Chapter Two: Papa Don't Preach

Author's Note: Martin Webster and John Tyndall were the real life organizers of the National Front. I do not know if this speech was a real one ever said by Webster, but it is based on many arguments that I have heard anti-immigrants (including I am ashamed to admit members of my own family.) have made. I do not under any circumstances agree with it.

Ali took another swig of vodka as his brother, Nassar walked into the untidy flat. "Why is it, I see you in the past few days more than I have seen you in the past year and while we're on the subject, where is that son of mine?"

Nassar caught his breath. "In good time."

Ali rolled his eyes and gave a sardonic smile. Sometimes he knew that Nassar often waffled and tap danced around the subject before he got to the main point. Ali tried a different tactic. "Have you heard from Tania?"

"Who?" Nassar asked in terms like he genuinely wanted to forget the daughter who left. "If she wishes to leave, then let her. But she is no longer in this family."

"If that is the way it has to be," Ali agreed. "I hope Omar hasn't followed suit." He shook his head. "No, he wouldn't. He's too loyal, but where is he? He had better not be hurt."

Nassar sighed. He didn't want to tell his brother the news, but there was no stopping it now. "Ali, I consider myself a businessman, first and foremost. I wouldn't interfere. But I am also your brother, so I should let you know. Did Omar tell you about the, um, incident in front of the launderette the other day?"

"Vaguely," Ali said. "Something about a fight and he would be back later. He left yesterday, but I haven't seen him since then."

"Well it was more than that," Nassar said. "Apparently, some of those neighborhood deadbeat children trashed Salim's car and beat him pretty badly. Johnny fought back, got pretty hurt himself."

"Well what goes around comes around," Ali said thinking about the young man that he once knew as his son's best friend. "That's all."

"Well on that respect," Nassar said. "Both Salim and Johnny are fine, though Salim is in the hospital. Apparently, they made quite a mess of the launderette though. The boys have been working on it. In fact I visited Salim this morning and he told me something that I think you should know."

"And we know that every word that Salim speaks is nothing but truth," Ali said sarcastically. They were both aware of their younger cousin's penchant for getting in trouble. He had been a troublemaker since he was a teenager and adulthood hadn't seemed to improve his nature any.

"I wouldn't believe it either, but I had seen it myself," Nassar said. "On the opening of the launderette, they were in the back together putting on clothes."

Ali waved his hands. "What are you talking about?"

"Johnny and Omar," Nassar said. "Salim told me that they are more than friends. That they are –well that way with each other."

Ali laughed bitterly as though he didn't believe him, but then he stopped. Nassar knew that when Ali didn't return with any comment, he saw and knew the truth of his brother's words. "I had suspected it all along. They were friends, I told myself. Johnny was like a brother to him. Omar would never do something like that. He will find a nice girl and forget about him. It's just a phase he is going through… for the past 19 years." He sighed. "What lies we tell ourselves to avoid acknowledging the truth."

"I didn't want to interfere at all, because I still think it makes good business sense for them to work together," Nassar insisted. "If we get him married and he keeps his relationships discreet, there is no reason that we need to interfere with this."

Ali's face reddened. Nassar knew he should have kept quiet, but he couldn't help himself, as usual. "I do not want that bum in my son's life! I don't want them working together or even seeing each other!"

"That Johnny's a good worker. According to Omar they have known each other for a long time. Why do you hate him so much," Nassar asked.

Ali picked up the telephone, not answering his brother's query. "That boy will only make him miserable," he muttered. "I am going to call the launderette and if they are together. They will hear from me!" He dialed the phone number.

His son's soft voice answered the phone. Ali tried to keep calm, but instead rage filled him. "OMAR, WHERE IN GOD's NAME HAVE YOU BEEN??!!"

The elderly man listened to his son's excuse about the car breaking down. He rolled his eyes deciding to play along with the boy's deception. "I told you the brakes were probably faulty." Ali ignored Nassar shaking his head and mouthing 'No they weren't.' "Are you alone?"

