Pigeon English (4 page)

Dean's my second-best friend. He's my best friend at school and Jordan is my best friend outside of school. It's Dean who told me to put my dinner money in my sock so the robbers can't find it. He does it all the time, now he never gets robbed anymore.

I tried it but it felt too lumpy. I couldn't walk properly. I just keep my dinner money in my pocket. Nobody will rob me anyway, I haven't done anything to them.

Me: 'Do you think it's the dead boy's own fault they chooked him? That's what my sister's friend said. I don't believe her. I think she might be a fugly. Do you think they'll catch who did it?'

Dean: 'Don't bet on it, the coppers round here ain't got the skills. They should get CSI on the case, they'll crack it in no time.'

Me: 'What's a CSI?'

Dean: 'They're like the top detectives in America, they know the best tricks and they can find the clues that no one else has even thought of. It's not just on telly, it's real. I seen this one, there was this gang going round busting people up, like just with baseball bats and stamping on their heads and stuff.'

Me: 'Why?'

Dean: 'I dunno, just for a laugh. And there was no witnesses or nothing but CSI got this special computer program that can tell what kind of trainers you've got just from the pattern on the bottom, yeah? And they matched the footprints on the dead man's face to the killer's footprints, that's how they got him. It was well smart.'

Me: 'That is well smart. They should do the same thing here. Maybe we could find the footprints.'

Dean: 'Maybe, but our technology's shit though, innit. We ain't even got the right equipment. Oi, watch it!'

Terry Takeaway nearly crashed into us. He was running like a maniac. He didn't even see us. He had a big tray of chickens under his arm. I knew it was too heavy. The tray slipped and some of the chickens fell off. Terry Takeaway didn't even stop, he just carried on running. His eyes were all big from concentrating, it was very funny. We had to jump out of the way.

Butcher: 'Come back here you little f—er!'

The butcher tried chasing him but he was too fat. He just gave up. The other pissheads were waiting outside on the big library steps. They all took a chicken and went running off in every direction. Even Asbo ran away. He just thought it was a game. He was barking like crazy. We even wanted them to get away. Asweh, it was very funny. Dean said we should come this way every day. We made it a new rule.

I don't even know where the real chickens are. Everybody just buys them already dead and plucked. It even feels crazy. I miss their faces. Their dead eyes were lovely, like they were dreaming of all the good times when they were running around in the sunshine pecking each other in the head.

Chicken: 'Peck peck peck peck!'

Other chicken: 'Peck off!'

When a baby dies they have to give it a name or it won't get into Heaven. Sometimes they're too sad to think of a name. Then Mamma thinks of a name for them. She usually gets them from the Bible. If the mamma doesn't believe in the Bible then she gets a name from the newspaper instead. One baby died today. It was ectopic.

Mamma: 'That's when it grows outside the womb. There's nothing you can do about it. Sometimes they just get lost.'

Mamma had to give the dead baby a name. She called it Katy after a lady in the newspaper. The baby's mamma was very pleased. She loved it.

Me: 'Next time a baby dies you can call it Harrison. She'd love it.'

Mamma: 'I can't do that, it's bad luck.'

Me: 'How?'

Mamma: 'It just is. Harrison is your name. I don't want anybody else to have it.'

A name is so Jesus will find you. Otherwise Jesus won't know who he's looking for and you'd just float in space forever. That would be hutious. What if you fell into the sun, you'd get burned up like human toast!

It's OK, the dead babies grow up in Heaven. Asweh, it was a mighty relief. I'd hate it if I had to stay a baby forever. You'd never learn how to read or talk. You'd be useless. I can't even remember what it feels like to be a baby. I was asleep most of the time. It was very boring. If I was like that forever I'd probably go crazy from head to toe.

There should be footprints by the bins, they should have stuck like when you jump in the puddle and jump out again. I looked for them before school but they were gone. Maybe the killer was wearing special trainers with no pattern, or maybe he just didn't press hard enough for it to work. I always press hard, it's how you make the best shapes. Breaktime can be for puddle-jumping, especially if it's rainy and there's too many teachers around for suicide bomber. I did a massive one. Then I went frozen for if the pigeon did a shit on me, but he just went past. I couldn't tell if it was my pigeon, he was too far away. In England bird shit is good luck. Everybody agrees.

