6
On Saturday, Hopper knelt in front of the TV, cursing and bashing it repeatedly on it's square, chunky head.
`What in God's name are you doing?' El took a bite out of her sandwich.
`Stupid TV broke again…' Hopper slammed his hand next to the aeriel. Static fuzzed up the screen for a brief moment, then returned to black. `Damn. I don't think we can afford a new TV set, kid. Sorry.'
El took another chomp out of her sandwich, the peanut butter smooth on her tongue, then smiled at her dad. `I think I know who can fix it.'
Mike was staring up at his bedroom ceiling when the phone in the landing rang. It was probably for his mom, or maybe one of his dad's friends. So he ignored it, rolled over and started to read an old issue of the X-Men.
The phone died off.
And then started again.
Mike sat up, frowning, and then padded across the floor in his Star Wars socks. He was about to go out when he heard Mrs Wheeler answer it in the slightly snappish voice she reserved for unplanned phone calls.
`Yes, hello? Who is this?'
Mike retreated back to his bed, and carried on reading in his Star Wars socks. But not two minutes later his door burst open, Mrs Wheeler standing there, holding the phone in her hand.
`Mike, it's for you. And there's- a girl on the other end.'
`A girl?'
`Yes. She says you're friends at school.'
Mike frowned, then sat up. `El! Yeah, we're friends. Can you pass her over?'
In answer, Mrs Wheeler showed him the phone cord. It was already stretched as taut as it would go.
Mike got up and took the phone off his mom, who stood right next to him, blatantly listening in.
`Mom, can I have some privacy?'
Mrs Wheeler looked confounded. `Why would you need privacy?'
`Mom.' Mike made sure she was back down the stairs before speaking. `El? Is that you?'
`Mike? Oh, great. It took me forever to get your phone number. Can you come over? The TV's broken and dad's gone out to the police station.'
`Right! Yeah, sure. Do you want me to come over now?'
`If that's okay?'
`Yeah, it's fine!' Hopefully he didn't sound too eager… he toned it down a little. `See you in ten. Maybe twenty. Bye.' Mike hung up, then ran back into his bedroom and grabbed his jacket. He pulled it on then saw his reflection. He gave his hair a quick run-through with the comb, and then heaved his rucksack full of technical stuff onto his back.
`Mom, I've got to go out.' Mike stuck his head round the kitchen door, where Mrs Wheeler stood, arms crossed. `I'm not sure when I'll be back, but I can phone you when I get there.'
`Why are you spending so much time west?' Her voice was quiet. `Are you in a gang now? A Chicago Dog?'
`Mom, I'm not in one of the gangs. You know I'm not getting mixed up in that.' Hurt was rising up in Mike's chest, pushing it's way into his ribcage.
`Then where are you going?' Mrs Wheeler started to throw rice into a pan from a small packet. A cascade of white grains jumped over the edges of the pan, down into the stove. `I want to know.'
Mike completely lost patience. `I'm going to see a girl, mom! Give me some credit. She needs help with her TV, okay? And just because she lives west doesn't mean she's Troy's girlfriend or something. El is probably the nicest girl I've ever met.'
Mrs Wheeler looked, for a moment, ashamed. `Okay. You can see your friend.'
Mike walked down the hall and out of the door. For a moment, he turned back round to see his mom. He hesitated, then went back.
`You know she's not my girlfriend, right?'
`I- I know, it's just- you're growing up so fast. With all the stuff going on at your school.' Mrs Wheeler wiped the corners of her eyes. `You shouldn't have to worry about all this. Your sister certainly didn't.'
`Nancy didn't have Troy in her year.'
There was a small splutter of laughter. Mrs Wheeler smiled at her son, then pushed in him the direction of the door. `Go on. Or you won't get back before curfew.'