"Yes I am," Omar answered after a long pause.

Ali knew his son was lying. "Nassar came from the hospital visiting Salim. He's here now! Omo, the three of us need to have a talk. Come here, alone."

"The four of us," Nassar corrected. Ali pulled the phone away from his ear and turned to his brother. "Johnny should come too."

"No," Ali declared. "I do not want that rabble rousing fascist in my flat, ever!"

"Do you really want to throw him out of Omar's life before hearing his say?" Nassar asked.

Ali sighed. He knew that Nassar played with Ali's long-forgotten sense of justice and fairness. He sighed. "Fine, have it your way! I will keep an eye on him!"He returned to the phone and when he spoke his voice was icy. "Nassar also wants Johnny to come here as well."

Omar pulled away from the phone obviously arguing with Johnny. He returned to the phone. "Alright, Papa, we're both coming."

"You had better," Ali said as he hung up.

Ali and Nassar waited as the door unlocked. Omar and Johnny entered the flat. The older men looked at the younger men, Ali's face buried rage and Nassar's torn between disappointment and curiosity. Omar didn't look at either of his relatives instead only down at his shoes. Johnny's face remained impassive. He glanced over at Omar. "Are we here to name the murderer, then?" he said dryly.

Ali waved the younger men down. "Have a seat." Omar seated on his father's bed. Johnny pulled out a small stool and sat down.

Ali glanced at his son, not looking at Johnny's direction. "Omar, you know that I don't like being deceived especially by you."

"I know, Papa," Omar said.

"Then is it true that you and Johnny are fucking each other?"

"Papa," Omar said shocked, but then sighed. "Yes, it's true. We are lovers."

"And is it true that you have been sneaking around behind our backs indulging in this affair?"

Omar sighed. "Yes, it's true."

"And how far do you plan to go with this affair?" Ali commanded. "You know what happens when you disobey us. This family cannot bear another loss after Tania's departure as well."

"There's no reason why it has to," Nassar suggested. Both Omar and Ali glanced at him "You can marry and if you wish to keep your relationship with Johnny as well, the business, and no one has to know except the four of us."

Omar's eyes narrowed. "Because it worked so well between you and Rachel!" he snapped.

Nassar glared at his impudent nephew. "You are starting to get a big mouth! If you wish to keep all of this that we agreed to then it's the only way."

Ali stared right down at his son."Well, Omo, what is it going to be?"

Omar glanced desperately from his father, to his uncle, to his lover. They were staring him down waiting for his answer. He felt ripped apart in several directions and didn't know how to bring himself together. "I don't know," he said quietly.

Johnny, who had been quiet until then, raised his hand. "Can I say something?" All heads turned to the punk. He only looked at Omar."Hard decision for you, yeah?" Omar didn't get a chance to answer "I'm making this real easy for you." Without another word, he handed Omar the key to the launderette.

Omar held the key in his hand, at first too stunned, and then he reacted. "Johnny, no, you can't leave!"

"I think you leave me no choice, none of you, "Johnny stormed.

Nassar was about to take out his chequebook. "Then I will pay you severance for the remainder of the work, you may pick up your final paycheque next Friday."

"No," Johnny declared. "I won't accept any money from you. Only Omar, I did the work for him."

Omar mechanically took out his chequebook and wrote the amount then he motioned for Johnny to accompany him on the staircase. Johnny followed. "It doesn't have to be this way, Johnny, we can still be together." He reached over to kiss him, but this time Johnny resisted.

"How?" he asked. "Are you willing to fight people like Genghis and Salim, even Tania, the rest of your life? People who want to break us apart one way or another?"

"There are people worth fighting for," Omar said.

Johnny snorted. "Yeah, I saw you in there, you were the real warrior. Really taking your father and uncle's commands like a little eunuch, you were."

