Kicked Out, page 5
“Has he said anything more about Aadam?” I asked, scooping up some fries and beans.
“Nah. Think he’s forgotten about him now.” Mark put his phone back down next to his plate. “He seemed happy they’d recovered the money. And I don’t wanna say anything in case he gets angry again and calls the police or something.”
I sat up. “You know what?”
“What?” said Mark, sipping from his orange juice carton.
“Forget him and his stupid poster. Let’s plan the charity match so we can help an actual refugee stay safe in England.”
Mark laughed. “Nice one! And Callum will hate it when he finds out, ha ha!” He took a bite of pizza.
“So shall we do five-a-side or the full eleven?” asked Sami.
I thought about it for a moment. Although five players would be easier to manage, a proper team of eleven would probably mean we’d raise more money.
Mark leaned in. “I reckon eleven-a-side . . . So, how are we gonna raise the money? Ask players to pay to play?”
“Nah, I think we’d charge for tickets to watch, right? Ali?” asked Sami.
Mustafa howled with laughter at the table next to ours. I couldn’t help but look over and stare. How was he always having so much fun? He seemed so happy all the time. I suppose having your dad around meant you had less to worry about. Bet he didn’t have to get any shopping in for his mum. I bet Dad did all of that. Bet his mum had no worries in the world either.
Sami and Mark jabbered on about the charity match, but I couldn’t focus now. I wanted to hear what my so-called half brother was saying.
Sami nudged me and said something.
“Huh?”
“What’s up?” he asked, staring at me. “You look sick.”
I felt sick. That was true. But there was no way I could tell him why. How did I go from being a happy lad with my mates to this burning-up-inside one?
It was football training after school, so I waited for Sami in our usual spot near the science labs. His teacher opened the lab door, and the pong of rotten eggs trickled out. They must’ve done the same stinky sulfur dioxide and hydrogen sulfide experiment we’d done in the morning. I fanned my nose—it was bad enough smelling it once, but twice was just criminal.
Sami bounced out of chemistry and looked around as if he was bursting to talk.
“Guess what?” he said.
“What?” We started walking down the corridor towards the changing rooms.
“Aadam messaged. He spoke to his mum. She’s found his head teacher! And he’s gonna try and get some proof to show Aadam went to his school!” Sami beamed. “And his mum’s gonna send some photos of where she lives and maybe her injured leg too.”
“Okay . . .” I wasn’t sure why that would be any help to us, and then it clicked. “Oh, for his new refugee application?”
Sami nudged me. “Yeah! And we could use his mum’s pics for the fundraiser too!”
“Oh right!” I said. “I get it now. To show everyone why he can’t go back to Syria yet? Yeah, that’d be really good actually.”
“Hurry up, ladies, we haven’t got all day.” Nathan the crudhead brushed past us, swinging his PE bag.
I rolled my eyes at Sami. Nathan might have stopped making racist comments since getting into trouble and Sami replacing him as team captain, but he was now finding other ways to have a go at us.
“What were we just talking about?” I asked.
“Forget it, man. We’ll chat later. That idiot ruins everything.”
I shrugged as we piled into the changing room and hung our bags on the hooks.
“Oi oi!” Mark burst in with a grin on his face.
“What you so happy about?” I said.
“Going to meet Grace after our FIFA marathon, innit.”
“For a date?” Sami asked.
“Nah. Just as friends . . . for now.” Mark held his shoulders back and pushed a hand through his curly blond hair proudly.
I laughed as I pulled out my football kit.
“She had a go at me ’cause we didn’t meet up for footy practice in the park all of last week.” Mark hung his bag and checked his phone.
“Now we’re not coming to yours, we should go again after school,” I said, tugging off my shoes.
Mark’s phone buzzed, and his face went pale and looked nothing like it had a few seconds ago.
“Who’s that from?” I asked, pulling on my shorts. “She canceled on you already?”
