Black Sheep (18 page)

“What?”

“You heard me, Dwayne Kingston! I blame you for this!”

“Mum, I had nothing to do with this, I swear down! I didn’t even know Jay had gone out! How was I supposed to know that he was robbing old ladies?” I tried to go up to her and
hug her, take her arm and make her sit down or something. It was the shock, for sure. That was why she was acting so crazy.

But instead of letting me hold her, she reached up and slapped me across the face.

“Shut up, Dwayne!” she shrieked, her face screwed up, her eyes blazing. “What kind of fool do you take me for? You think I don’t know what’s been going on these
last few years? You think I don’t know what you get up to when you’re out with your boys? You think I don’t know about the drugs, the stealing, the money you’ve got hidden
in your sofa?”

Total shock.

“You think I’m blind? That I don’t see the trainers, the sound systems, the clothes? You think I don’t know where you got the money for all that?”

I couldn’t say anything. I was still reeling from the slap and the force of her words. And the way she was looking at me, like she proper hated me, cut deeper than any of Jukkie’s
knives ever could.

“You brought all that madness into my house! And the worst thing is, Jay
idolises
you, wants to be just like his big brother when he grows up – and now look where it’s
got him!”

“Nah, Mum, don’t even go there, yeah! I love Jay! There is nothing I wouldn’t do for that kid and he knows it!”

“Jay doesn’t need that kind of love, Dwayne! He doesn’t need you as a guide to life. There is nothing that you can give my son, Dwayne, nothing! And you know why?” Then
she leaned in real close and poked me in my chest. “Because you’re wort’less. You’re wort’less, just like your father!”

I swallowed hard to gulp back the tears. What was it about the way she said it that cut so deep? I wished I knew. If I knew, maybe I would have been able to protect myself or something. But I
couldn’t. All I could say was, “So, what, I’m not your son now? It’s all about Jay now?”

But she carried on talking as if I hadn’t said anything. “You know, Dwayne, that day we were in the headteacher’s office, I thought there was hope for you. I thought that you
were going to change, to stop your badness and be the son that I always hoped you would be. But you’ve let me down again and again, and now your actions have hurt the most precious thing in
my life.” She took a deep breath.

“I want you out, Dwayne,
out
of my house.”

“
What
?”

“Pack your tings, take your lickle stash of money from your sofa and
leave this house
. I don’t want you here when Jay wakes up in the morning.”

“Mum! I’m sixteen, I’ve got my exams coming up – where am I supposed to go?”

“You think I care? No, Dwayne, it’s way too late for that. Go to one of your boys; I’m sure one of them will take you. As for me, I’m finished with you.”

And she turned on her heel and marched out of the kitchen. It was all I could do not to start bawling right there.

Now what was I going to do?

It was well late when I knocked on Tony’s door in Camberwell. I had spent most of the night walking the streets in a daze, not knowing where to go, who to turn to. My mind
turned from Misha to Jukkie to the other boys to Ms Walker – none of them could help me now.

“Oh, God,” I found myself praying. “Help me.” Then I thought of Tony and I knew that he would have my back, just like the old days. I didn’t expect him to answer
his door but when he did, I almost cried with relief.

“Hey, what’s up, man?” he yawned, rubbing his eyes.

“Long story, bro... can I cotch with you for a few days?”

“Beef at home, huh?”

I nodded. I still couldn’t talk about it.

“Of course, man.” Tony smiled, punching me on the shoulder. “Any time. Come in.”

MISHA

“Misha? Yes, she’s here...” Leona looked over at me, her eyebrows raised. “You’d like to speak to her?”

I shook my head vigorously. I had just spent the last hour crying into one of Dad’s Ethiopian cushions. I certainly did not want to speak to my mother.

“Well...” Leona was visibly uncomfortable. “Misha’s a bit tied up right now. Can I get her to call you back? No? You want to speak to Isaiah? OK, hold on...” Leona
called out to my dad. “Isaiah, Dina wants to speak to you. Maybe you’d better take it on the other line...”

Leona put the phone down carefully and came to sit next to me on the sofa. She didn’t say anything and I was grateful for that. I had done more than enough crying for one day. If she said
anything, I knew I would burst into tears all over again. She just rubbed my back and started singing under her breath. It was really comforting. So comforting that I forgot to be nervous about
what Mum was telling Dad.

Big mistake.

When Dad had finished on the phone, he came out of his bedroom. His face was red. He asked Leona to excuse us. Then he sat down and gave it to me, really gave it to me. He was shocked about
Dwayne. He couldn’t believe that I had been lying to Mum and him all this time. He was furious with me for fighting with Mum – a cardinal sin as far as he was concerned. But worse than
anything, he was disappointed in me.

“You’ve betrayed our trust, Misha,” he kept saying. “This is not what I expect from you.”

Then, just before he got up to go, he added, “Your mother said that some kid tried to rob your gran today. She took a fall but she’s OK. They caught the kid who did it. She said you
should call her.”

Of course I called Gran straight away. She sounded all right, just angry. “I don’t know what the world is coming to,” she kept saying. “Right there, on Coldharbour Lane.
Lawd a’ mercy.”

“Don’t worry, Gran,” I said, trying to sound reassuring. “I’m sure the police will deal with him, whoever he is. He was probably just doing it for a dare or
something, you know what kids are like.”