Omar glared at him."It's my family, they are different. They expect me to do certain things. I have responsibilities-"

"-you're just too content to let them run your life," Johnny said. "That way you don't have to think about what you really want!"

"I can't just abandon them!," Omar objected. "My uncle already lost one of his children and Papa- well look at him. He needs someone to take care of him. It's family- something you know very little about!"

Johnny grabbed the cherub, crumpled in his hand. "You shut up about shit that you don't know anything about!"

"Where are you going?" Omar snapped. "Since you had so many other wonderful offers until I came along!"

"Where I belong," Johnny replied. "So should you."

Omar shook his head. "Don't go back to that, please. They don't care about you, not the way I do. Here you have people who love you and know you can be more than that!"

"Which is why I'm walking away," Johnny declared. "Your father told me to make sure that you went to college, here's your big chance. You got a lot going for you. "

Omar wrapped his arms around Johnny. "So do you and I won't let you go."

Johnny pulled away and held the cherub in front of Omar's face. "Sorry, you're not my boss anymore and you can't tell me what to do." Johnny looked once more into those innocent bright eyes that always drove him wild, then turned away before he could change his mind. Omar leaned onto the railing and willed himself to stand in that position to keep from tearing after him and begging Johnny to stay. He waited until he saw Johnny leave the stairs and close the door on the flat, before he turned around and walked back inside. He felt numb and emotionless as he faced his father and uncle. "He's gone," he told his father and uncle surprised at how flat his voice sounded, but ignored the screaming of his heart.

Nassar clapped his hands together and stood. "Well that was pleasant. I must say, but family affairs have taken my entire morning so I must be off. I do have a business to run." He nodded to Ali and clapped Omar on the shoulder."See you tomorrow at the launderette?"

Omar nodded. "Uncle, I need to put an advertisement in the paper for more help."

"I will help you," the uncle said. "but you know I want to meet anyone you hire." Omar nodded as his uncle left.

Omar waited until the door closed, then he glanced outside the window to see if he can see Johnny walking down the street. There were many people walking around, but no sign of Johnny.

"I know that you are upset right now, but we are doing what is best for you," Ali said, "You will thank us later." Omar silently thought Maybe, but I hate all of you right now.

"You can also return to college," Ali suggested.

"Maybe," Omar said. "I'm going for a walk."

"You are not going to find that bum are you?" Ali asked.

"No, Papa," Omar replied. "I have no intention of looking for him." And Omar didn't.

***

1972, Lewisham- Johnny and Omar ran out of the theatre talking and laughing loudly. They had seen their favorite film, The Godfather for the fifth time. The two friends laughed as they quoted their favorite lines. Omar circled around Johnny like a vulture coming to his prey lowering his voice to sound mean and menacing like Michael Corleone (as mean and menacing as an 11-year-old could sound).

"We insist that that it be held in a public place, like a restaurant or a bar where there'll be other people so I'll feel safe," he said. "They're going to search me when I first meet them, right? So, I can't have a weapon on me. But, if Clemenza can figure out a way to have a weapon planted for me, then I'll kill them both."

Johnny burst out laughing and pulled Omar by the shoulders as the Pakistani boy tried to pull away. "What are you gonna do? Nice college boy didn't want to get mixed up in the family business. Now you want to gun down a police captain. Why? Because he slapped you in the face a little! What do you think this is the Army where you can shoot 'em from a mile away? No you got to get up like this-" Johnny grabbed a giggling Omar from behind him-" and badda-bing, you blow out their brains all over your nice Ivy League suit!" Omar laughed until Johnny accidentally threw him on the ground. "Sorry, man."

Omar stopped laughing," That's alright," he said as Johnny helped him stand."Want to come back to my place? Mama and Papa won't mind."

