Tall Story (11 page)

I could forget all my troubles when I played. Goodness knows I deserved some upside after finding out I had Fee-fi-fo-fum for a big brother.

It was not as bad as it sounded. Saint Simeon’s gymnasium was fantastic: it even had three-point lines painted on – at my previous school, we didn’t have three-point lines so all my cool long-distance shots were wasted.

Lucky for me, the ball lockers were fastened with the same crummy locks as my old school. It took only one elbow and a kick for the door to fall open. I extracted a basketball and pushed through the double doors to the court.

Oh Holy Mother of God.

There was someone else there, shooting baskets. Someone so tall and hench, he was virtually bursting out of his shirt.

Rocky.

He took aim at the basket and released the ball. He missed.

I whirled round to leave but Rocky’s ball beat me to the exit and banged hard on the double doors in front of me.

‘Hey!’

Oh Holy Mother of God, he spotted me.

I turned round and faked a smile. ‘Hi.’

He looked like he wanted to laugh. ‘You look different in school uniform.’

And you look as stupid in your tie as I do in my skirt, I thought. But what I said aloud was: ‘So do you.’

‘Your name is Andi, right?’

‘Andi with an
i
.’ I turned towards the door. ‘Well, gotta go.’

‘Wait!’ Rocky called. ‘Were you going to shoot some hoops?’

No, I was going to plant some rice. ‘I was just going to pass the time.’

‘One on one?’

I don’t know what got into me. Instead of marching out of the court, I spun round and passed him my ball. He caught it, leaping into the air like Kareem Abdul-Jabbar on hydraulics to hook it at the goal. It looped over our heads but bounced harmlessly off the back board.

I raced after it. Rocky didn’t bother to run after me, he just positioned himself under the basket waiting to pounce when I came close for the shot. No chance, mister. I stopped at the three-point line and made my shot.
Swish
. The look on his face was a prize.

‘Pow!’ He punched the air, staring at me in wonder. ‘Hey, Andi, you didn’t say you were good.’

You didn’t ask, I thought. But pleasure spread through my stomach like warm water. I shrugged, my face expressionless as I went to collect the ball from under the basket. I toed the three-point line and took another shot.
Swish
.

Rocky shook his head in wonder and grabbed the ball. ‘Show me some more.’

We played for the rest of the break. Rocky sank exactly two shots. I didn’t count how many baskets I made. I just stayed away from him, running wide – no point getting up close with Rocky blocking the way like a plaster. I shot from the three-point line.
Swish. Swish. Swish
.

After fifteen solid minutes, we stopped to drink from the water fountain beside the court. My cotton blouse stuck to my back, wet with sweat. But I felt good.

‘You don’t miss, do you?’

‘Nope.’

‘You’re amazing. You’re exactly what the Souls need.’

I stared hopefully up at him. But the doleful expression on his face was enough. He didn’t mean it.

‘I’m sorry, Andi. I can’t change the rules.’

The bell rang. I tossed Rocky the ball and turned away, avoiding the searching look in his eyes. ‘Thanks for the workout.’

Before I could push through the double doors of the exit, Rocky yelled, ‘Wait!’

He sprinted up to me, tossing the ball. I caught it instinctively.

‘There’s nothing in the rulebook that says you can’t train with us.’ The brown eyes glowed warmly down at me and the quick rush of blood to my cheeks almost distracted me from what he was saying. ‘Wanna come? You’ll have some fun and you could definitely teach the boys a thing or two.’

‘You mean it?’

‘Sure.’ Rocky waved as he disappeared out of the door. ‘Sunday afternoon. Two p.m. at the outdoor courts near the hospital. Be there!’

As the double doors at the other end of the court flapped shut behind him, I stood there like an idiot. Then the meaning of what Rocky had said penetrated my brain.

YES! I jumped high, releasing the ball as I leaped. It flew true and swished into the basket without touching the sides of the metal ring.

