Zom-B - Page 10/28

 

The last class ends and we churn out, shouting, laughing, cursing. Normally I can't escape the building quick enough, but today I head deeper into it. There's a five-a-side soccer tournament in the gym. I'm not playing, and I'm not really bothered about watching, but it'll be more fun than hanging out on the streets.

Kray, Elephant, Trev, Linzer and I wind our way through the labyrinth of corridors. Our school's massive. It holds over a thousand students, and it used to be even bigger. It wasn't always the cesspit it is now. Once upon a time they sank money into this place, kept adding on new rooms. It's not very wide but it's deep. Takes several minutes, with all the twists and turns, to get from one end to the other.

No outdoor spaces apart from a few small courtyards. The gym's a huge room at the rear of the building, solid walls all around, a few narrow skylight windows high overhead, lots of artificial light. The phys-ed staff keep it in good shape. You can play soccer, basketball, hockey, badminton. They have foosball and pool tables stacked at the sides - they bring them out at lunch for those who are so easily amused.

We hit the gym and spread out. There's already a crowd and the first game has kicked off. The teams are from the year above ours, so we give them loads of abuse, trying to distract them. One player shoots us the finger and we cheer.

"Bloody idiots," I laugh. "Running round like maniacs."

"It's the beautiful game," Elephant argues. He loves soccer but hasn't played in ages, still recovering from breaking his foot a few months back.

"Beautiful waste of time," I tease him, but he's too engrossed in the game to pay me much attention.

I get bored quickly and look around for something else to do. There's a small group to our left, cheering on the players, a mix of kids from different years. I don't know most of them, but one catches my eye - Tyler Bayor.

My dad had a bust-up with Tyler's old man a while back. Tyler's dad had accused me of stealing from his son. It was true - I took money from him a few times, like I took the bar of chocolate from the girl today, because Tyler's soft and the cash was there for the taking - but I denied it until I was blue in the face.

My dad was furious that a black guy had dared point the finger at me. Marched round to their home, dragged Tyler's dad outside, fought with him in the street. Others separated them before it got nasty. We retreated with our heads held high, and Tyler's dad didn't push the charges any further.

I stopped stealing from Tyler, even though my dad told me he didn't care what I did to that walking fart of a kid. I didn't stop because I'd been challenged. I stopped because I knew my dad thought that I was targeting Tyler because of his race. I wasn't. I picked on Tyler because he was weak and I could get away with it. But I felt uneasy, seeing myself through my dad's eyes, like I was the same as him.

I never told any of the others about what happened, which is why Vinyl didn't realize it was personal when I was having a go at Tyler in the park. I'm not sure why I kept it secret. I guess I was ashamed, not of stealing, but of my dad turning it into a racial thing.

Even though I don't steal from Tyler anymore, I don't like him. The sight of him reminds me of that night, my dad squaring up to Tyler's old man, me feeling proud and mortified at the same time, all of it brought on by Tyler not keeping his mouth shut and putting up with the theft as any good victim should.

"Hey, Tyler," I shout. "Why didn't you come play with us the other night?"

Tyler looks at me and forces a laugh. Turns back to the game, hoping I'll let it drop. But I'm not in the dropping mood.

"Oi! Don't ignore me."

"I'm not ignoring you, B," he sighs.

"You bloody are."

The kids around him back away and focus on the game. None of them wants to get sucked into this.

Tyler gulps and faces me. "I was looking for a mate. He wasn't there. So I left."

"But you didn't even stop to say hello," I remind him.

"That was rude," Kray chuckles, giving me a dig in the ribs, egging me on.

"I know your kind aren't the most civilized in the world," I continue, taking a few steps towards the small, nervous kid, "but I thought you'd have the good manners to - "

"What do you mean, your kind?" someone snaps.

I halt and blink. A tall black girl has stepped forward. She's glaring at me. She's from the year above mine, Nancy something-or-other.

"You got a problem?" I snarl.

"Yeah," she says, stepping in front of Tyler, who can't believe his luck. "You just said that blacks are uncivilized."