"Sure," Johnny said. He didn't offer to let Omar come to his home because the last time that he visited, Johnny's parents gave him a hard time about it. Amanda made loud derogatory comments about the young boy and his family. George was quiet enough, but barely talked to or even looked at the boy even asking Johnny loud enough for Omar to hear if he had any "other friends that could come over."

"Besides we have that exam to study for," Omar reminded him.

Johnny snorted. "Don't remind me."

Johnny and Omar sat in Omar's family's sitting room. Ali read the newspaper as he explained the meeting that he had attended to his wife. "We plan to seize this country from those who corrupt it, those who profit on others for the color of their skin."

Daviya shook her head. She knew when her husband got started, he would never stop. "Ali, we are the guests here. The English has provided for our people since Kashmir-"

"-The British never forget the Kashmir dispute of 1947," Ali interrupted. "It's supposed to make us feel like cared for children." He said with a wink at both young boys. "Davi, it is my right to speak of injustice after all, even in this country."

"Just be careful, Ali," Daviya said. "I don't want to be removed from another country."

"You're mother is the cautious one," Ali said smiling at Omar. Omar grinned back. One thing that he always admired about his father was he spoke of national and international problems in front of the young boy. He never thought Omar was "too young to understand anything." "If it weren't for her, I would probably be strung up somewhere by my neck."

Daviya shook her head, "Ali please," She turned to the boys hoping to change the subject. "How are you two doing in your studies?"

Omar and Johnny looked up from studying for their upcoming history exam with disdainful groans. "Maybe, if you two studied more and didn't waste time at the cinema watching violent films you wouldn't be in this mess," Daviya said dryly.

"Mama," Omar blushed embarrassed.

"It doesn't matter anyway how we do," Johnny observed. "It ain't like we're ever gonna need this or get farther anyway."

"That may not be true," Omar argued.

"No, it's true," Johnny said. "Everyone I know has been here all their lives and they ain't going anywhere. That's where you and I are going to be, mate. We're gonna be stuck here on the dole like everyone else! This stuff ain't gonna matter at all!"

"Johnny, that's a terrible thing to say," Daviya corrected the young boy whom she thought of as almost a second son.

Ali instead shrugged. "No, Davi," Ali said. "He's right." Daviya and the boys turned to Ali. "You're absolutely right, Johnny. Why should you try for anything else? If you are content to let people think that you are less than what you are, why should you try for anything better?"

Johnny looked up at the older man, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Listen to me, Johnny, you as well, Omar," Ali told the young boys. "There is no reason in the world why either one of you can't be better than the circumstances around you, go to college, become journalists, doctors, anything that you desire. The only thing stopping either of you is the power that others have over you by saying that you are too dark colored, or too poor, or you are in the wrong religion. Do either of you know where that power comes from?"

"Leaders who pass laws discriminating against others?" Omar asked.

"That is an effect, Omo, not the cause," Ali told his son.

"Blokes who listen to them and beat up people if they don't agree with them?" Johnny asked.

"Close, Johnny," Ali answered. "That power of hatred, racism, class distinction, these things come because people are content to let it happen. Why should it bother me? It's none of my business. These bigots will always be the same why bother fighting? Everyone I know is on the dole, how will I be any different? If you don't question, challenge, or fight against the circumstances others force you into, then you are just as guilty as those who pass these discriminations on others."

Omar nodded, but then Johnny glanced at his watch. "Damn-" He glanced over at Daviya. "Sorry, Mrs. Daviya. Thanks, Mr. Ali, I'll keep it in mind. I gotta go home."

Omar blinked confused. "You're never in a hurry to go home. Where are you going?"

Johnny picked up his books. "Just going home. Mum and Dad gave me what for last time I walked in late, so I decided to be a good boy today."

"Okay," Omar said sounding like he didn't believe Johnny. With good reason, Johnny thought. "I'll see you at school. Bye, Mrs. Daviya; Mr. Ali."

