Tracks Page 4

  Finally, Ged grabbed his navy-blue parka from the back of the chair. His mother was still in a mood and he knew it, could see her chewing on the inside of her lip to keep the words in. His hair was still stuck up all over the place and he made no attempt to do anything with it. When he was a kid, his mum had always said this was a sure sign that he was in a mood, maybe she was right. He didn’t break a smile either. Their eyes met from across the room, like two gunslingers meeting at dawn for a duel. ‘I need some money for school. I’m not having none again and looking like a scruff. So, don’t bother trying to fob me off saying you’re skint.’

  Clare rolled her eyes but there was no way was she getting involved in any more beef. Anything for a quiet life. She reached over and grabbed her tattered handbag. She’d had it for years. In its day it was probably an eyecatcher, but not anymore; it was worn and torn, just like her. She opened her purse and fumbled about inside. She didn’t have to look to know there was hardly anything in it, but what could she do? She exhaled loudly, looked down at the floor. ‘Here, I’ve got a quid. Don’t start moaning because that’s all I’ve got.’

  Ged’s nostrils flared and he started pacing the room like an anxious father waiting for his baby to be born. ‘Nah, sack that. I’m not going to fucking school then. What can I buy with a poxy quid? Nothing? Do you know how embarrassing it is when we all go to the shop and I’m stood there like a tramp who can’t buy anything? You can do one. Stick your money up your arse. You can fuck off, I’m not going to school, I’m going back to bed.’

  Clare banged her fist on the side of the sofa, dust flying up in the air. She’d had enough. Every morning it was the same script, drama, drama. She spoke through gritted teeth. ‘I can’t make bleeding money out of thin air, Ged. If I had it, you could have it. There’s no magic money tree growing in the back garden. It’s all I’ve got, you ungrateful brat. But, one thing is for sure, you are going in to school today, so shut up and just take the money or leave it.’

  He stood thinking for a few seconds. It wasn’t his mother’s fault they were skint – he knew that deep down – but still, he hated being part of a family where they lived from hand to mouth every day. Why did they have to be poor? Clare worked two jobs and some nights she could barely stay awake. She was a grafter, always did her best to put bread on the table, but he was still sick of the whole thing. Ged stormed over to his mother with thunderous expression. ‘Just give me the money. I’ll have to have it then, won’t I?’

  He snatched the coin from his mother’s hand and stomped out, her calling behind him, ‘No kiss then, no goodbye? Yeah it’s all my fault again. Tell me something that I don’t already know, Ged. Make me feel like shit, why don’t you?’ There was no reply. Clare flinched as the front door slammed shut. She rolled her eyes while muttering under her breath. A single fat salty tear ran down her cheek and landed on her upper lip and suddenly she was sobbing her heart out. She worked so hard, tried her best, so why was her life so bloody difficult all the time? She blamed Ged’s dad, him and his dodgy dealings. All she’d ever wanted was a normal life, but he just wanted more and more, could never be happy with what they had. Tosser. Kevin Grey had been banged up for an endless list of crimes and she’d been left to pick up the pieces. He was due out in a few months’ time, had written her endless letters about how he was going to make it up to her, but they all went straight in the bin. It was all bullshit, his words meant nothing to her anymore, they were just lies, lies and more lies.

  Chapter Four

  Ged was one of the first students to be picked up by the school minibus. He slumped in his seat, his earphones and his scowl a warning to anyone who might think of trying to make conversation. He never talked about the kind of music he listened to either. UB40 was his dad’s favourite band and he listened to the same tracks day in, day out to keep the memories of his father alive. He wanted to remember – even if his mother didn’t. Kevin was his dad and that wasn’t going to change, not ever. His mum was always slagging him off, never had a good word to say about him. She’d have everyone believe he was a no-good bastard, that he’d never change his ways, but Ged just wished he was still around. Maybe that’s why he was always getting grief about his behaviour. If his dad was there, he would have understood, shown him a bit of support when he needed it. And there was only so much a lad could talk to his mother about, wasn’t there? It wasn’t just sex, girls, lad’s stuff. She didn’t even know the basics about playing FIFA, football, any of that – they had nothing in common. And anyway, she was always knackered or talking about work. Ged pulled his hood down over his face. Today more than ever he wanted to be invisible, to be left alone, and the hood helped. He was already in a foul mood and if any of the idiots wound him up today, he was going to lose it. It didn’t take much, he was pretty much always on a short fuse.