The sun looked like a big, melting scoop of mango ice cream, suspended in the sky. It's harsh summer glare made Mike squint as he walked along the street. It was easy to distinguish the invisible wall between east and west Chicago. As he walked further and further towards the sun dogs began to look more underfed, more homeless appeared on street corners, faceless strangers in hoodies leered at him from darkened alleys. A girl with dyed purple hair glared at him from behind a van, a lit cigarette dangling from her lip.
Mike checked over his shoulder every few seconds, just in case Dallas or Troy were bored and looking to beat someone up.
He realised what his mom had meant when she said he was growing up too fast.
After ten minutes of speed-walking through west Chicago, Mike reached El's apartment block. It had shattered windows, stains spreading right down the walls, and litter blew across the sidewalk.
He pressed the sticky intercom button, and almost immediately this time it buzzed to let him in. Mike opened the door and walked up the stairs until he reached floor three, then got to apartment 24B. He knocked.
The door creaked on unoiled hinges as El opened it. `Hi. You made it.'
`Yeah. Sorry I'm a bit late, Mom was-' Mike stopped himself quickly. A wry smile took over El's mouth.
`Didn't want you hanging out with a west Chicago girl.'
`Sorry.' He paused. `I don't think that, just so you know. It shouldn't matter where you live.'
`The sad thing is, it kinda does. Anyway. The TV's just there. It's screen turned to static and then Dad couldn't get it to work after that.' El knelt by the TV as Mike nodded through her account.
`Okay. I'll give it a go.' The rucksack made a very loud, clanking noise as Mike slid it off his back. He started to pull out weirdly-shaped metal objects, and continued talking. `So, is Hopper your real dad? You don't look very similar.'
El stiffened. `Of course he's my dad.'
`I mean, are you adopted? Actually, sorry. That's none of my business.'
`No, it's okay. He found me in a cardboard box outside the police station when I was a few days old. No one ever traced my family but Dad's guess is my mom couldn't cope with a baby and decided to give me up. Then he couldn't find anyone to take me in so adopted me.' El's eyebrows arched sardonically. `The end.'
Mike snipped through a wire. A puff of smoke burst from the TV. `That isn't the end,' he told her, replacing the wire. `You've had fifteen years. There's got to be more of your story. Like- like how did you get that scar? On your cheek.'
Immediately El touched the thin mark on her cheek, eyes crinkling up. `Oh, God. That's from the time Dad thought it would be a good idea to put me on a zipwire when I was two. We went to this park and I saw the zipwire and really wanted to go on it. Dad said okay, so we waited in line. Then he put me on the seat, pulled back the zipwire and let go, without realising he was supposed to run next to me. So I went flying down this wire, screaming my head off, and Dad realised he'd screwed up so started to pretend everything was okay-' by that point, El could barely get the words out- `And yelled stuff like `You're doing great! Don't let go!' and, of course, I panicked and let go right when the seat hit the tyres at the end of the zipline. Then I really did go flying and faceplanted in the gravel.'
Mike abandoned the TV and laughed until he stomach hurt.
It took forever to fix the TV. Mainly because Mike and El kept getting very distracted by telling each other stupid stories from when they were little. But thankfully, Mike succeeded.
He pressed the On button and a western film came on the TV.
`Thank you!' El said as the man on the screen drawled, `Sure, Miss Sylvie. I'd be indebted to y'all.' She switched the set off again.
Mike was looking past her. El followed his gaze and saw he was looking at her toothbrush holder, filled with box tulips. The coloured heads were a collection of blues, reds, oranges, and stinging yellows.
`What are they?' Mike asked curiously, walking over and touching one of the paper petals.
`Origami. You fold paper and it becomes one of these.' El picked one of her favourites and gave it to Mike. `See? You know what, you've been showing me so much technical stuff recently. Do you want to know how to make a box tulip?'
`Yeah. Sure.'
So El led a boy into her room who wasn't Hopper for the first time ever. Her room was still a total mess- El hastily kicked a few old pairs of knickers underneath her bed.