*****

Johnny obediently followed his father into the small enclosed hall. George hardly ever took his son on outings, but he said this meeting was a special one because children were allowed to attend. The building was already filled with men, women, and some kids his age or a little older. He nodded at a boy in his neighborhood that he knew by sight. The boy nodded back, but returned to the conversation with his other friends.

"Listen closely, Johnny," George said to his son. "With people like this, we'll take back what's ours from those thieves!"

Johnny nodded sort of half-listening. He knew that his Dad spent a great deal of time complaining about the immigrants in the area. The young boy rolled his eyes, but found a seat on a bench behind his father, but close to some of the other boys. The crowd gradually sat and aside from some murmured comments as a man stood next to the podium holding up his hands for silence. Johnny knew the man was Martin Webster, he had seen him a few times on the telly and heard his father talk about him and John Tyndall as the "only men in England that made any sense."

"Ladies and Gentlemen, children as well," he began. "I apologize for using such a small hall for our meeting, but I prefer to be close to you, so I can talk to you as a friend not a leader."

"Why don't you speak louder, friend?" a sarcastic voice called from the background. Many people laughed including Johnny and his father.

"Can you hear me now?" Webster yelled.

"Sure mate," the man called back.

Webster returned to his speech. "No matter where you work, factories, dockyards, store clerks, dressmakers, grocers. You could be as old as 90 or as young as 13, but we all have one thing in common. We know our country is being invaded!" There was some muttering of agreement from the crowd. "How many of you lost your jobs because our government brings someone in from another country?" Some hands went up, while Webster continued. "How many of you see more true Englishmen and women in the dole lines than immigrants?" More hands came up. "How many of you can't afford to feed your families, because some thief from Africa, or Asia, or some other blasted country works for less money and makes you serve them rather than the other way around?" More hands came up including George's. "Are you angry at what this country has become?" There were a lot of shouts in the affirmatives. "Don't get angry, seek action! Action to send these invaders, these enemies, back to the countries that they came from! They invade our homes, our schools, force their way of living on us, on our children! They won't be happy until we are assimilated into their way of thinking or destroy us all!"

Johnny shook his head confused. He heard about this, but come on he thought all immigrants aren't bad. He glanced at his father who was paying Webster rapt attention. His face was more energized, more active than he had seen him in awhile. Usually, he stared at the television in a drunken stupor.

Johnny turned back to the man. He was wrong, he thought! He thought of Omar. He wasn't like that, he isn't trying to invade or destroy me. Johnny fought an urge to plug his ears from Webster's words as he recalled his friend. He and Omar had fun together. They played together, shared secrets with each other. His parents were the nicest people in the world. He wasn't afraid to talk to them about anything the way he sometimes was with his own parents. Daviya was so sweet and kind, motherly towards her son's best friend. Ali was great, always quick with a word of advice or a joke. They never minded when Johnny came over or how long he stayed. Omar and his family weren't at all like the people that he described, Johnny knew it! He was wrong!

As if reading his mind, Webster pointed at the people in the audience. "I know what you are thinking," he said. "But, I know immigrants personally. The man who works at the grocery store is from India and he gives to charities. The woman who styles my hair is from the West Indies and she gives to her church. My daughter is dating an immigrant who comes from a good family. Our children go to school with immigrants and they are best friends with them."-Johnny stood up straight as the man spoke. He felt like Webster was speaking to him directly. Webster's voice was soft, but then he gained momentum as he banged on the podium. "It is all a lie! That is what they want you to think! They catch flies with honey not vinegar. They shake your hands with one hand, but hold a knife in the other! They will fight you, and use you to further their gain! They want to force their politics, their religions, on you until all true-born Brits are the minority until we are the ones serving and starving in our own country! You have to stop them first! You have to take action! Fight against those who claim to be oppressed before it is you who are oppressed!"