  The driver ignored all the signs, shouted behind him as he headed towards the next stop. ‘Morning Ged, ready for a good day of learning?’

  Ged eyeballed him from under the hood via the rearview mirror and didn’t reply. Since when had he ever had a good day of learning? Was he having a laugh or what? He stayed slumped in his seat and ignored the kids who got on at the next couple of pick-ups.

  But then the minibus pulled up outside a house in Harpurhey – another place that was always on the news for all the wrong reasons. Ged lived in Blackley, about a twenty-minute walk away, and didn’t really know the area, though he’d heard endless stories about the goings-on here. This was not a place he wanted to be on his own. He stretched his arms, cracked his knuckles as he spotted Chelsea walking down the garden path towards the bus. She had bright-pink hair with blue strands sprinkled through it. She’d clearly been at it with the self-tanning lotion as well; she looked orange, like a satsuma. And God only knew what she’d done to her eyebrows, which now looked like two brown boomerangs. As she got closer, Ged tried to spread across the double seat. She’d be trying to talk to him from the moment she got on the bus to the moment they reached school; she never bloody shut up. A natural-born gobshite she was. The side door slid open and Chelsea jumped inside. Her Lycra skirt looked more like a belt; bend over and there’d be nothing left to the imagination.

  ‘Morning, Gary,’ she said in a loud voice as she slammed the door shut behind her.

  ‘Morning, Chelsea, how are you today?’

  Despite himself, Ged smiled. Chelsea was no class act – every other word out of her mouth was fuck, bastard, cunt; it was like she had Tourette’s. Once she put her mouth into gear she never stopped talking. A right gasbag. Ged waited as Chelsea exhaled and there it was, she was back on track.

  ‘I’m feeling like shit, Gary. That daft bastard of a mother of mine never washed my polo shirt for school, look at it, it’s full of marks. And she has the fucking cheek to tell me to put it in the washer myself. Do I look like the kind of girl who knows how to work a washing machine? Fuck me, Gary, I can barely read and write, never mind anything else.’

  Gary’s eyes opened wide, he’d never quite got used to Chelsea’s expletives. He tried to calm her down; if she was in this frame of mind before the school day had even started, she’d be a nightmare when she got there.

  ‘Whoa, language, lady. Don’t be talking like that. You’re a young lady, don’t let yourself down by swearing.’

  She moved down the bus and sat opposite Ged as she replied. ‘Gary, I think we both know that I’m no lady? Come on, even I know that. So don’t try and change me. I am who I am.’ There was just something about Chelsea that made you smile. She reached over and nudged Ged. ‘That’s right, isn’t it, you ginger ferret?’

  Ged shook his head. She had a way with words for sure. No airs and graces, she just said it how it was.

  The engine started again, and Chelsea was eager as ever to chat. ‘Was you out last night, Ged? It kicked off outside our house, you should have seen the dibble there too, they were team-handed when they come to arrest him nex
t door. Four cars come for him with loads of officers inside them. I saw the whole thing, it was mint. Stiggy put up a good fight too. He took one down before they got the cuffs on him. Mary, his girlfriend, was up in arms too, you should have seen her; mental she was.’

