fridge and red wax all down the side. I clear it up, bin two empty bottles of vodka then go out into the garden. I’m practising twist-and-shoot when Mum hollers me. I check my watch. 11.32am. I’ve been training for three hours. I do my drag-the-ball-back, flick-it, bounce-it-on-my-knee-and-flick-it-to-the-other-foot trick for Mum.
Mum shouts, ‘I’m making you some lunch. Fish and parsley sauce!’
I give her the thumbs up, not because I’m hungry but because it’s ages since she’s cooked me anything.
After thirty minutes, I switch to half volley shots. The first time I try one, the ball bounces up faster than I expect. I miskick it and it balloons up. I hear it hit a kitchen window behind the shrubs.
Boosh! The window smashes.
Mum storms out. She weaves round the shrubs towards me and I can tell she’s been necking vodka. She’s got a plate in her hand, full of steaming food. She tries to chuck it at me. It lands on the grass about a metre away from her.
‘Salmon in parsley sauce, with petals of glass! You know how long that took me? You’re the devil’s child! I should have had an abortion!’
‘Fuck you!’ I reply.
I rush inside and throw on some clothes then run back out. I can’t believe what my mum has just said. It’s everything I thought she ever thought of me. I wipe away enough tears so I can see the screen of my phone. Four messages from MC. I wasn’t going to do this again, but I’ve changed my mind. I text Mikaela.
Forty minutes later, me and Mikaela are on the bus and I’m a world away from my mum.
‘What’s up?’ Mikaela asks when she plonks herself down next to me.
I shake my head. I’m too upset to talk.
‘Suit yourself.’
I don’t say anything to Mikaela for a long time. We’re on the back seat. Mikaela looks out of the window. The sun is blazing through Mikaela’s Afro. She’s lip-synching to a song on her headphones. I nudge her and she hands me an ear piece. We get a hand dance going and soon we’re rocking and everyone on the bus is smiling except some old fart who starts tutting (which makes it even better).
My mum texts me.
So sorry. Can you ring me?
I text her back.
Nt now mum am w frends.
I hope she gets the friends bit. She’s never been my friend.
The main square in town is full of jugglers and dancers and a big crowd’s out in the sun enjoying it. MC has been here all morning and says it’s pickpocket heaven. Me and Cakes know what to do. MC goes through it for Mikaela. As she explains our routine (one of us barges into someone “accidentally”, the other one lifts their purse or wallet. They pass it to the third person, who takes off), I see Mikaela’s cheek start its twitch. When MC has finished, I say, ‘Cakes bumps, MC picks, I walk with. Watch and learn from the experts, right, MC?’
‘Yup,’ says MC. She does her double-jointed fingers trick for Mikaela, moving the fingers of her right hand so they revolve in strange and unnatural ways. As she does this she rolls her eyes into her head so you can only see the whites. It’s MC’s party trick, and just like she intended, it spooks Mikaela.
‘This feels so wrong,’ Mikaela whispers to me as we’re walking.
MC hears her. ‘The best fun always is,’ she says.
‘What about all the CCTV?’
‘Lazy bastards what watch them are all asleep.’ MC puts her hand out. Mikaela looks around nervously as we say our slogan.
‘A rob for one is a rob for all!’
It isn’t long before we spot someone. A woman with two toddlers pushing a buggy. Her open handbag is slung across the buggy handles. The toddlers are pulling her this way and that. We’re about to crowd her when this guy in a track suit runs up with two ice creams and thrusts them at the kids. His hands go on the buggy handles and the woman scoops up her handbag and closes it. We look for someone else.
MC Banshee spots a man standing on some steps, opposite a hotel talking into his phone. She says she can see the bulge of
Mum shouts, ‘I’m making you some lunch. Fish and parsley sauce!’
I give her the thumbs up, not because I’m hungry but because it’s ages since she’s cooked me anything.
After thirty minutes, I switch to half volley shots. The first time I try one, the ball bounces up faster than I expect. I miskick it and it balloons up. I hear it hit a kitchen window behind the shrubs.
Boosh! The window smashes.
Mum storms out. She weaves round the shrubs towards me and I can tell she’s been necking vodka. She’s got a plate in her hand, full of steaming food. She tries to chuck it at me. It lands on the grass about a metre away from her.
‘Salmon in parsley sauce, with petals of glass! You know how long that took me? You’re the devil’s child! I should have had an abortion!’
‘Fuck you!’ I reply.
I rush inside and throw on some clothes then run back out. I can’t believe what my mum has just said. It’s everything I thought she ever thought of me. I wipe away enough tears so I can see the screen of my phone. Four messages from MC. I wasn’t going to do this again, but I’ve changed my mind. I text Mikaela.
Forty minutes later, me and Mikaela are on the bus and I’m a world away from my mum.
‘What’s up?’ Mikaela asks when she plonks herself down next to me.
I shake my head. I’m too upset to talk.
‘Suit yourself.’
I don’t say anything to Mikaela for a long time. We’re on the back seat. Mikaela looks out of the window. The sun is blazing through Mikaela’s Afro. She’s lip-synching to a song on her headphones. I nudge her and she hands me an ear piece. We get a hand dance going and soon we’re rocking and everyone on the bus is smiling except some old fart who starts tutting (which makes it even better).
My mum texts me.
So sorry. Can you ring me?
I text her back.
Nt now mum am w frends.
I hope she gets the friends bit. She’s never been my friend.
The main square in town is full of jugglers and dancers and a big crowd’s out in the sun enjoying it. MC has been here all morning and says it’s pickpocket heaven. Me and Cakes know what to do. MC goes through it for Mikaela. As she explains our routine (one of us barges into someone “accidentally”, the other one lifts their purse or wallet. They pass it to the third person, who takes off), I see Mikaela’s cheek start its twitch. When MC has finished, I say, ‘Cakes bumps, MC picks, I walk with. Watch and learn from the experts, right, MC?’
‘Yup,’ says MC. She does her double-jointed fingers trick for Mikaela, moving the fingers of her right hand so they revolve in strange and unnatural ways. As she does this she rolls her eyes into her head so you can only see the whites. It’s MC’s party trick, and just like she intended, it spooks Mikaela.
‘This feels so wrong,’ Mikaela whispers to me as we’re walking.
MC hears her. ‘The best fun always is,’ she says.
‘What about all the CCTV?’
‘Lazy bastards what watch them are all asleep.’ MC puts her hand out. Mikaela looks around nervously as we say our slogan.
‘A rob for one is a rob for all!’
It isn’t long before we spot someone. A woman with two toddlers pushing a buggy. Her open handbag is slung across the buggy handles. The toddlers are pulling her this way and that. We’re about to crowd her when this guy in a track suit runs up with two ice creams and thrusts them at the kids. His hands go on the buggy handles and the woman scoops up her handbag and closes it. We look for someone else.
MC Banshee spots a man standing on some steps, opposite a hotel talking into his phone. She says she can see the bulge of
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