Too Much Trouble by Tom Avery Page B

tell you about the worst trouble I got into before this began. Before I moved to England. Before my parents sent us away.
    My father had got home at the normal time. The back wheel of his bike made a clunking noise every time it turned, so we heard him coming from inside the house. I loved that bike. I dreamed of the day when I could have one just like it. I wanted to ride with my father. But it was too big for me, even to practise on.
    My mother went out to meet him, to tell him what my teacher had said. When they came inside he said, ‘Come with me, Emmanuel, and bring that.’
    We were walking towards the water pump. I was carrying the big water bottle, as my father had told me to. We filled that bottle up a few times a day. It was so big that once it was full I had to roll it; it was too heavy to lift.
    I remember feeling sick every step we took on that journey. I had been waiting for hours for my father to get home. I knew he was going to speak to me.
    â€˜We are so disappointed with you, Emmanuel,’ my father said.
    These few words made me well up, a stray tear running down my cheek.
    â€˜But he was laughing at Prince, Dadda.’ My voice cracked as I tried to defend myself.
    â€˜There is never an excuse for fighting, Emmanuel.’ Tears were rolling down my face now. ‘I don’t care what that boy said or did. There is never a reason to fight. Never. Do you understand me, Emmanuel?’
    â€˜He made Prince cry and I couldn’t. . .’
    â€˜Never, Emmanuel.’ My father said this so firmly, my mouth clamped shut on what I was going to say and I tasted the salty tears in my mouth. ‘Later, you will tell me exactly what happened and what you could have done differently, but now you will collect water on your own. You will collect the water on yourown every day until you have shown Prince a good example. He looks up to you, Emmanuel. If he sees you fighting, he will fight. You must show him the right way to behave.’
    We did talk later and I collected lots of water. But I still wasn’t sure. Is fighting never right?
    ***
    When I woke up, Terri had taken the book back. She was sitting on the bed, reading, and light was streaming through the window. I stretched and she looked up from her book.
    â€˜So, you’re Emmanuel, right?’ She placed her thumb in the book to keep her place as she said this.
    â€˜Yep,’ I replied, ‘and you’re Terri.’ I felt embarrassed. I’d only just met this girl and I’d fallen asleep in the same room as her. She probably thought I was really weird. I brushed down my creased and blood-stained clothes as she asked me another question.
    â€˜What do you think of the book, Emmanuel?’
    This seemed like a funny question and I thought about lying, but decided not to. ‘I didn’t get far, it was a bit hard for me.’
    â€˜Do you like books?’ she asked. She put the book down on the bed next to her, quickly checking what page she was on while I thought about my answer.
    â€˜Some. Do you?’ I replied.
    Her face lit up. ‘Yeah. I love books. This one’s OK,’ she said, holding up the book she’d been reading, ‘but mostly I like mysteries. Have you read any Agatha Christie books?’ I could honestly say that I had never heard of Agatha Christie. In fact, I’d never even heard the name Agatha before.
    I opened my mouth to answer but at that moment there was a shout from downstairs that sounded like Jamal.
    â€˜Come on, you lot, get a move on. We’ve gotta go in ten minutes.’
    Terri jumped up. ‘Mr Green must be here.’ She looked at me still sitting there. She gave me a questioning look as if to ask ‘What are you doing?’ but instead said, ‘Come on!’ Maybe she was scared of Mr Green.
    We all met downstairs in the living room. Mr Green was waiting for us, and Jamal was herding everyone through the door. Mr Green told us that it