  Ged marvelled at how Chelsea never seemed to stop for breath; the words just rolled off her tongue, kept on coming. She was the opposite of him – he’d never been a big talker, found it hard to hold down a conversation. Maybe because under the tough exterior he was shy, hated making any eye contact with people. But it didn’t matter with Chelsea, she never stopped. You just needed to nod your head and listen as she went on and on. Drama, every day, always something that had gone on. Maybe she was making it up? Surely nobody could have that much going on at home? Ged had nothing going on at his – his highlight was two cats fighting outside in the early hours of the morning. The journey continued as Chelsea carried on sharing the ins and outs of the latest drama. When they stopped at a red light, Gary did his best to quieten the kids down.

  ‘Guys, guys, just give me a minute. We’re picking up a new girl up in a minute and then the rest of the mob. So be nice to her. You all know what it’s like to be the new kid in school so try your best to make her feel welcome.’

  Chelsea flicked her hair over her shoulder, annoyed at the interruption to her monologue. ‘She’d better not be a cocky bitch, one of those new girls full of attitude,’ she hissed.

  Gary raised his eyebrows. ‘You mean just like you were?’ He ignored her, all of them then, and carried on driving. He only had to put up with this lot for a couple of hours each day and that was more than enough. Every day a kid with drama, a parent screaming at her child to get on the bus to school, always something. Gary could tell a few stories about this lot. He had his work cut out for sure.

  The bus went quiet when the new kid, Nancy, got on. Shouts and laughter turning to whispers, eyes all over her. The girl’s mother was stood watching on the pavement, a worried look on her face. She stepped closer to the window. ‘I’ll see you later, princess, have a great day at school. I love you.’

  Oh my God, what the hell was she thinking? Nancy turned towards her mother and hissed at her, cheeks beetroot, gritted teeth. ‘Will you get back in the house. Stop showing me up, you weirdo.’

  Chelsea burst out laughing and she couldn’t help herself. ‘Come on new girl, or shall we call you princess?’

  Nancy rammed two fingers in the air towards her mother. That seemed to be her induction over with as far as the kids were concerned. Cheeky? Tick. Attitude? Tick. Didn’t care what she said? Tick. She’d have no problems fitting in. There was still the seat left next to him and Ged felt his cheeks burning as Nancy walked down the bus towards him. He pressed his earphones deeper in his ears and pushed his head against the window, the cold glass squashed against his cheek. Nancy was nothing much to look at though she did have piercing sea-blue eyes. She carried a fair few extra pounds, but who cared if she liked her food. Chelsea was the first to introduce herself; mouth almighty was never shy at coming forward.

  ‘Yo, I’m Chelsea. You can chill with me if you want. This lot will corrupt you given half the chance. Whereas me,’ she smirked and licked her front teeth, ‘I’m a pillar of the community and I will mentor you to a brighter future.’

  Ripples of laughter broke out. Liam Beechill piped up. ‘Don’t even listen to her, she’s had more nob ends than weekends. I’d stay well away from her if I was you, if you don’t want to get a name for yourself.’

  Chelsea was gobsmacked but, being Chelsea, was back on the ball and ready to defend her honour sharpish. ‘Oi, nipper knob. Just because I haven’t slept with you, stop getting jealous. If you fancy me and want a date, then make an orderly line with the others and I will think about it.’ The girls were all behind Chelsea. Liam was a joker and loved the banter. But he had nothing to come back with, she’d well and truly shot him down. All the kids were picked up now and Gary could start to relax.The teachers always said getting the kids into the building was half the battle.

  Gary drove through the main gates to where Donny was standing in the car park waiting for the bus to arrive. He checked his watch, yep, bang on time. School started at ten and finished at two – not a full day’s learning, but enough to keep these kids in the education system. As the students jumped out, the noise was deafening; no wonder the residents complained.

  ‘Good morning, campers.’ Donny had a big smile spread across his face and was almost as loud as the kids. ‘Where’s the smiley faces? You should be happy to see my beautiful face at this time of the morning. Liam, with a bit of effort, when you’re older you might even look this good if you’re lucky.’ And there it was, the start of the school day. Nancy was the last person to emerge from the bus and Donny walked to her side and spoke in a soft voice. ‘So, you’ve met some of the kids then? I told you it would be fine. They’re an alright bunch when you get to know them.’