"Not me," I grin.

"Yes you did," she huffs. "I heard what you said. Your kind."

"Maybe I was talking about his family," I chuckle. "Or the fans of the team he supports."

"No," Nancy says. "I know exactly what you meant."

I shrug and fake a yawn. Nancy's got me dead to rights, but I can't admit that in front of the others. It's not in my nature to back down. You can never show weakness. You have to fight every fight that comes your way. Otherwise you end up being picked on, like Tyler.

"Let's say you're right," I drawl. "So what?"

"I won't stand for racism," Nancy says. "Apologize or I'll report you."

"Me?" I gasp. "Racist? You're nuts. Isn't she, Kray?"

Kray chuckles weakly but says nothing. He doesn't want the hassle.

"Tell her I'm not a racist, Tyler. Tell her you and me are good friends and were just having a laugh."

"Leave him alone," Nancy says. "Pick on me if you want to pick on someone."

I grin tightly. "All right." I move closer and get in her face, even though I have to go right up on my toes. "I was talking about blacks," I murmur. I know it's madness, that I won't be able to justify this if she grasses me up. But I've only two choices here - apologize or push through with the hard-nosed, racist routine. And I wasn't brought up to apologize. Certainly not to the likes of her.

Nancy pushes me away. "You're scum," she sneers.

"At least I'm white scum," I toss back at her, slipping into hateful character with alarming ease.

"You'll be suspended scum once I tell a teacher what you said."

"Is that how you deal with people who wind you up?" I jeer. "You run to the teachers?"

"Yeah."

I shrug. "Go on then. It's my word against yours. But while you're complaining about me, I'll complain too. You pushed me. That's physical assault and everyone saw it."

"Rubbish," she snorts.

"You raised your hands and pushed me. That's a direct attack." I step up close to Nancy and smile. "If you're gonna get done just for pushing me, you might as well go the whole hog. Go on, knock my block off, you know you want to. You lot love to fight, don't you? It's what you were born for. Well, that and basketball."

Nancy's fingers bunch into fists. She's trembling. She wants to hit me but she'll lose the moral high ground if she does. If she strikes the first blow, she won't be able to turn me in. It doesn't matter if you're provoked - school policy is that you should never react.

"Go on," I whisper, then sink lower than I ever thought I would, and make a few soft, gorilla-like grunting noises.

Nancy shrieks and slaps me. I laugh.

"Is that the hardest you can hit?" I mock her.

She slaps me again, a flurry of feeble blows. I don't even bother to raise my hands to protect myself. "Help me!" I yell theatrically. "She's gone mad. I think she has rabies. Don't let her bite. I'm afraid she'll - "

One of Nancy's rings catches my cheek and tears into it. I hiss and slap her away. A thin trickle of blood flows from the cut. The sight of it goads Nancy on. She throws herself at me and grapples for my eyes with her nails, kicking my shins, screaming shrilly. I put a hand on her face to push her away. She bites my fingers.

I grit my teeth and tear my hand free. Nancy goes for my eyes again. Losing my temper, I step back and let fly, a real punch. My fist hits the side of her face and she goes down. She lands hard and cries out. I start after her to finish her off, but Elephant and Kray get in my way.

"Easy, B," Kray says. "She's not as tough as you."

"I don't care," I shout. "She bit me. I'm gonna - "

"B Smith!" someone roars.

I look up and groan. It's Stuttering Stan, one of the PE teachers. He doesn't really stutter but he trips over his tongue sometimes.

"You're in for it now," Nancy cackles, smiling through her tears of pain and anger.

"You hit me first," I snarl.

"Tell it to Stuttering Stan," she crows.

I spit at her as if I were a child, then turn and stand to attention, staring directly at Stuttering Stan as he strides towards me, acting as if I've done nothing wrong. I know I should feel ashamed of myself, and to a degree I do. But to my surprise and dismay, I also feel smug, because I know Dad would be proud if he could see me now, bringing an interfering black girl down a peg or two.