Trash (6 page)

Jun laughed. ‘Definitely!’

Raphael said, ‘I want to come, po. But I’m working.’ He pushed his hair back and smiled his dazzling smile.

I reminded him that he could work and also do a
morning class. I reminded him that the school was set up for exactly that purpose: to let the children work while providing education. If they attend five days, they get two kilos of rice and a few bits and pieces extra, depending on what’s been donated – that is the incentive. Raphael looked at me, and I wondered if he was thinking that obvious thought:
And what use is an education to me?

He said, ‘I will come, po.’

Then Jun took the plate and glasses into my kitchen. He insisted on washing them, and setting them in the drying rack. Then he gave me a hug and I slipped him fifty pesos.

The other boys were waiting for him outside, and they ran away together – I never saw them again. It was a few weeks later that I discovered they’d been lying. There had been no quiz, of course. They were finding out everything they could about Mr José Angelico, the man whose ID they’d found. They’d also been researching Gabriel Olondriz, who at that time was serving his twenty-third year in the city’s biggest prison.

Rat had been up to something too, which he will reveal in due course. They had all got what they wanted, and had deceived me beautifully.

This is Raphael again, and now it gets serious.

The police came that night, just like Gardo said they would, and searched our house. I was arrested.

Four van-loads came, and everyone in the block was ordered out. They had flashlights and batons, and they moved through fast while more and more people gathered, up from the other neighbourhoods. The police said nothing to anyone. They showed some bit of paper to Thomas – our senior man – and they didn’t wait for him to say anything. Then it took them less than an hour, and we all stood listening as they shouted to each other and threw things. Some of the little kids were crying, but most people were calm, just watching.

What could anyone do?

Then they got back in the vans, having found nothing.

I had not thought they would take me, because nobody
had said anything to me. I saw the young policeman again, and I saw him nod in my direction, and I realized they were talking about me. It still came as a surprise – I don’t know why – when two police came over and took hold of my arms.

This is going to be very difficult to write about, the next part, but it’s only me that can.

I did not know what to do. I did not make a sound, and I did not move – I was too scared to breathe and I didn’t know which man to look up at. Gardo was right with me at once, and he was talking fast, saying, ‘What are you doing? What’s he done?’ over and over, touching me. My auntie started to scream, and then she fell down on the ground. Immediately there was a great commotion, and I saw how important it was that I was not taken. People were shouting; some were pleading with the policemen, and getting between me and the car. One of the vans had stopped, and some police were coming back, but before I could take in any more, I was walked to the car that had its door open, my arms held hard. Gardo got his arm round me, but someone pushed him off, and I heard him shouting over the top of everyone else, but one of his uncles had hold of him. I got to the car and I tried to back off, but I was dragged and pushed. I was between two big men, and whatever I said, nobody heard me – I twisted, but I was just picked up, and I was in the back seat. Doors slammed, and I saw Gardo again. He was screaming at me, trying to get to me, and a policeman grabbed him by the
neck and threw him off. Then the car was moving and I was crying. I saw faces through the window, staring at me, shouting at me, but I couldn’t see anyone I knew, and Gardo was gone.

I was so frightened I felt sick and I couldn’t stop crying.

We were bumping and rocking because the road is so rutted and the driver was going as fast as he could. There was still a crowd around me, and someone was banging on the roof – and then we were through the gates, and on the road. They put their siren on, and we whipped through. Red lights didn’t matter, the traffic police waved us on. For some reason it didn’t feel quite so bad when we were going past stores, and the roads were full of people, and everything was lit up. But when we turned off into smaller roads, there were no people, and soon there were no lights.

I have never felt so lost and lonely, and I still could not stop crying. I said, ‘Where are we going?’

One man said, ‘Where do you think we’re going?’

I said, ‘I haven’t done anything, sir.’

The man said, ‘Keep still, boy – we know that.’

‘I haven’t done anything, sir,’ I said again. I kept saying it through my sobs.