Johnny felt sick. Was this man telling the truth? Johnny shook his head, "No," he whispered to himself. He remembered what Mr. Ali said earlier about "challenging circumstances that one is forced into." Is this what they were doing? But did that mean fighting Omar? He felt nauseous and the room spun until he was dizzy. He tapped his father on the shoulder, but he wasn't paying attention. Instead he was giving Webster his undivided attention, cheering as the other participants cheered. The musty smell overpowered Johnny and the crowds pushed into him. He edged through the crowd to the front door. He thought maybe his father would call him back, but he didn't. He was so wrapped up in the speech.

Johnny leaned against a wall catching gulps of fresh air. He couldn't think clearly because Webster's words filled him. He gulped in the fresh air and willed his body and mind to remain steady. He glanced from right to left and took out a cigarette that he sneaked from his mum's purse. He lit the cigarette taking too big a drag. He coughed as the tar and nicotine overwhelmed his throat.

"Want to get a smoke," a voice said. Johnny turned around to see the boy facing him.

"Yeah," Johnny said trying to sound cool. He offered the other cigarette to the boy. "Johnny."

"Gary," the other boy said. He looked closer and Johnny could see the boy wore a gray t-shirt that said "Genghis Khan lives." They shook hand. "Had to get out of there, eh?"

"Kind of boring to hear about after awhile," Johnny said sniffing with disdain figuring he wouldn't catch Johnny's real reason. "I hear about it so often at home, it gets old quick."

"Yeah, but real neat though, like we're soldiers fighting against enemies everywhere," Gary said.

Johnny gave a disdainful laugh as though he were beyond the people in the other room. "Wanna get out of here?"

"Where to?" Gary asked.

"Dunno, anywhere," Johnny said. He stood up to leave. "Coming?" Gary stood up and glanced at the other boy. He glanced over at the hallway, hearing the cheers. But instead he followed the retreating youth.

Gary held the door open as Johnny sneaked out, his arms full of stereos and TV's. "Come on," he said. The two pre-teens stumbled out of the electronics store, when Gary tumbled into Johnny and the two fell out of the store. "Damn, you stupid fucker!," Johnny yelled at Gary. The alarm filled the night as the two boys ran into the night. "Catch you later," Johnny yelled running from the store to the right.

"You too," Gary said running to the left.

The rain pelted outside the flat as Omar heard the tap on the fire escape window. He looked up to see a very wet Johnny leaning on the escape outside. Omar jumped in surprise and turned on the light. "Johnny, what are you doing?"

Johnny gasped and gulped in the air as Omar invited him inside. "I'm in trouble, can I shag out at your place tonight?" At first, Johnny ran home but he heard his parents in the middle of an argument. His father had left the meeting, shortly after he did and his mum was accusing him of not keeping an eye on Johnny. The two were in the middle of an all-out shouting match that Johnny didn't feel like walking in the middle of. So, instead he ran for the safety of Omar's home. He was out of breath and completely soaked by the time he reached his friend's home.

Omar glanced at the bedroom door. "I' m not supposed to have guests over on a school night," he shrugged. "If Mama comes in and she isn't wearing her glasses, she won't see you. She's practically blind without them, but if it's Papa hide under the bed. They'll knock first." Omar moved aside to give his friend more room on his bed and Johnny almost followed. Perhaps it was the lost helpless look on his friend's face, or just the fact that he was wet, but Omar stammered. "Don't you want to get undressed first?"

"Yeah right," Johnny said. "Nearly forgot." He removed his pants, shirt, and jacket quickly. As he unlaced his shoes and removed his socks, he suddenly felt self-conscious at Omar staring at him. Omar blushed embarrassed and turned away.

"Sorry," he said feeling ashamed, but oddly flushed at the sight of seeing his friend remove his clothing. He turned away.

Johnny crawled into bed next to Omar. He was about to say thank you, when the two boys jumped at a knock on the door. "Omar, are you all right?" Ali's voice called.

