I hear a car engine and see the police car driving towards me. It slows down and stops. The car door opens and two of them get out. They say hello. I don’t answer. I don’t feel like friendly conversation.

They’re both men, one mixed race, one white. The white one calls out my name. I don’t know if they expect me to say, “Yes,” like I’m in school registration. I still don’t say nothing.

They walk towards me and ask me if I’m all right. I push my phone back into my pocket and they both touch those belts they wear, the ones that have their stuff hanging from them. The feds say that they need to talk to me about some damage to a property and some threatening behaviour.

I stand up. They ask me to stay calm even though I’ve kept my mouth shut. They get closer and closer and I want them to stop. They keep coming and I still don’t move.

The feds stop walking. One of them is the same height as me. The other one’s a bit shorter. They keep talking, using my first name like we’ve been friends since we were babies. I step towards them and they touch their belts again. The thing sticking out must be their taser or maybe a baton. What the hell do they think I’m gonna do? Turn into Captain Marvel and throw them harder than I threw the flowerpot? I carry on past them towards the car.

My head’s full of Kandi again. That shame keeps burning inside me, but I’m angry too. If Kandi’s dad had taken me as well, me and Kandi could still see each other. If Aunty Jasmine didn’t have twins, me and Kandi could still see other. If Mum didn’t die, me and Kandi would still be with each other. Man, I didn’t cause none of this crap, but everything bad comes back to me.

I look behind me. The feds are right there, eyes on me, waiting for the badness to happen. Is that what they want? Man, I’ve got nothing to lose. If badness is gonna come back to me, I might as well make it mine in the first place. So I kick their car so damn hard I think I’ve broken a toe. I feel one of them touch my arm. I spin around and I kick him too.

Chapter 8

One thing that the police have got on those belts for sure is handcuffs. They snap round my wrists and I’m loaded into the car. Then I’m unloaded at a police station. And that’s how I feel, like I’m the bag of dirty washing that no one wants to deal with.