I tried to keep still, like the man had told me to, but I couldn’t. I was rocking backwards and forwards. All you can think about is how alone you are, and how anything can happen now. A little while ago, things had felt safe
and ordinary – my auntie, Gardo, the cousins, the fire – and people, all around me. Now! It is like falling through a trapdoor. In a second, every single thing had changed, and you are falling – your friends cannot get to you, nobody knows where you are, and you think,
So when do I stop falling?
You think,
What plan do they have for me that I can do nothing about?

Rat had the envelope. Rat had the ID. I would not give either of them up because we knew more now. We knew about José Angelico, and there was a fight beginning.

The streets and buildings were all grey-cement coloured, and we drove left, right, up, down, and came round fast into a car park, up close to a heavy-looking gate. A policeman with a dog opened it, and we drove through, and down a ramp. To be going down, underground, was more frightening still, and I started to cry harder. I called for my auntie as well, and that is when – I will be honest – I wet myself.

We stopped in bright lights, and I was taken out of the car. I could hardly move by myself, and a policeman had to pull me – not because I was resisting, but because I was so frightened my legs wouldn’t work. He spoke quite softly and put his arm round me, half carrying me. We went down some steps and through metal doors. We came to a corridor, and there were cells on either side of it, all with numbers. A policeman opened one of the doors, and I was put inside. The door closed and I stood there, not knowing what to do, feeling so sick I thought I would fall over
and die. Seconds later, the door opened again with lots of noise, and a policeman came in and told me to sit down.

I sat on the floor, and I was sick. I hadn’t eaten much, but up it came and went all over my knees, and I started crying again, and I had never before heard the sounds that I was making – I had never cried like I was crying then.

The policeman sat on the bench, and he didn’t close the door this time. I think he realized that I was too frightened to be left alone and that somebody should be with me. The policeman gave me a little towel, and I tried to clean myself, but my hands would not work.

Time passed.

There was nothing in the cell but the bench, which was concrete. The policeman said a few things to me, just casual questions about who I was. I found that I couldn’t speak, much as I tried to. After a while, a man in a light grey suit came in and looked at me. He asked me my name. I managed to say it, but my voice wasn’t my voice.

‘Six,’ he said. ‘We’ll use six.’

He went out, and two policemen came and lifted me to my feet. They had to almost carry me. I was taken back along the corridor, and this time up some steps instead of down. We climbed high and then passed some offices, with policemen working in them. Nobody looked up. We turned some corners, and I remember a sign board with pictures of a beach, and there was a list of names. I saw a clock, and it said two-twenty. Then we went into a room with a number six chalked on the door, and there was a
metal table with the man in the suit sitting at it, having got there ahead of us. Behind him, standing, was the important police officer who had first come to Behala – the rough guy with the smashed nose. Behind him was a window, and next to him was a third man in shirt sleeves, bald and sweaty and angry and tired-looking.

I was put in a chair.

‘Raphael,’ said the tired man. ‘Raphael Fernández? You know where you are?’

I shook my head.

‘You’re in Ermita Police Station. You know why you’re here?’

I shook my head again, and tried to speak. Nothing came out.

‘We need the bag you found,’ said the policeman.

There was silence then, and my throat was so dry I had no idea what my voice would sound like if I managed to say something. But I tried and tried, and the words came from somewhere. ‘I didn’t find a bag, sir,’ I said. Still I didn’t recognize this voice that was coming out of me.

‘This isn’t going to end, Raphael, until you give us the bag.’

‘I didn’t find a bag, sir,’ I said. I had to make myself a child – just a terrified, foolish child. ‘I promise, sir. I swear.’

A cup of water was put next to me, and when I tried to pick it up, I spilled it. I started to cry again, and I wanted to go to the toilet. The tired man waited while someone mopped up the water.

‘All you have to do,’ he said, ‘is take us back to your house. Give us the bag – wherever you put it. We give you money, like we said we would. Everyone’s happy.’

I managed to look at him.

‘I swear to God, sir. I swear on my mother’s soul: I did not find a bag. I found money. I found eleven hundred pesos, and that’s all—’

‘You found money.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘So you
did
lie? You
did
find something?’

‘Yes, sir, I did.’

‘Where did you find it? When?’

