Chapters (75)
- Cover
- Praise
- About the Author
- Title Page
- Intoroduction
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EITHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- SIXTY-ONE
- SIXTY-TWO
- SIXTY-THREE
- SIXTY-FOUR
- SIXTY-FIVE
- SIXTY-SIX
- SIXTY-SEVEN
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
- CLIMATE EMERGENCY
- Copyright
‘And who is that, exactly?’ Jamie’s eyes level on me now. ‘Just who are you, Josh? Because I’m not sure that I really know anymore. One minute you’re back to your old self, you’re talking again, for the first time since … I don’t know when.’
‘Yeah, I know.’ I feel like I’m being told off by a parent. There’s something reassuring about it.
‘And then the next minute you’re hanging around with that Alan guy and his psycho brother. They’re pricks, Josh. Nasty, violent, racist thugs. Do you know what they’ve been doing to Ahmed?’
‘No.’
‘Spitting at him in the corridor, stealing his stuff when we’re in PE. Not big stuff, just little annoying things like school books or the top of his drink bottle. It’s obviously them. And the names they call him. They’re unrepeatable.’
It feels like a heavy weight is rising up through my stomach. Like a bucket being pulled from a deep well. There’s a sucking vacuum of air behind it, trying to pull it back down, but it’s coming, slowly. And I want it to come. I want it to rise up that shaft, back towards daylight. I know the words they’re using to Ahmed. And as I talk to Jamie, and the bucket rises, I want to tell him that I hate them too. Each time I hear them it’s like a bite taken out of me. Not from my flesh or anywhere like that, but somewhere deeper. And those words aren’t even directed at me. I can’t even imagine how they make Ahmed feel.
‘They keep asking Ahmed what’s in his backpack, like they’re expecting him to say it’s a bomb or something.’ Jamie stops short. Gives me a strange look, like he wants me to confirm that my dad’s murderer’s backpack looked nothing like Ahmed’s.
How would I know?
He carries on, his voice dropping, more sympathetic. ‘And none of the teachers that overhear it know what to do at all. They just stand there looking disappointed or say something like “that’s enough”. And the spray paint on his house a few months ago. Did you know about that? That was almost definitely them, even though they were wearing masks.’ Jamie’s spitting his words out now. ‘They’re cowards. They don’t go to their own lessons any more, just seem to wait around for him. But I get the feeling this is just the start of it.’
I can’t speak, the words sticking in my throat. The bucket’s getting closer. I can almost see the shimmer on the water, reflecting the sky.