I promised to go and see her in the week. Then I went to bed, Dad’s words echoing in my head. They kept me up all night, crying over everything that had gone so horribly wrong.

Where was Dwayne? I didn’t know – and Mum had made Dad take away my phone until they could decide what to do with me. I couldn’t even call him to hear his voice, to remind
myself of why I was putting myself through all this trauma. I felt exhausted and utterly alone. Sleep couldn’t come fast enough.

Dad took the kids to school the next day. Leona had taken a day off and it was clear that they had decided that I needed some time to get myself together. Leona was very kind to
me and called the school and told them that I was feeling under the weather.

“She should be in tomorrow,” she said. “Just let her get back on her feet.”

“Dad’s really good with the kids, isn’t he?” I remarked, after watching Dad get all the kids ready for school and out the door. “Mum always said that Dad never
helped her at all when I was young.”

“Well,” said Leona, shaking the clothes out before putting them in the washing machine. “People change, you know? When we got together, he was a very traditional Rastaman,
absolutely useless around the house, never wanted to get his hands dirty. But I soon let him know that that wasn’t happening, not with me working and all that. So he got the picture and
started helping out a lot more – and now he loves it!”

I got up to help Leona fold the dry clothes that had come out of the dryer.

“Do you really believe that people can change? Mum always says that a leopard never changes his spots...”

“I suppose it depends on whether they want to change. I believe that anyone can change if they put their mind to it. Where there’s a will, there’s a way, that’s what I
say.”

“But what if the odds are stacked against you?” I asked, avoiding looking Leona in the eye. “What if everyone is telling you that you’ll never amount to anything and they
won’t even give you a chance? What then?”

“Are you talking about your fella, Dwayne?”

I didn’t say anything. Everything was very still. Leona had stopped folding clothes, the street outside was empty – even Josh’s constant chatter had ceased. I felt heat rise to
my face and I faltered. I looked into Leona’s calm green eyes to see whether I could trust her. Leona stood quietly, her hands on the pile of clothes in front of her, a serious yet tender
look on her face.

“Don’t you think it’s time to trust us, Misha?” she asked softly, reaching out to touch my fringe. “Don’t you think it’s time to let us in?”

I closed my eyes. How did she know that all I wanted was someone to talk to, someone I could trust to listen without judging and going crazy on me?

“Oh, Leona!” I cried, my chin quivering. “I just don’t know where to start!”

“Come,” said Leona, leading me away from the ironing board towards the kitchen table. “Let’s start with a cup of green tea.”

While Leona put the kettle on, I cleaned Josh’s cornflakes-covered face with a flannel. But my mind was elsewhere. Was I really ready to tell Leona everything? Although I had always liked
Leona – partly because she never tried to force our relationship or take Mum’s place – I had always harboured a tiny spot of resentment towards her. She had Dad, after all, and
Mum had no one. And although I liked Leona, confiding in her was not something I had ever thought to do. I sensed that Mum would feel slighted, that I had chosen my stepmother over her. And yet
there was something about her tone, that look in Leona’s eyes, that told me to trust her.

Leona took Josh out of his high chair and sat him down with some books and toys in front of the TV. When she came back into the kitchen, she smiled cheerily and sat down across the table from
me.

“Right,” she said. “Let’s begin at the beginning. How did you two meet?”

But before we got to that, I had to get one thing straight: “Umm, Leona,” I looked at her earnestly, “before I say anything, please promise that you won’t go telling Mum
and Dad. Please? I want to tell you what’s been going on, I need advice, but I don’t want to get into any more trouble with either of them.”

Leona looked at me steadily as she sipped her steaming hot tea. “I won’t tell if you don’t want me to, Misha. Now go on, tell me how it all began.”

So I went for it, I told her everything: about the party where we first met, about Dwayne’s poetry, about his eyes. I told her about the afternoon in Battersea Park, about reading Golding
under the oak trees.

“That must have been really special, Misha,” smiled Leona, a soft look in her eyes. “Not many boys know how to romance a girl like that these days.”

“That’s the funny thing, Leona, it didn’t feel like he was trying to sweeten me up or ‘chirps’ me or anything. Even he said that he’d never done anything like
that before – but it just felt right somehow...” I smiled and blushed as I remembered how Dwayne had looked when he made up those lines about chocolate-fudge sweetness, a supermodel
smile and a mean left hook.

He had looked so open that day, open and unafraid, as if he knew instinctively that he could trust me, that I had his back, that I was on his side. And I was, I realised, even now. Because the
belief that I’d had then, the certainty that he was different somehow – special – hadn’t changed, even after everything that had happened. The only thing I wondered about
now was whether it meant anything: was I just one of those gullible girls, blinded by ‘lurve’ – or was this real?

Leona’s face changed when I told her about Dwayne meeting Mum and Auntie Loretta and Auntie Dionne. “That must have been tough...”

“It was awful!” I cried. “And Mum basically shut it down after that, told me I wasn’t allowed to see him again.”

“So why did you disobey her?”

“I didn’t, not straight away. I told him we couldn’t see each other any more but then...”

“Then what?”

“Dwayne said it didn’t matter what she thought. That what mattered was what I thought, what I felt about him. And no one had ever told me that before.” I bit my lip. “And
I realised that all my life I’ve been living by Mum’s rules: what she likes, what she doesn’t like, who she approves of. And I thought, no, this time I have to do what I want...
That’s what the fight was about last night...”