Her and Mike sat down at her desk, where stacks of origami card and an instruction book waited. El didn't need it. Immediately, she reached for a piece of vivid red paper and put it white-side-up.
`Okay. So, first you need to fold the paper across the diagonal- yeah, exactly. Then do it again. Now fold it from top to bottom. This next bit's a bit weird… you need to collapse it into a triangle.'
`Collapse it?'
`Yeah, try it.'
Mike did, then a triumphant smile lit up his face. The instructions continued, El ocasionally reaching over and completing a step herself. At some point, they had moved onto the same chair, sharing El's desk seat. Mike's shoulder, ribcage and right knee pressed against El's. She could feel how quick his heart was beating and knew that he could feel her heart too.
None of that mattered to El.
She was just enjoying the feeling of being so close to him as she gently closed her hands over his, tucking the left flap of the tulip into the right flap. Everything felt hyper-sensitive, like there were too many nerves all over her hands and arms and feet.
Then it was finished.
El moved back from the chair and Mike stood up. A pretty, scarlet, slightly wonky tulip lay on her desk, next to a collection of spilled felt tips.
The last of the sunlight faded away from El's window and her room sank into darkness. She flicked on her light, then smiled.
`Well done,' she said, picking up the flower and tucking it into Mike's palm. `It's really good for a first attempt.'
`I had a good teacher.' Mike went back out into the living room and started packing away his tools. `Where could I get origami card like that?'
`Take some from here! Seriously, I don't mind.' El went back into her room and returned with a stack of colourful paper.
`Are you sure?'
`Yeah, it's fine.'
Mike slid his hands underneath the card and pulled them close to his chest, rucksack hanging heavy on his back. `Thanks.'
`No problem.'
As a few dogs yipped and barked in the distance, El walked Mike out into the street. Her explanation was that a druggie sometimes hung around on the stairs- apparently his name was Earl.
When she left the building, she did something weird- El looked in both directions, like a fox tasting the air, before leaving properly.
Mike gave her a funny look. El caught it, and shook her head slightly, telling him to leave it.
The two kids stood in the rapidly cooling air. Mike still held his paper and his tulip. The street lights sent out glowing orange halos of light.
He imagined what it would be like to kiss El underneath a street light.
Almost without thinking, he stepped forward-
`Mike-'
And guilt immediately propelled him back. `Sorry, I-'
`Mike!' El's voice came out a shrill scream. Whipping round, Mike saw what she was looking at, and dropped the origami card in a tsunami of garishly coloured paper.
A huddled mass lay in the orange glare of a streetlight. Something sticky, and black, was pooling beneath it.
The two of them ran forwards. El dropped to her knees next to the feebly stirring thing and immediately the knees of her jeans were saturated with blood.
It was Georgie Steiner.
`He's a Texan,' El whispered. `Troy'll kill us if he sees us helping a Texan.'
`El, we can't let him die!'
Georgie let out a thin, weak moan. His face seemed naked without his glasses. Blood ebbed freely from a cut in his head, his lips were puffed and swollen, and Mike was horrified to see that Troy had carved the word `Texan' into Georgie's flabby stomach. Red flesh glistened under the street light.
`The hospital isn't far from here,' El told him, snapping into action mode. `Do you know what to do?'
`Yeah, I saw it on TV once… we need to keep his neck still, and keep talking to him.' Mike held Georgie's neck steady and lifted him into his feet. A low groan came from deep in Georgie's chest as El gently put his arm over her shoulder. Mike did the same, and the three of them staggered along the street, like they were in a grotesque three-legged race. All the while, Georgie mumbled unintelligibly about his glasses.
Georgie was considerably taller than El, and his head had begun to rest on her curly hair. His cheek pressed into her scalp.
`Keep… talking…' he gurgled, almost unintelligible.