  Nancy plodded to the entrance, in no rush to get inside. You could see she was a bit apprehensive at the thought of staying here all day; Donny knew her file, she was well-known for running away. Last time it’d been five days before the police finally found her in Liverpool. Reading up on her record, no one seemed to have got to the bottom of why she was always on her toes She’d never say, not at first, Donny knew that much. But given enough time, the kids often opened up to him. They’d come to realise he was different to all the other case workers and social services teams they’d usually met by the time children got to Second Chance.

  ‘Coats off, phones need to be put away or hand them in. Anyone found on their phones during lesson time will have them removed and they won’t get them back until the end of the day. We all know the rules.’ Donny shouted at the top of his voice to make himself heard.

  Chelsea was stood with a few other girls, having none of it. ‘Like he’s going to take my phone from me. I’d like to see him try it. I’ll smash his face in,’ she whispered.

  Everyone was gathered in the main hall and around twenty students sat facing Donny and his staff. Every day started this way and any problems were brought to the table at this time. But before the morning could start properly, the hall doors banged and everyone’s eyes turned.

  Frankie Owen came in late, swaggered over and sat on a chair at the end of the row. Frankie was the top boy at Second Chance, and he knew it. He oozed confidence. He had the looks, the clothes; everything about him was smooth. He met the eyes of the headteacher and nodded his head slightly. Frankie had been coming here since he was thirteen years old. He lived in Collyhurst with his mother Mary and her husband, Gary. His stepdad was a control freak and he hated the sight of him. Donny had been to see Frankie’s stepfather once and whatever they’d discussed seemed to stop the hostilities, but even though things at home had cooled down a bit over the years, Frankie still never gave Gary the time of the day. He wasn’t his dad and he owed him nothing.

  Frankie had been a lost cause when he first set foot through the doors of the school – always angry, always disrespectful, a total pain in the arse. He’d throw chairs at teachers, spit at them, was forever hurling abuse. Donny was at his wits’ end with the kid, but somewhere along the line he sorted him out. Nobody knew quite what went on, but Frankie was a changed lad – still a handful, but nowhere near as bad as he used to be.

  As Stormzy’s lyrics faded away, Donny addressed his students, coughing to clear his throat before he spoke. ‘Right, everybody, can I have your attention please…’ Hardly anyone took any notice. The time for niceties was over. ‘Just shut up talking and listen!’ he roared in a tone which brooked no argument. The students zipped their mouths and looked straight towards him. ‘Alf is on the warpath again. He’s complained about some kids from this school throwing crap in his garden. How many times do I have to tell you lot about respecting the residents round here? How would you like it if somebody was throwing rubbish in your garden?’
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  Liam cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted out. ‘That wouldn’t happen, because I would snap their jaw.’

  Donny raised his eyebrows. ‘Liam, are you on steroids or something because the last time I looked at you, you were only five foot nothing, so stop gassing and listen to what I have to say.’ All the kids started laughing. Donny had a great sense of humour and he got the laughs he was searching for.

  ‘Knob head,’ Liam hissed back at him.

  Donny continued. ‘So, if anyone is found dumping rubbish then they’ll have me to answer to. Also, let me tell you now, smoking weed at breaktime will not be tolerated in this school. If needs be, I will get every single one of you drug tested to find out who the blazers are. If the test proves positive, then I will ring the police and your parents. The staff here were not born yesterday, and they know when someone is stoned, so, you have been warned. Now, moving forward, we have some great new lessons for you lucky lot. You can start MMA or gym classes this week or if that’s not your scene you’ve got dance or our brand-new health and beauty sessions. The tutor, Alison, has come in from Parkside College and she can help you achieve a level two qualification. Is Alison here, Mrs Davies?’