had a wake at the Duke of York, and Jukes's old man could've comforted my mum and offered help and support through her terrible loss. And a flat. Christ. ‘

How d'you know all this?' I ask, suddenly suspicious.
‘How do I know you haven't made it all up?'

Nathan shrugs. ‘Arron told me some. Some I heard. Some's not difficult to guess.'

Shanice stirs in her sleep and Nathan leans forward and picks her up. ‘C'mon, Shani, time for bed,' he says, and nods at me to bring her duvet. He carries her into her room and puts her in the bottom bunk. I cover her up and we stand and look at her sweet, sleeping face.

Then he says, ‘You must be tired. You want Arron's bed?' I don't really, but I am shattered, so I go into the room that he and Arron share and I take off my shoes and I lie down on the bed and I stare at the Arsenal posters up on the wall. Arsène Wenger is looking straight at me, and his gloomy French face seems to sneer at the idiot who wanted to protect the friend who was lying and lying and lying. . .

Nathan sticks his head round the door. ‘I'll have to take Shanice to school a bit later, but you just sleep and I'll wake you up lunchtime,' he says.

‘OK,' I say, and Nathan pauses and says, ‘Look, Ty, I'm not making no excuses for Arron. He's done a lot of bad things and he's gonna pay for it now.'

I turn my head away. I don't trust myself to say anything.

‘You feel bad, right, because your friend weren't straight with you,' says Nathan. ‘Fair enough.
But just remember one thing. He thought he was doing you a favour.'

The sun is shining in my eyes, and although I groan and roll over and try and block it out, it's no good. I'm awake. I look at my watch. It's midday.

I stare at Arron's ceiling and I think about all the lies he told. And all the lies I told. A world where everyone tells lies all the time is like a world where everyone carries a knife. You think it's going to help you, but it only makes things worse.

And I wonder how my life would change – how I would be – if I only tell the truth from now on. No matter what happens.

But if I tell the truth about how I hurt Arron – and right now, this minute, I'm pleased I hurt him, I want to hurt him again, I
hate
him – then I will end up in court and in prison and I won't have a future any more.

But do I have much of a future anyway?

I can hear Nathan moving around, and the door creaks open. I quickly shut my eyes and pretend to be asleep. The door creaks shut again, but it doesn't completely close and I can hear him talking. Either there's someone there with him or he's on the phone.

‘He's here. . .' he mutters, ‘Sleeping. Came last night. Yes. Yes. Come right now. . . Not going anywhere.'

Jesus.
He's telling someone about me. He must've been lying to me. He must be on the phone to Jukes's gang . . . maybe Jukes's dad himself. . .
Christ.
They're coming here. They're going to get me.

I'm breathing in little jittery gasps and my heart is thumping. Sweat prickles my armpits. There's a sharp taste of sick in my mouth. I rush to the window, but it's tiny . . . I'd never get out . . . and there's a two-floor drop underneath, straight onto concrete.

I creep to the door. No sound. Maybe I can get out. I sit down, tie my shoes and open the door, slow and silent. No one. Nothing. I move slowly towards the front door, reach the handle, push it down. Damn. It's locked. I scurry back to the bedroom.

I hear a burst of Dizzee Rascal. Nathan's phone. ‘Yeah.' I hear him say. ‘Still sleeping. Tell you what, I'll come down and show you where to put it. See you in a minute.' And I hear a door open and close, and he's
walking to the front door . . . and it slams shut. And I run and try it again, but no, it's still locked. I'm a rat in a trap.

There's nowhere to hide. I go into Shanice and Jasmine's room, and think about crawling under the bunk bed. And then I imagine being dragged out feet first, and the mess if they shoot me there and then. The blood in their pink and cream palace.