“It’s my mum.” Mark sat on the bench, his head low and shoulders drooped, as if he’d let in twenty goals in one game or something.
“What did she say? Is it bad?” asked Sami, shoving his school trousers into his bag.
“She said I can’t come to yours after training . . .”
“Oh man! For real?”
“Yup. I told her as soon as Callum kicked you guys out that I was with you all the time you were at ours, and there was no way you’d have taken any money anyway. She knows!”
I wanted to tell him to have another word. But looking at the state of him I couldn’t. He was struggling.
I glanced at Sami and he shrugged. “Just play with us online.”
“Yeah, exactly. We’ll still all be playing together.” I lightly punched Mark on the shoulder but he stayed droopy. “I’m gonna go warm up, yeah? You comin’?” I headed to the door.
“Yeah.” Mark sighed and started taking his blazer off.
Leo pulled the door open; he looked so much taller, because he’d gelled his spiky brown hair up. I rushed through the door, then stopped.
Mustafa was coming out of the other changing room, wearing his school football kit.
I turned on my heel and went back into the changing room.
“Aaaaaaaaaaagh! AHMED!”
Sami and I walked into my house to hear my sister screaming at my little brother. I dropped my schoolbag next to my shoes and turned to Sami, putting my finger to my lips. He stopped where he was next to the front door, and I crept to the doorway of the front room.
“Why did you use my hairbrush?” Samira screeched.
“I never!” Ahmed said, looking up from his Minecraft game. “I don’t even use a brush! I don’t care about hair, like you!” He frowned and started playing again.
Samira stormed towards the door and stopped as soon as she saw me, with my perfectly styled brush-up. She pointed at my hair. “YOU CAME IN MY ROOM AND YOU USED MY HAIRBRUSH!”
“Well duh—this hair doesn’t style itself, you know.”
“I’m gonna kill you!” She came for me, and I dodged her so she fell through the doorway into the hall. Sami looked stunned and Samira blushed, clearly embarrassed that anyone outside our family had heard the “real” her.
“I couldn’t find mine,” I said. “What’s the problem, anyway? It’s not like I brushed the carpet with it. Just my hair.” I shrugged.
She stomped upstairs, giving me evils through the spindles on the banister on the way up.
“Thanks!” I said to Sami.
“What for?” he whispered.
“Well if you weren’t here, she’d have charged right back at me!”
Sami laughed and followed me into the front room. I grabbed Ahmed’s controller and handed it to Sami.
“Oi! I was playin’,” said Ahmed.
“Yeah, and now you ain’t,” I said. Ahmed’s little eleven-year-old body bobbed up as I sank into our old three-seater sofa.
“Let him play with us, man.” Sami handed the controller back to Ahmed and squeezed in next to him, nudging him with his elbow. “Wish I had a little brother to play with.”
“All right, you two play,” I said. “I’m gonna snooze.” While Sami and Ahmed started a FIFA game, I put my head back on the sofa and closed my eyes. I actually had two brothers. One proper and one half. And the half brother had just turned up at school and settled in as if he was always meant to be there—a part of my life.
I peeked at Ahmed from the corner of my eye and wondered if he’d feel the way I did about Mustafa. Did Ahmed even remember Dad? He was a toddler when Dad left. Maybe he wouldn’t care.
Ahmed squawked as Sami tackled him in the game.
I wasn’t going to say anything about Dad and risk upsetting Ahmed. I didn’t want him to feel like the same ocean had taken over inside his body and was crashing against his whole chest all the time too. Plus, I wouldn’t know what to do if he cried and told me he missed Dad. I couldn’t show him it affected me. I had to be the stronger one—his older brother who could handle anything. Nope, there was no point ruining Ahmed’s life too.
Chapter 8
If Mark wasn’t allowed to hang out at mine, we were going to make sure we would hang out together somehow. And we weren’t going to give up our footy time just because Mark’s mum and her boyfriend all of a sudden hated us.
The next day after school we all went to the park to play football, just like we’d been doing before Mark had moved into his mansion.
