Graffiti My Soul by Niven Govinden Page B

me making all the fuss.
    You know when Jason’s mum is having a bad day, as the curtains will be drawn. One of those days when the pain of her daughter’s death becomes too great. Opens a wound so wide, she needs to fill it with all the refined sugar she can fit inside her gullet. A day when the son that didn’t die can do nothing for her, aside from bring the chocolate. And plenty of it. We all look up as Jason gets out of the car. The curtains are pulled tightly shut.
    16
    We get into another fight. This one’s after school so there’s no worry about letters turning up unexpectedly in the fallout. At least that’s what we think. Me, Jason and Moon are minding our own business when we walk into the new cunt who started all the Paki trouble up the week before. He wants a settler, didn’t like being made a fool of. Brings the same two jokers who tried to see us off in the corridor. That means Pearson, who’s looking even more vicious than before. Me and Jase are well up for it. We’re anyone’s, if it means proving a point.
    We are all fight. It’s what we want plastered above our graves.
    We throw down on a patch of grass opposite the school. The council gateway we call it, as behind us lies the Rose estate. Oncethe jackets are on the ground, ties stuffed into bags, we are officially not in uniform, so let rip. I’m worried about Moon being there. Chivalry isn’t dead in my house, and she gets that this might be time to keep her distance. She takes the gear and stands on the corner.
    A crowd quickly gathers. It’s two hours ’til there’s decent TV, and too early to get goggle-eyed in front of MSN. The people need entertaining. We also know that some do-gooder teacher will catch sight of our goings-on from the car park within the first five minutes. It’ll probably be a more litigation-weary member of the species who’ll need to go and confer with some other teacher friends before stepping in. There’s little time for ceremony or name-calling, just boots and fists.
    Jason has an aunt staying with them at the moment; come down to look after his mum. She’s in the room next door to his – not his dead sister’s room – which has put a hold on him wanking himself raw of an evening. It comes across in his fighting. He takes the two jokers and kicks them to shit. I’m still giving the eye to Moon and already he’s at it. Once he’s got them on the ground he has no use for his hands, the boots do the talking one kick at a time. He’s going at it so quick, it’s almost a garage rhythm he’s knocking against their ribs. The sound of bones being broken.
    One week has passed since the last fight. Scars have barely healed. From outside the circle we probably look like a bunch of old-timers. Scabbed fists punching scabbed-over faces. Sore, weeping eyes washing over freshly blackened skin.
    The kids around us are all shouting like they’re at Old Trafford. Jason’s trying to tell me something but I can’t hear a word. I still find time, however, a nanosecond, to spot Kelly Button standing with a group of girls to my left. Eyes going flutter flutter flutter.
    This leaves me with the new boy. Not quite alone. Moon appears from her corner and throws a book at his head. Combined science, a heavy hardback with lethal corners that could rip skin to shreds. He turns at her, pissed at the intervention of a girl, giving me a window to jump on his back. He’s heavier, but I’m taller. The surpriseis enough to floor the bastard. Then I do a bit of Jason with the kicking.
    New cunt doesn’t stay on the floor for long. He’s up and ready. Uses all his trademark moves, mainly the groin and the shoulder kick. He really knows how to use the shoulder kick. Gets me right where the last one left its mark, top left shoulder between blade and back. I never worry about being vocal at these things. When he gets me on the