Suddenly I had a chance. Training with the Souls was just a few steps away from becoming one of the team.

‘Andi!’

I whirled round. Mrs Green? How did she beam herself into the gym without my noticing?

‘You know that playing in the gym during break is forbidden.’

‘I uh …’

‘See me in detention. After school.’

I
t was dark when I woke.

I got up slowly from the mattress on Amandolina’s bedroom floor and drew the curtains. Nothing. The room remained dark. I could see a street lamp glowing outside. I flicked on the light switch by the door and immediately spotted the note taped to the knob.

It was signed with a massive letter ‘A’ – for Amandolina, I suppose, except the A had a pair of horns.

Back at 4 p.m.? The digital clock on Amandolina’s bedside table said 5:00 – five what? Could it be 5 a.m. in the morning? But that would be silly, wouldn’t it? If it were morning, Amandolina would be in her bed
next to mine and the roosters would be crowing. But wait, this was London. There were no roosters. Most likely it was 5 p.m. and Amandolina was either late coming home from school or downstairs in the kitchen.

‘Amandolina?’ I stood at the top of the stairs and listened. But the silence from downstairs was deafening. There was definitely nobody at home.

I shivered, suddenly aware of the cold gnawing on my bare feet, neck and arms.

I looked down at myself. I was in the same shirt and trousers I was wearing when I got off the plane. I smelled like onions left out on the chopping board.

I had to wash.

I went to the bathroom.

There was a real bathtub.

San Andres was a village known for what it didn’t have and a bath was definitely on that list. A shower served its purpose. Or a tall bucket of water and a
tabo
, a plastic beaker to ladle water on yourself.

I stared at the bathtub – not that I’d never seen one before; I’ve seen them plenty of times in American movies – but how was I going to sit inside it? I could not possibly fold myself small enough and neat enough to fit. Besides, the thought of immersing
myself in water infused with the dirt and odours I was trying to get rid of was nauseating.

What would Jabby say?
Get a grip, Bernardo! Use your coconut!

I decided to fill the tub with water and
kneel
next to it and wash myself as per usual – a saucepan from the kitchen would make as good a
tabo
as any. I found the rubber stopper and plugged the hole.

But then the tap marked H for hot ran cold. And the tap marked C for cold ran freezing.

I left both taps running and hurried downstairs to the kitchen. The electric kettle on the counter was far too small for the quantity of hot water I needed. I searched the cupboards and took out the biggest pot I could find, filling it with water, then putting it on the stove to heat. I could mix the heated water with the cold in the tub for a warm bath. Problem solved.

I went up to Amandolina’s room and found my suitcase behind the door. I needed a change of clothes. I unzipped the bag and pulled out a fresh pair of trousers and a T-shirt. Something solid dropped out onto the floor. My heart leaped.

Gabriela’s stone.

*   *   *

Do you feel guilty, Giant Boy? Guilty about Gabriela? Guilty for what you did to me?

Mad Nena.

Always sneaking along behind me. Staring from behind lampposts. Waiting outside the school gates. Praying. Mumbling. Now that I’d finally put a whole world between me and her, I was glad that she wasn’t going to be bothering me any more.

Do you feel guilty? Guilty? Guilty?

Not guilty. I didn’t deserve her accusations despite what happened. I didn’t even know that Nena was Gabriela’s mother. Although I should have guessed. There was a similarity in the arch of their eyebrows, the curl of their lips. Gabriela was a young beauty and Nena was – used to be – a handsome woman.

She was the village witch.

And she terrorized San Andres in the same way Gabriela terrorized the school.

She wielded good magic and bad. White magic – love potions and spells for fine weather and high grades – was not her bread and butter, though she rarely turned away business when it came.

Black magic was her big ticket, the ruin of a rice crop, a plague of dengue fever, the seduction of a virgin, the nasty accident. Her clientele came from
far away and crossed her palm with the kind of wealth people in San Andres could only dream of.