Grace was already at the park, waiting with two friends from her school. I squinted in the sun as Mark walked over and they chatted. Grace tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, then tied the rest up into a ponytail. Mark’s smile was probably visible from space. That boy could not hide how he felt if he tried.
I swung my bag off my shoulder and dropped it, ready to create a makeshift goal. Sami dropped his about seven meters away. His phone rang, and he pulled it out and started talking in Arabic. It must’ve been Aadam or his mum. His dad would be at work, and they usually spoke in English when he called.
“Aadam said he can’t make it right now. He’s just finishing up his shift at the factory, but he’ll try and get here in half an hour.”
“All right, that’s cool,” I said, watching Grace, who was already in the midfield position.
“What about Elijah and Leo? Are they coming?” asked Sami.
“Nah, not today,” said Mark, getting in goal. “They’ve got some school thing.”
One of Grace’s mates was setting up the other goal. Looked like it was girls versus boys today. It was on. We’d have to thrash them, otherwise we’d never live it down.
About twenty minutes later, after a warm-up and some drills, I kicked off and passed the ball to Sami. He dribbled as fast as he could to avoid Grace, who was already coming up behind him. He booted the ball to get it away from her and raced towards it; she ran harder and they both shoulder-barged each other trying to take it. Grace got the ball and turned, going on the attack. She took a shot, but it went wide.
“Free kick!” I shouted.
She turned and frowned. Sami laughed, delighted with my football regulations even in the absence of a referee. I gave the cheesiest smile I could, just like in my school photo.
Mark came out of goal and kicked the ball towards Sami. Grace swooped in and got it. I gritted my teeth, praying she’d miss. Come on, miss it.
It hit the rucksack goalpost. “YES!”
Grace glared at me and walked back to the middle of our pitch. Sami looked over, grinning. Then he did a double take and his eyes widened, so I turned to see what he was looking at. Aadam was sitting on a bench with his head hanging low. This wasn’t like him.
“I’m kicking off!” shouted Grace.
I raised my hands above my head and said, “Just give us five!” as I watched Sami walking over to Aadam.
“You giving up already?” said Mark, panting and putting his hand on my shoulder.
“Let’s take a break.” I nodded toward Aadam.
“All right, but don’t be too long,” said Mark, jogging back to Grace.
I walked up the path, following Sami through a swarm of tiny flies, swatting them away from my face. Mark was now chatting to Grace and her mate Leonie. Good. Football was one thing, but I didn’t want Grace to think she could just get into our business too.
“What’s up, Aadam? Why you not joining?” asked Sami, sitting on the wooden bench next to him.
Aadam didn’t look up.
“You hurt?” I asked, squatting to see his face.
Sami locked eyes with me. Something was off.
“What is it?” Sami clutched Aadam’s shoulder. “What happened?”
Aadam sighed. “I spoke with my lawyer. He needs a deposit from me before he can start writing my appeal and I don’t have enough to pay him even that. And I just spoke to my mum . . .”
“What did she say?” asked Sami.
Aadam’s eyes welled up. He swallowed and looked down at his hands, locking his dry fingers together and then unlocking them. “They’ve got no food or gas in Syria. She said they’re eating . . . what do you call it . . . watercress and leaves now.”
I glanced at Sami. “We’re gonna speak to Mrs. Hack, our Director of Sport, tomorrow, don’t worry,” I said. “We’ll get the fundraiser started and get your deposit.”
Sami put his hand on Aadam’s shoulder. “Let’s speak to Baba today? I know you don’t want to ‘burden’ him or whatever about the deposit, but we need to tell him.”
Aadam nodded, his head still lowered.
I cleared my throat. “Let’s go get a drink. I’m thirsty.” I pointed at the shops across from the park. “Come on, what d’you want?” I asked Aadam, hoping to distract him a little.
“Nothing, but I will buy the paper. I need to read it before my English class tonight.” Aadam put his hands in his pockets and followed us.
