Trash - Andy Mulligan [5]
I went up to my house, Gardo following. We live high, compared to many. Two rooms built out of truck pallets, with plastic and canvas holding it fast, and it’s stacked over three families below. You go up three stepladders to get to it. First, the bit where Auntie and my half-sister sleep, and beyond that’s another little box, about the size of a sheet. That’s where me and my cousins go, and Gardo too when he’s with us. My cousins were in there now, snoring away, and all around was the noise of neighbours’ chatter and laughter, and radios, and someone calling.
I moved one of the cousins along, and we got close in to the side, where I store my things. It’s a crate that beer came in, and it’s up on one side. I’ve got a spare pair of shorts, another two T-shirts and a pair of slippers. I’ve also got my little spread of treasures, like all the boys do. With me it’s a penknife I found, with a broken blade – still a good little tool. I’ve got a cup with a picture of the Virgin Mary. I’ve got a watch that doesn’t go. I’ve got a little plastic duck, which the cousins play with, and I’ve got one pair of jeans. The jeans were wrapping up the precious bag, and it felt dangerous just to be unwrapping it.
Gardo held a candle close and sat hunched, watching me. We were both bending over it. When I glanced up at him, his lips were thin. The whites of his eyes stood out like a pair of eggs.
‘We gotta move it,’ he said. ‘You can’t leave it here, boy.’
‘I think you’re right,’ I said. ‘Where to?’
He paused.
I pulled out the ID and looked at the man. José Angelico, looking back at me sadly. And his little girl, more serious. ‘What do you think he’s done?’ I said.
‘Something bad,’ said Gardo. ‘And when they come back, I think they going to talk to you again … You see the way that guy was looking at you?’
I nodded.
‘You see the way he was touching you? He’s got you fixed.’
‘I know,’ I said. ‘You too, maybe.’ I laughed. ‘You think he wants to be our special friend?’
‘This isn’t funny,’ said Gardo. ‘We need Rat.’
‘Why Rat?’
‘I’m thinking it’s about the only place they’re not gonna look.’
‘You think he’ll take it, though? Rat’s not stupid.’
‘Give him ten, he’ll take it. Break his arms if he doesn’t.’ Gardo took the ID and put it away. ‘They won’t go down there, the police – they won’t even see him.’
I knew it was a good plan. I knew it was the only plan as well, because we had to get it out of the house.
‘Do it now?’ I said.
Gardo nodded.
‘Don’t threaten him, though,’ I said. ‘He’ll do it for me.’
4
Still Raphael.
So sorry, but I want to tell about Rat, and then I will hand over.
Rat is a boy – three or four years younger than me. His real name is Jun-Jun. Nobody called him that, though, because he lived with the rats and had come to look like one. He was the only kid in Behala that I knew of who had no family at all, and at that time I didn’t know too much about his past. There were plenty of boys without fathers, and a lot like me without mothers either. But if you had no parents, you had aunties or uncles, or older brothers, or cousins, and so there was always somebody who would take care of you and give you a bit of the mat to sleep on, and a plate of rice. The thing about Rat was, he had nobody, because he’d come from some place way out of the city – and if it hadn’t been for the Mission School he’d have been dead.
Gardo and I went back down the ladders with the candles. I’d put the bag under my T-shirt, and tried to hold my arms so it wasn’t too obvious – but it was as if people didn’t want to see me anyway. Auntie especially was looking away, and shifted so she had her back to us both. We crossed the roadway and were soon deep in amongst the trash.
I better say, the trash is alive at night: that’s when the rats come out strong. During the day you don’t see so many, and they stay out of your path. You get a surprise now and then when one jumps up, and sometimes you get a good kick and send one spinning. Not often, though. They’re quick, and they can dive, jump, fly and