Junk - Melvin Burgess [10]
‘She’s not coming to stay. She’s just visiting,’ I began when the customer left.
‘What you doing tonight?’
‘Well, nothing…’
‘Be here at six o’clock. I’ve got someone to see. We might be able to sort something out for you.’
‘Really?’
‘I’ve gotta see someone, all right? You be here at six. I might just tell you to clear off home.’
‘Thanks, Mr Scholl!’
‘Mr Scholl.’ He rolled his eyes briefly. ‘Skolly.’
‘Thanks, Skolly.’
‘Go on, piss off.’
I practically skipped down the road. Everything was working out! Gemma coming, Skolly taking me on. Well, I say that, but of course not everything was going to work out. There was one thing that never was going to – and that was the really big one.
My mum.
I’d made myself this promise not to ring up for a whole month. The trouble was, I kept thinking I’d feel better if I spoke to her; but I knew it wasn’t true. I’d left her a note when I went but that was ages ago. It was Gemma’s idea not to ring her for a bit. She said my mum’d just make me feel really bad, maybe she’d even talk me into coming back. But things were going so well I was thinking maybe I could cope with it. I’d only been away a couple of weeks, but it was the longest I’d ever been away from her.
I knew I shouldn’t ring. Gemma was right. You don’t know my mum, she can make you do anything. I’m more scared of her than I am of Dad, really.
In the end I thought, See what happens tonight with Mr Scholl. I mean, if he got me sorted out with somewhere to live, everything would be okay and I could think about getting in touch with Mum. If not, well, that’d be different. That’d be a disaster. I’d have to ring up Gemma and tell her not to come. Because Skolly was right. You couldn’t ask Gemma to come and live in a place like Albany Road.
The dandelion didn’t come out like I wanted. The colours were too pale. I wanted these really deep yellows and the black like velvet behind it. You can’t do that sort of thing with pencil crayons. Pastel sticks would’ve done it. I had a set at home, I was really mad with myself for not bringing them. But they’re so fragile I thought they’d get broken.
Chapter Four
Skolly
He was there. Well, he would be, wouldn’t he?
‘Good evening, David.’
‘Hello, Mr Skolly.’
I said, ‘Just Skolly.’ I headed off up the road and he came loping after me. He was a tall lad, a good six inches over my head.
‘It’s really nice of you to help me out…’
‘I haven’t done anything yet.’ Very polite boy. That’s one of the things that made me take to him. He was bobbing along beside me, looking sincere. He had his leather jacket on and his rucksack on his back. You could tell he hadn’t been on the streets for long because his rucksack was still fairly clean. Jeans, boots, long hair. He looked the same as he usually did. They all look the same as they usually do. They tend not to have an extensive wardrobe.
He was the first one I ever felt like helping, apart from doling out money and fags and chocolate. Most of the others are either depressed or stupid. They ought to be back at home with their mums and dads.
The first time I saw him I gave him a couple of quid and asked him what he thought he was playing at.
He just glanced up and touched the side of his face. I hadn’t noticed the bruises. He didn’t have to say any more, he looked so miserable. I nodded and gave him a couple of Mars bars on top of the money and his face changed. It startled me. His entire face changed. He beamed at me. I’d really made him happy, for a minute or two, anyway. That made me feel good. I like feeling good.
He didn’t seem to have any front. You need all the front you can get in this old world. Look at me. I’m nearly all front. What you see is what you get. But this kid – you only had to look at him to know he’d believe whatever you wanted him to. You had the feeling that if you didn’t hold his hand he’d get crushed in the stampede.
I proffered a packet of Bensons. ‘Fag?’
‘Thank you, but I don’t smoke.’
‘You will,’ I told him. Practically everyone living