Who would dare defy that kind of power? Who would dare stand up to a woman like Nena?

She and Gabriela had a dog named Judas, a cross between a German shepherd and a boxer. Nena once turned up with Judas on our street and Old Tibo’s dog, Flash Gordon, rushed joyfully towards him to sniff his bottom as friendly dogs do. Flash Gordon would do anything for a pat on the head. But Judas, it turned out, was not of the same love-hungry mould. Judas was vicious for no other reason than that he was born vicious. Poor Flash Gordon found that out soon enough – and now has half an ear to show for it.

Shopkeepers looked the other way when Nena bypassed the till or helped herself to an extra measure of rice or grabbed another tin of tuna. Far better for the books to fall short than to suffer some mysterious illness.

Tricycle cabs stopped for her even when they had passengers. The passengers got off without complaint and let her have their fare. It was said that she was quick to punish any sign of disrespect.

Sebastian, the tricycle driver, was in such a rush to meet his girlfriend one day that he didn’t stop when
Nena tried to flag his cab. People nearby saw Nena raise one crimson-nailed finger in a strange gesture. One of the tyres on Sebastian’s tricycle blew out with a massive bang. He careened into a bus speeding in the opposite direction.

He didn’t stand a chance.

At school, Gabriela exacted from us the same obedience and terror that her witch mother commanded from our parents. Gabriela and her gang ran roughshod over the playground on a daily basis. They got away with everything. My little packet of shells was only one small item in a long list of delinquencies.

So maybe I was being foolish when I decided to do what I did. Or maybe it was because I was just thirteen and had no sense. Or maybe the news that I wasn’t going to London after all made me reckless.

I don’t know.

Maybe I was just being totally, utterly stupid.

I decided to pay Gabriela back. I would steal that necklace she was always dangling at me. Then she would know how it felt to lose something.

But what happened next was not of my making.

Guilty.

Mad Nena’s voice whispered in my ears like poison.

No, I’m not.

Coward. Running away.

‘I am NOT running away,’ I said aloud.

Loser!

‘Leave me alone.’ I covered my ears.

It’s boiled itself dry!

‘Boiled itself …?’ I started at the illogical words.

‘
THE POT!
’ It was not Gabriela – it was Amandolina, screaming frantically at the bedroom door.

‘IT’S BOILED ITSELF DRY! AND THE BATH! YOU LEFT IT RUNNING AND IT’S FLOODED EVERYTHING!’

S
urprise, surprise, it was all my fault.

‘If you had come home at four like you promised, this would not have happened!’ Mum yelled.

‘I was in detention!’ I yelled back.

‘Detention! Of all days to behave badly!’

‘I wasn’t behaving badly!’

‘But you were in detention!’

‘I left Bernardo a
note
. I told him not to do ANYTHING!’

‘But you were
LATE
!’

And on and on and on.

Anyway, the upshot was: Mum grounded me for a week.

Which, of course, was convenient. Now Bernardo was guaranteed his babysitter after school every day and Mum and Dad could do all the double shifts they wanted at the hospital. Mum couldn’t have planned it better.

How was I to know that Bernardo would try to run a bath? A DINGBAT from the MOON would’ve known to watch the boiling pot and mind the running bath. It’s not like being FOREIGN exempts you from COMMON SENSE.

I mean, he’s sixteen. He’s practically an adult. I’m just thirteen. I’m barely a teenager.

He left Mum’s best soup pot burning on the stove. It was ruined. The carpet in the hall was ruined. The ceiling under the bathroom crumbled to pieces. Ruined.

I
was the one who raised the alarm.
I
was the one who turned off the heat.
I
turned off the taps.
I
cleared up the mess. Well. Bernardo spent hours scraping that pot with a scourer, but that was nothing. I mopped up the bathroom and covered the carpet with towels. But nobody’s going to thank me for that, are they?