‘By belt number four. Thursday afternoon.’ I was lying. I didn’t want them to know where I’d been. The problem is, your own lies can trap you. The man in the grey suit was writing things down.

‘Who were you with? Who saw you?’

‘Nobody, sir. I was—’

‘That’s a lie,’ said the policeman, and he came at me from the side. I don’t know where he hit me or what with, but I was knocked to the floor. My chair turned over and the side of my face was split. I fell badly, and my wrist was bent under me, and I saw him standing over me and I thought he was going to start kicking. I screamed, ‘No! No! No!’ over and over again, and tried to get under the table. The policeman didn’t kick me. He reached down, grabbed me, and he and the man in the suit lifted me up
by the hair and an arm, and I was put back in the chair. Someone had me by the hair still.

‘I was with Gardo,’ I shouted. There was blood in my mouth. ‘Just my friend! But I didn’t give him money! He didn’t see me find it. I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I was with Gardo, and I found some money – I did not …’ I started to sob. ‘I did not find a bag!’

‘And the shoe?’ said the policeman behind me. He was the one holding my hair. ‘What about the shoe?’

‘I didn’t find a shoe, I was lying!’ I cried. I tried to wipe my face, but it was all blood and snot, and I was slapped again, hard, so that lights were flashing. ‘I found the money!’ I shouted. ‘I didn’t want to …’ I was panting for breath, and I started to sob. The policeman was leaning over me, one big hand on the table, one hand twisting my hair.

‘What was the money in?’ said the suit man. ‘Leave him alone.’

‘It was wrapped up in paper,’ I said. ‘I think it was a bill.’

‘Eleven hundred pesos, wrapped in a bill?’

‘It was an electricity bill, sir. I think. It was orange, and I think they’re the electrical bills.’ I was thinking so fast, just fighting for my life.

‘You can read, can you?’ said the man in the suit. ‘This piece of shit can read?’

‘Yes, sir, I can read!’

‘How’s that? Huh?’ He stood opposite me, leaned in
and lifted my face. I could smell his cigarettes and his sweat. ‘Who taught trash like you to read? What’s your name?’

‘Raphael, sir—’

‘Who taught you to read?’

‘Gardo, and my auntie.’

‘What kind of bill? What address?’

‘I didn’t see, I didn’t look.’

‘How much money?’

‘Eleven hundred.’

‘Exactly eleven hundred? How many notes?’

‘One five, six ones.’

‘Where are they now?’

‘I gave them to my auntie. I kept one for myself.’

‘What about the bag?’

‘No bag, sir.’

‘I’m going to kill you, you liar!’ He lunged at me, and I was falling backwards, but the policeman lifted me and the suit man had my throat. I was up against the wall, and that is when I lost control and simply … all down my legs, I lost control – I was so frightened – and I was stinking, and I was shouting, ‘I didn’t find a bag, sir!’

‘Get him out – get rid of him!’

I was lifted up and they were carrying me to the window. The man in the suit was opening it, I was held by the policeman by my ankle and my arm, and I was going towards it sideways – it was coming at me, this big open window. I remember warm air. I remember suddenly I was
out, and the hand holding my arm let go, and I was upside down, held by just one ankle – I could see the filthy wall: it was like a pit – and a long way down below me I could see a stone floor with what looked like trash cans. I was screaming so much now, and when I looked up they were all looking down at me.

‘Where’s the bag?’ shouted one of them. ‘Did you find it?’

All I could shout was no. Gardo has asked me – Rat too – did I come close to giving in? And the truth is, no, I did not. It sounds crazy, but there was a part of me sure I’d never found it, and some other part of me begging me not to give it up – maybe for José Angelico, because we knew more about him now. The hand on my ankle was tight, and I knew any second it could let me go and I would fall. I would fall on my head and be broken. The man was shaking me, and everything was spinning, and there was blood, sweat, my own mess, and the walls turning, but I would not say anything other than no, and they would believe me or it would just be over.

I was suddenly dragged up.

They hauled me in over the edge so all my chest was cut, but I hardly knew it at the time. I was stood up and slapped again, and then they all waited.