Me: 'Even if it does it on your head?'

Connor Green: 'It don't matter where it does it as long as it lands on you. It can be anywhere.'

Me: 'What if it goes in your eye? What if it goes in your mouth and you eat it?'

Connor Green: 'It's still good luck. All shit's good luck. Everyone knows that.'

Vilis: 'Harri must be lucky then because he smells of shit.'

Asweh, I got red-eyes like a maniac when he said that. I wanted to destroy him but there were too many teachers around. I had to hold it in.

Dean: 'We weren't talking to you, spaz. Go and pick some spuds with your mum.'

Connor Green: 'Go and f—a cow.'

Vilis just said something in his language and ran away, he ran right through the puddle and ruined the game. The next time he abuses me I'm going to kick him in the nuts.

My coffin would be an aeroplane. The dead boy's coffin was just normal except it had the badge of Chelsea on it. It still looked bo-styles. All his family were very sad. It felt proper dark because of the rain and all the black they were wearing. There was no singing.

Mamma: 'God rest him.'

Mamma was squeezing me and Lydia the whole time. You couldn't tell her to stop. You couldn't dance because nobody else was dancing and anyway the rain made it too slippy. They wouldn't let us inside the church because we didn't know him enough. We had to wait outside. You couldn't see much for all the people in the way. I saw the cameraman from the TV. The lady who was telling the news kept stopping to get her hair fixed. She was taking donkey hours. It was very vexing. I just wanted her to shut up so I could hear what the speakers were saying.

Me: 'I wonder what songs they'll play.'

Bigger kid: 'Dizzee Rascal! They should play Suk My Dick, innit!'

Another bigger kid: 'You know it, man!'

TV news lady: 'Can you moderate your language please, we're filming here, thanks.'

Bigger kid: 'Modify this, bitch!'

He pretended to grab his bulla and pointed it at the lady. She didn't even see it, she was already turned around. He was only bluffing. He didn't even say it loud enough for her to hear.

Another bigger kid: 'Rarse!'

Where I used to live, some people have a special coffin in the shape of a real thing. It's something they loved the most when they were alive. If the lady was always sewing then her coffin would be a sewing machine. If the man loved beer it would be a beer bottle. I've seen them all. The coffin tells you what the person loved the most. One time the coffin was a taxi. The man who died was Joseph the taxi driver. I greeted the funeral. I was just coming back from taking the bottles to Samson's Kabin, one of the funeral ladies pulled me and made me dance with her. It was brutal fun. Everybody was happy. Everybody was allowed to join in. I even forgot that somebody died.

Me: 'They should have made his coffin a football boot. That would be even better.'

Mamma: 'Quiet, Harrison. Show respect.'

Me: 'Sorry!'

I'd have an aeroplane because I've never seen one like that before. Mine would be the first.

The dead boy's blood is all gone now, the rain washed it off. There was nothing you could do to stop it. I wanted to see his body, especially the eyes. I wanted to see if they were like the chickens and what dreams they gave away but the coffin was already closed before I got there.

I sneaked away from Mamma and Lydia, they didn't even know I was gone. Dean was waiting for me in the car park. We were spies. We watched the crowd for suspicious activity. That's when people act sneaky because they've got something to hide, Dean learned it from the real detective shows.

Dean: 'Sometimes the killer comes back to watch the funeral, he wants to rub the cops' noses in it. It's like saying you can't catch me, dumb-arses. It's like giving them the finger. He don't wanna get caught though, he's not that dumb. Look out for geezers with their hoods up.'

Me: 'Everyone's got their hood up, it's raining cats and dogs.'

It was true: all you could see was a hell of hoods like boats on the sea. They were at the back, the people near the front who actually loved the dead boy were sharing umbrellas instead. I wonder if opening an umbrella in church would give you double bad luck. It probably would. You'd probably fall down dead on the spot. At least you'd be in the right place, they could have your funeral straight away before the flies could even get to you!

Dean: 'Alright, and what colour hoodie was your geezer wearing? No, forget that, he'd have dumped it by now. Think, think.'

Me: 'I know, we could greet everybody and whoever doesn't shake our hand must be hiding something. Who wouldn't shake your hand at a funeral? We'll just go to everybody and say congratulations and see who doesn't join in.'

Dean: 'Commiserations, not congratulations.'

