Mira in the Present Tense (26 page)

“Open the curtains a bit wider,” Nana orders.

I pull them back as far as they'll go and rest beside Nana on the edge of her bed. We watch Simon jump on his bike and pedal up the road, facing into the path of the rain. He lifts his right hand in the air, like a salute, as if he knows we're watching him. As soon as he's out of sight, Nana drifts off to sleep.

I think of all the energy Nana has put into her life, the things she believes in, all the struggles she's had, and the people she's loved; all that energy is draining away in front of me. She's giving things away: first the charm, her easel, things for Krish and Laila to choose, and now the protest book…these things that mean so much to her.

See you after school today

Love

JJ

Since “love” appeared it seems that we're not sending kisses anymore. Maybe Jidé's holding them back for later!

Great!

Love

Mira

“Come straight back home after school…We'll take Laila to see Nana,” says Mum at breakfast.

That's when I remember that I haven't even told her I'm going back to Jidé's after school, and that's when it escapes from my mouth…my next lie.

“Didn't I tell you I'm going to Millie's after school?”

“Oh! OK, that's fine, that's good,” says Mum, looking a bit surprised, but too busy feeding Laila to think too much about it. “Do you need picking up?”

“No, it's OK. They'll walk me back. If not, I'll call you,” I say, waving my mobile in front of Mum.

“Any calls yet?”

“Not yet. I wish everyone would
stop
asking me that. You sound like Nana!”

Why am I lying to my mum?

Then, she does something she's never done before.

“Here, you'd better have these, just in case we're late back,” she says, handing me the front-door keys.

“That's not fair! Why can't I have keys?” moans Krish, jumping up and down in an attempt to grab them off me.

“That'll be because you're only nine,” I say.

Krish pinches my arm hard. I just ignore him, tucking the keys into my blazer pocket before Mum changes her mind. As soon as I hear Millie climbing our steps I run for the front door to stop her clanking the letterbox, but I get there just one clank too late.

“Hi, Millie!” shouts Mum from the kitchen. “Thank your mum for having Mira for tea.”

Millie looks confused, but I slam the door behind us before she can answer.

“But I came early to see Laila,” she protests.

“Sorry, it was just madness in there. I had to get out.”

“I didn't know you were coming for tea.”

“I'm not. Mum hasn't got a clue what's going on these days, what with Laila and Nana.”

“Is Laila going to be OK now?”

I nod. Laila will be fine, but I, on the other hand, will probably be struck down by lightning, the amount of lying I've been doing. I don't even know why I lied about going to Millie's, except that Mum and Dad would have probably made a big deal about me going to Jidé's house…and Krish would definitely have teased me about it. I suppose that's why. But the problem with lying is once you start, you end up having to lie again and again, over and over.

All day long I can think of nothing else except going to Jidé's. When I sit on the wall at break time, I can't even think of anything to say to Millie. Just like with Nana, now that there are secrets between us it isn't that easy to chat anymore.

“What are you doing tonight?” I ask Millie.

“Orchestra, I
told
you.”

“Sorry, I forgot.”

At the end of the day, I hang around in the classroom. “See you on Monday,” Millie shouts, hoisting her cello onto her back and lumbering off to orchestra practice. You can just see her head bobbing up and down above the top of her case.

Jidé is sitting on the other side of the room from me. There's only me, Ben, and Jidé left in the classroom, and Ben's on his way out.

“Playing footie?” calls Ben from the doorway.

“I can't,” sighs Jidé.

“Suit yourself,” Ben shrugs, running out into the courtyard.

“Ready?” Jidé asks, grinning at me.

“Ready,” I say, grinning back.

“I didn't tell Ben…”

“I didn't tell Millie…” I don't tell him I didn't even tell my mum and dad, which, at least, I suppose he must have done.

By the time we get out into the courtyard most people have gone home. There is no sign of Millie or Ben. So we walk out of the school gates together. Jidé throws his arm round my shoulder, which I suppose is meant to show just about the whole world that we're going out together. He lives just across the Rec in a row of modern houses split up into flats. When we reach his bright red door, the color of a postbox, he takes his key out of his bag and lets himself into flat 22A.

“Want something to eat? Sit down,” Jidé says, pointing to the floor. That's when I realize why this room looks so enormous—there are no chairs or sofas in it. Just loads of brightly colored cushions scattered everywhere. There are little alcoves in the walls with sculptures in them. They look like African sculptures in dark, smooth wood…sculptures of women with long necks. There are photos all over the place. Quite a lot of them are of Jidé, school photos, that sort of thing, but there are other photos in black and white…of whole families crammed into tents. Jidé's mum and dad are in a lot of these photos, looking hot and tired. This must be Rwanda. I have to pull myself away from the faces in these pictures. Downstairs is just one big room—a kitchen and living room all together. The walls are white, full of crammed bookshelves and colorful woven rugs.