Omar waved for Johnny to hide under the bed. "Yes, Papa, I'm fine," Omar said sitting up straight as his father opened the door. He rubbed his eyes feigning sleep and took on an innocent smile. To complete the disguise, he circled his hands as though he were caught in the middle of prayer, his face the look of pure divine innocence.

"I thought I heard a noise," Ali said concerned.

"There were some people outside, Papa," Omar said. "They were making too much noise. I'm all right though."

Ali smiled. "Well all right, then. Good night, son."

He closed the door and Johnny was about to peer out from under the bed. "Not yet," Omar hissed. Johnny hid back under the bed.

Just as Omar predicted his father opened the door. "Good night, Johnny," Ali dryly said.

"Good night, Mr. Ali," a sheepish voice called from under the bed.

"Omar, it's late," Ali said sounding exhausted. "We'll discuss your freedom or lack thereof tomorrow."

"Okay, Papa," Omar muttered upset about being caught. He waved for Johnny to come up from under the bed.

Ali walked back to the bedroom, where Daviya was still reclined reading a book of poetry. "Johnny spent the night didn't he?" Daviya said.

Ali nodded. Daviya closed her book and hesitated trying to phrase this question as careful as she could.
"Ali, does their relationship make you nervous?"

"No, should it?" Ali asked.

"Omar and Johnny are together a great deal," Daviya began. "They never argue, well hardly ever. They go places together, study. I think Johnny's here more than at his home, though having met his mother a few times, I can't blame him. They are inseparable."

"Oh no, whatever shall we do," Ali said unenthused. "Daviya, they are young boys. Boys are like that. I had a lot of friends that age."

"I just wonder if he's a good influence on Omar," Daviya said. "There is something about him that disturbs me."

"He's very bright," Ali said. "Observant, I think he's just the type of boy that Omar should befriend."

"I'm just wondering if maybe Omar would be better off having friends that are more well more-"

"-More like himself, you mean," Ali asked. Daviya looked down, but nodded her head. "Davi, Omar cannot hide among his own people forever. If he ever wants to have any hope of living in this country, he must meet them at their level. Maybe the fact that Johnny and Omar are such close friends could be a good omen."

"I know, but I worry-," Daviya began when her husband cut her off.

"Daviya you worry entirely too much," Ali said. "Johnny's a good boy and it's late. I don't wish to discuss this further." Daviya lay down. She knew when her husband got that snippy tone that their conversations were over. They kissed each other, then Ali leaned over and turned off the light.

"No, no," Omar listened as Johnny was muttering in his sleep. He appeared to be having a nightmare. Omar tried to wake his friend up, but he wouldn't listen. Whatever it was, the nightmare was clearly disturbing him. The boy's teeth chattered and he moved his arms and hands to defend himself.

"Johnny, it's just a dream," Omar whispered. But once again, he didn't hear. Omar did the only thing that he could think of: He wrapped his arms around his friend and leaned closer.

"I'm here, Johnny," Omar said into the other boy's ear. Johnny struggled for a few more seconds, but then relaxed as though he felt Omar's presence, even through the dream. "No one's going to hurt you."

Martin Webster's words filled Johnny's brain as he lay down to sleep. He couldn't block them out of his mind and as he slept he dreamt that he was running through South London. Everywhere he went he was being chased by these evil people. He didn't know who they were, he just knew that they wanted to hurt him. He tried to fight them, but there were too many. He just began to run. The boy ran until he was overcome and backed into a corner. No matter where they were, the evil people kept following him. They were dressed in similar suits and were all foreign looking. He fell down and felt someone wrap their arms around him.

As if from far away, Johnny heard a soft familiar voice say, "I'm here Johnny. No one's going to hurt you." Omar, Johnny inwardly sighed. He relaxed wrapped in his friend's arms and in the knowledge that he wasn't being chased and that it was all a dream. He felt safe and comfortable. Once more Webster's words came to Johnny. "No," he said to himself. "Omar isn't like that at all."