Home Girl. Alex Wheatle
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“You’ve got a DVD player in your room,” I reasoned. “It’s one of them Blu-ray ones an’ all. And Pablo hasn’t even got a TV.”
“Me and Tony don’t have to do any homework,” said Colleen. “And we aren’t learning to read. When we first fostered kids they had everything they wanted in their rooms. Games, TVs, the lot. But you learn with experience.”
“They slapped on my door,” I said. “I was just trying to show ’em that we’re mates. I didn’t want ’em to be scared of me . . . sometimes I get that.”
Colleen nodded once. “I understand,” she said.
“It’s good that we’re chiming on that one,” I said.
“It’s just that I don’t think they’ve seen anything like—” Colleen stuttered “—what you showed them yesterday evening. Sharyna had a bad night.”
“But Pablo loved it,” I defended myself. “His cheeks were having a chuckle party.”
“I don’t think he did like it, Naomi. Sometimes kids at his age pretend to like things.”
More social worker speak.
“Horror films never bothered me,” I said. “Been watching ’em since I was six. Mum used to go down to the Woodside market and get ’em for a pound fifty each. Later on, when Dad was out of it and I couldn’t go to school cos I had to look after him, I’d spend the afternoon watching ’em. Then at the unit, Kim knew this Korean bruv who sold DVDs. He wanted five pounds each but Kim would only give him three. She hustles good like that.”
“Not every kid’s like you, Naomi. Many will get nightmares.”
“I’m not a kid!”
Shouldn’t have raised my voice. Louise is always going on about it.
I dropped my tone. “Did Sharyna have a proper nightmare?”
“No, but it took her a long time to get to sleep,” said Colleen. “I had to read something to her.”
“She should’ve said something. I would’ve turned it off.”
“She’s not going to say anything, Naomi. She wants you to think she’s cool.”
I couldn’t argue with that. Why wouldn’t Sharyna wanna be cool like moi?
I sank the last of my Coke. Colleen watched me lick my lips and place the glass down on the table. “What time is Louise coming to pick you up?” she asked.
“About twelve,” I replied. “She’s taking me out to lunch. Been asking her for months to take me out to that TGI place in Cranerley but she’s not busting out her purse on that one. Don’t tell her I said so but Louise is the Duchess of Cheapo. Kim’s social worker took her to TGIs and Nats’s social worker took her to a Harvester when she kissed fifteen. I ghetto it out with Louise on McD’s or Zubaretti’s Fish and Chips off Ashburton High Street.”
“Do you want me to finish your hair before you go?”
“Course . . . I mean, yes please! Don’t wanna go out looking like a reject from Pirates of the Caribbean.”
“Okay. Get your shower and I’ll be ready for you.”
I washed up the frying pan, plate, and glass, and dried them too. I stacked everything back in the cupboards as Colleen watched me. “Thank you, Naomi,” she said.
* * *
The local TV news was just finishing its lunchtime shift. Another gangland murking in Crongton. Some fifteen-year-old bruv nicknamed Joe Grine was found punctured in the Crongton stream near Gulley Wood. Monkey on a nail bed, Ashburton is toxic but wouldn’t like to live in Crongton with all that warring going on.
I grabbed the TV remote control and surfed the music channels. Too many commercials. The doorbell rang. Colleen went to answer it.
I heard Louise from the hallway. I thumbed the volume down and pricked up my ears so I could tune in to their convo. “Sorry I’m a bit late,” Louise said. “I had a bit of paperwork to catch up with. Everything all right? Any problems?”
I couldn’t help but bust a giggle. I covered my mouth.
“Er, yes,” Colleen admitted. “We had a bit of an issue about Naomi’s choice of DVDs. She invited Pablo and Sharyna to watch one with her.”
My Mad Killer Driller DVD wasn’t getting much love.
“Oh,” Louise replied. “I should’ve confiscated them from her. Unfortunately, her friends seem to have a liking for them.”
“She got a bit upset when Tony took it away,” said Colleen. “She went off to our room and took a load of our DVDs, but she gave them back this morning and apologized. So it’s all been sorted.”
“Good,” said Louise.
“Coffee?” offered Colleen.
“That’ll be great. Where is she?”
Monkey on bubbles. They’re so fricking polite it’s a wonder they don’t wipe each other’s asses.
“In the front room,” Colleen said.
I switched off the TV, bounced in front of Louise in the hallway, and hot-toed to the kitchen. I clicked on the kettle. “Coffee, Louise?”
Louise didn’t answer. She also forgot to sit down. Instead, she stood very still, hands on hips, and scoped my hair.
“What’s your ratings?” I asked, twirling my thumb and forefinger around a braid.
“It’s . . . nice, Naomi.”
“Colleen did it for me. It diversifies my shoulders neatly.”
“Yes . . . it’s definitely different,” said Louise. She finally parked her butt.
“Biscuits?” offered Colleen.
“Not today,” said Louise. She studied my plaits like Tarzan was swinging through them. “I don’t want to spoil my lunch.”
“TGIs?” I suggested.
I might as well try it, she can only say no.
“Let’s not go there again,” replied Louise. “Too expensive.”
The Duchess of Cheapo strikes again. I’m gonna give her a Duchess of Cheapo hat when it’s her birthday.
“Kim’s social worker took her