“I love where you live.”

Jidé smiles and shrugs, looking around as if he's never really thought about it before. Then there's a click in the lock.

“Hi, Jidé!”

Ms. Jackson, who is Jidé's mum, lugs shopping bags and a pile of schoolbooks through the door. He helps her in.

“Hi, Grace, Mira's here.”

She looks up, as if she's completely forgotten I was coming.

“Hello, Mira! Fancy pizza for tea?”

I nod and smile but don't say anything. I can feel her checking me over.

“Good. I'll call you when it's ready.”

Then she goes over to the answerphone to pick up messages. I'm grateful that she's too busy to pay me much attention. We walk up the two steps to Jidé's room. There's just a mattress on the floor with cushions all over it. Books are stacked up all around the walls. Each pile is about ten books deep.

“Have you read all these?”

Jidé nods. I can feel him watching my every move.

He has a shelf with football medals, shells, fossils, precious stones, and a photo of his mum and dad standing with two children: a girl of about three or four years old, who looks like Jidé. She's holding a baby in her arms, a bit younger than Laila, wrapped in a thin piece of orange cloth with frayed edges.

“What object will you bring in for Pat Print?” I ask.

“I dunno…I haven't thought about it yet, maybe a photo. How about you?”

“The artichoke-heart charm my nana gave me. I'll bring that.”

“How is she, your nana?”

“Worse,” I say.

“I'm sorry.”

“I think she's going to die soon.”

“Aren't you frightened for her?” asks Jidé.

Frightened? I think it's a strange question. It has never crossed my mind to be frightened of Nana dying.

“No, I'm not. I think it's because
she's
not frightened and she's got everyone around her who loves her.”

Jidé nods.

“What does she think happens next? Does she believe in God and all that?”

“No, she's not really into religion,” I tell him.

“I don't…do you?” he asks me.

“I don't know. Sometimes I want to…How can you be so sure?”

As soon as I've asked the question, I regret it.

“If God existed, what happened to my family, to all those people…it just wouldn't happen if God exists. That's what I think. But then Grace and Jai, they still have faith, even after everything they've seen.”

“I made a wish when Laila was ill. I thought maybe she was going to die so I asked for Nana to die and not Laila.”

“Asked who?”

“Notsurewho Notsurewhat.”

Jidé laughs.

“That's what I call God…or whatever…because I just don't know what I believe in.”

“I think the deal with religion is you have to have faith! Your nana is dying anyway. It's just you couldn't stand the thought of your sister dying too. That's
my
sister.” He nods over to the photo on his shelf. “Apparently, she carried me into the camp where Grace and Jai were working…they called it a safe zone…I was wrapped up in that bit of cloth. They couldn't get her to speak, not even to tell them our names, but…you'll probably think this is a bit weird, sometimes she sings to me in my sleep.”

“It's not weird. My dreams are crazy too…but you must be so sick of me talking about my nana.”

“Why? I love talking to you.” Jidé smiles his melt-your-heart gentle smile. I wonder if he knows what effect that has on me.

“How did your sister die?” I ask Jidé, staring up at the photo of her holding him in her arms.

“Cholera, in the end. She didn't survive the camp,” he says in a matter-of-fact way, as if he's talking about someone completely disconnected from him. I don't even really know what cholera is. Then I turn to see Jidé holding out a rag of orange woven cloth for me to take a closer look. It's the same piece of cloth that was wrapped around baby Jidé in the photo.

As I feel the fraying edges of Jidé's precious cloth, I think of Krish and how much he bugs me and how I would miss him if he was gone. I think of how hard I prayed for Laila to live. If only I could do something to bring Jidé's sister back, but I can do nothing. I place the folded cloth back into his hand and as I do so he folds his hand over mine so that we are both holding the cloth and each other.

“So you read my note then?” Jidé smiles at me cheekily.

“I did…about a hundred times. I'm thinking of framing it!” I laugh.

“For someone so quiet, Mira Levenson…you've got the loudest laugh.” Jidé laughs back and before I know what's happening he's holding my head in his hands and kissing me on the lips. At first, I'm so surprised I just freeze, and then my lips feel all tingly and my face is scarlet red, but I don't pull away from him, because of how it feels to be this close, to be actually kissing Jidé Jackson. When it's over, what we've done feels so weird that I can't help it—I just burst out laughing again.

“What did you think?” Jidé asks, grinning at me.

I can't stop giggling enough to answer him.

“I was deadly serious actually! Here, I'll give you something to laugh about,” he says, grabbing hold of my feet and tickling me.