Me: 'Whatever. We'll ju st say sorry. Follow me.'

We squeezed into the back of the crowd where the hoods were all standing smoking fags and hiding from the TV camera for if it snapped them. We pretended like we were the official greeters, we went down the line shaking everybody's hand and saying sorry. Most of them just shook our hands and said sorry back, they knew it was serious and they had to show respect. It was proper quick and quiet.

Me and Dean: 'Sorry.'

Hoodie: 'Sorry.'

Me and Dean: 'Sorry.'

Next hoodie: 'Sorry.'

Some of them were black and some of them were white. Some of them even dropped their fag before they shook hands like it was the only right thing to do in the circumstances. Only a few of them didn't join in.

Me and Dean: 'Sorry.'

Ten or eleven hoodie: 'You taking the piss?'

Me: 'No. It's for commiserations.'

Dean: 'You got a problem with that?'

Ten or eleven hoodie: 'F—off, you cheeky little c—.'

We were going to make him a suspect except it was the butcher and he was too fat to be the killer. He's just mean with everybody. We had to give up after that because they were bringing the coffin out again. They nearly dropped it, one of the carriers was in his bottle and he nearly fell over. Everybody held their breath but they got themselves straight again just in time. There was nearly a ruckus at the end. Killa came along on his bike. He couldn't get through all the cars in the car park. He went all wobbly trying to get in between them and the funeral car nearly ran him over on its way out. It only stopped at the last minute. Killa slipped in the rain and fell off his bike.

Funeral man: 'Watch where you're going!'

I thought there'd be blows or at least Killa would give the man his dirty finger but he just got back on his bike and rode away quick quick. He went wobbly again when he went past the back of the car where the coffin was. The flowers on the coffin said Son and Forever. But it felt like Forever was already finished. It felt like somebody took it away when they killed the dead boy. It's not supposed to happen. Children aren't supposed to die, only old people. It even made me worried for if I was next. I spat out the rest of my Atomic Apple Hubba Bubba for if I swallowed it by mistake and my guts all got stuck together.

***

The steps outside the cafeteria belong to the Dell Farm Crew. Nobody else is allowed to sit there. They're the best spot in the whole school. They're under the roof so you don't get wet when it rains and you can see the whole school from there so your enemy can't sneak up on you. Only Year 11 can even go near there and only if X-Fire invites you.

If you sit on the steps without permission you'll get dirty blows. Even if there's enough room for everybody, you don't own the steps. The Dell Farm Crew own them. They won them in a war. Now the steps belong to them forever.

They're called the Dell Farm Crew after Dell Farm Estate. X-Fire is the leader because he's the best at basketball and fighting. Everybody agrees. He has chooked the most people. He stole my bag. I was only walking past. I wasn't even suspecting it.

Dizzy: 'Chuck it on the roof, man.'

X-Fire: 'Do you want it?'

Me: 'Yes.'

X-Fire: 'What you gonna do for it?'

Everybody was watching. I stopped trying to get my bag back. I knew I'd never reach it because his arm was too high. I was just going to tell the teachers that an eagle came down and stole it.

X-Fire: 'What country you from anyway?'

Me: 'Ghana.'

Dizzy: 'Do the cops have guns there? They do, innit.'

Clipz: 'They make their houses out of cowshit, innit. I seen it.'

X-Fire: 'Don't be a dick, man. He's alright. Tell you what, you can have your bag back if you do a job for me.'

Me: 'I don't need a job. I just lock the doors and carry the heavy things.'

Killa: 'What's he on about? You're funny, man.'

Dizzy: 'If you roll with us we'll show you the times. We'll look out for you, innit.'

X-fire can throw the basketball miles. He always scores. I can't even score because the basketball's too heavy. I think they put a rock inside it to trick you. I just dribble then pass it to Chevon or Brayden. When I'm Year 11 my muscles will be big like X-Fire's. I'm already the fastest. I could be the strongest as well.

X-Fire gave me my bag back in the end. It was a mighty relief.

X-Fire: 'Keep it real, Ghana. You get any shit, you come to me, yeah?'

I didn't want any shit, I just wanted to get my chop before Manik stole it all. You're not allowed to eat with your fingers, you have to use the fork or the dinner ladies will ban you. I still use my fingers sometimes, just to make the pile on the fork. Nobody can stop you, it's a free country.