“Gonna get a drink. You want anything?” I shouted back at Mark and Grace. Grace was in the middle of saying something animatedly.
“Nah, I’m good!” he said.
“No, thanks, I’ve got this!” Grace shouted, waving her water bottle at us, and then carried on chatting.
We went to the small Co-op across the road. Aadam stopped at the front, picked up a parsley plant wrapped in plastic, and started examining it.
“What do you want that for?” I asked.
“It’s half price. It will be perfect for tabbouleh tonight,” he said, holding it up.
“You cooking again?” asked Sami, going past him into the shop.
“Yeah. It makes me happy!” said Aadam, taking the plant in with him.
“Would you ever be a chef?” I asked, following them inside.
“I think that’s what I want to do. One day, I will open my own restaurant serving Syrian food, inshallah.” Aadam smiled.
“I’ll eat there every day!” I shouted after him as Aadam walked off, putting a thumb up at me.
I went straight to the fridges. Sami went to the chocolates aisle, and Aadam went to the magazines and newspapers.
I pulled the glass door open and shuddered as the cold air hit me. Clutching a bottle of Ribena, I went to find Aadam and Sami.
I stopped midstep as soon as I entered the magazine aisle.
Callum . . .
Mark’s mum’s boyfriend had cornered Aadam, who was trying to stop himself from falling back into the shelves. The parsley plant was on the floor, soil from it spilled all over the plastic it was wrapped in.
I wasn’t sure what to do. If I shouted for help, Callum would see me and then might give Mark more grief at home. He’d do worse if I barged in to help Aadam. I looked around for Sami or a staff member. Anyone.
“Stay away from Mark, otherwise I’ll make sure you get sent back to where you came from.” Callum grimaced, his tanned face creased more than ever before.
Aadam swallowed and nodded. Callum pointed in Aadam’s face to scare him, then pulled a property magazine off the shelf and walked down the aisle towards the pet food at the back.
“You okay?” I rushed over. “How did he know you were here?”
“I don’t know. He picked up a magazine and then he saw me . . . I can’t take risk,” said Aadam, paler than I’d ever seen him.
“Can’t take the risk for what?” asked Sami, holding a Kit Kat.
“Shhh!” I put my finger over my mouth. “Callum’s here. He can’t see us.”
Sami’s mouth dropped. “What happened?” he whispered.
“I can’t play football with you no more . . .”
“Why?” Sami asked, edging closer to Aadam.
“He’s gonna send me back to Syria if I go near Mark.” Aadam sighed. “If he tells Home Office anything bad about me, I won’t be able to even appeal, they will deport me.” He looked around. “I have to go before he sees me again.”
Sami screwed his face up. “He can’t do that to you.”
“That man is liar. He could make anything up,” said Aadam, picking up the parsley plant and heading towards the end of the aisle with a newspaper.
“True,” I said, following him. “Like he did with the money.”
A cool breeze whooshed into the store as the automatic doors opened and Mark’s mum walked in. I ducked down next to some shelves, and Sami and Aadam stepped back into the aisle behind me. I edged forward to peek, and Sami put his hand on my shoulder to spy with me. Callum picked up a bunch of flowers from a bucket near the entrance and handed the cashier a ten-pound note, nodding toward Mark’s mum. He swaggered over to her, tucking the magazine under his arm while holding a four pack of beer, and handed her the bunch of red roses.
“Oh, for me?” Mark’s mum’s face lit up, and her eyes smiled too, not just her mouth.
“Anything for you.” Callum grinned and then winked back at the cashier before putting his arm around Mark’s mum and walking out the store.
The cashier smiled widely and stared after them, looking impressed by his Prince Charming performance.
I breathed out. “Let’s give it a minute and then leave.”
We walked to the cashier to pay for our stuff. I quickly handed over my drink and put my hand out for Sami’s chocolate and Aadam’s newspaper. “It’s on me. We’ve got to be quick, come on.”