`Okay! Uh… Once, Dad told Flo to take care of me for a day and-'
Georgie heaved and a shock of horror jumped up El's chest. Something warm trickled down the back of her neck. Hysteria quickly rising in her, El kept gabbling. `Almost ran Dad over with her scooter-'
Mike struggled to keep Georgie upright. Terror ran him through repeatedly, icy and sharp. If they didn't get to the hospital in time-
If they didn't-
Mike began to shake.
`The hospital! I can see the hospital!' He half yelled, the sterile white building shining in his eyes. Him and El increased their speed as Georgie became more and more of a dead weight. Mike banged on the glass door, leaving a bloody handprint behind.
A nurse hurried to the door and let them in. She immediately started to shout for a doctor as three other nurses ran to relieve them of Georgie. His weight was taken off Mike and El and they collapsed into the cheap plastic chairs filling the waiting room.
El breathed deeply, her eyes shut. She really was going to be sick if she wasn't careful.
`You okay?' Mike asked quietly. El decided it would be safer to keep her mouth shut but nodded infinitisimally. Adrenaline pulsed through Mike's veins. His hands were still shaking. He curled his hands into fists, trying to keep them steady.
`Hello?' A nurse called. Both Mike and El looked up. `My name's Adelaide. Were you the ones who brought in George Steiner?'
`Yeah. That was us.' El's voice sounded croaky but at least she was speaking.
`Good. I just need to ask you two a few questions.'
After fifteen minutes, Adelaide the Nurse knew their names, addresses, and an account of what happened. She smiled comfortingly at them. `I'll phone your parents now.' And she retreated behind the desk and started dialling.
Ten minutes later, Hopper's police car pulled up with a screech of brakes.
`El, what did I tell you about our Don't Be Stupid rules?' He demanded the moment he stormed into the waiting room. Mike awkwardly looked away as Hopper continued. `What if Troy had still been there?'
`Well, maybe I wouldn't have the Don't Be Stupid rules if you were ever home!' El yelled back, before striding forwards and hugging Hopper tightly. He hugged her back.
`Are you oka-'
`Yes, I'm okay.'
They stayed that way for a moment. Mike felt a sudden stab of envy for a dad like that when Karen's car appeared outside the hospital. Her stunted, sensible heels clacked on the linoleum as she walked up to Mike, her face drawn and unreadable.
Mike stood up nervously, hoping to God she wasn't going to ban him from seeing El.
Karen reached him and immediately pulled him into a comforting, enveloping hug. Then without a word, she led him out of the hospital and back into the car. Mike twisted around, and mouthed a goodbye at El.
She raised her own hand in farewell.
Hopper parked in the garage round the back of the apartment block. Georgie's blood was still rubbed into the grey concrete. El looked away and a gleam caught her eye.
A pair of round glasses, like the ones John Lennon wore, lay on the sidewalk. One of the arms was bent out of shape; blood was smeared over the cracked lenses.
Hopper watched silently as El picked up the glasses, wiped off the blood with her sleeve, and put them carefully into her pocket. Then without saying a word she led the way to the apartment block, opened the front door, and walked up the stairs. Everything seemed cold and suspended.
The second her and Hopper entered the apartment El went straight to her room and sat onto her creaky bed. Only an hour ago she was having the time of her life with Mike.
Now…
El twisted her fingers into her hair and buried her face on her knees, eyes tight shut. After a few moments, the surge of emotion left her. El then pulled her hands out of her hair.
Her palms were rusty with Georgie Steiner's blood.
El bolted into the shower, stripped, turned the shower on as hot as she could stand and crouched underneath the warm spray. Blood washed from her hair and the back of her neck, swirls of red slipping down the drain.
Her skin turned steadily pinker the longer she huddled underneath the burning shower.
That was where El stayed, unmoving, for the next hour, before she eventually emerged and changed into her pyjamas.
She had homework to do.
Finally figured out how to do the horizontal line- phew. Only took about five months. If anyone's wondering, the zipline story El told Mike actually happened. That was not a pleasant day for two year old me. Happy Easter/passover!
