Maxim Jakubowski - The Mammoth Book of Best British Mysteries 6

“Yeah?” I said.

“So your mom and dad named you after a toy? That’s cool,” said Kevin, who never listens.

“I ain’t got a mom,” said Johnny. “My dad raised me by himself.”

We didn’t know what the fuck to say to that. Then Johnny said: “That Griffiths is a real grade-A cunt, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” I said.

“One of these days someone’s going to shoot that guy in the head while he’s begging for mercy,” said Johnny.

It was a weird thing to say, all right. Kevin kind of stared. “Yeah. Like you’d fuckin’ do it.”

“I fuckin’ would,” said Johnny. “I’d do it just like that.”

“You’d shoot a teacher? Yeah. Fuckin’ right.”

“Certainly wouldn’t shoot a kid,” said Johnny Seven.

“You’re full of shit,” said Kevin.

“The rights of children are sacred,” said Johnny, not like a preacher would say it, but in the voice of a real person. “Any adult who violates those rights shall die.”

We didn’t know what to say to that neither.

So me and Kevin said goodbye to the new kid and cycled away real fast so it looked like we were on some kind of secret mission for the government. On the corner of Chatsworth, we spotted Wheelchair outside his house. It was like he was lying in wait. Except he was sitting, not lying.

“Oh, fuck, no,” said KC.

We were so depressed we almost turned right round and went home again. Wheelchair was the same age as me. Shelton’s his real name, but one day my mom accidentally renamed him by telling me I should see the person, not the wheelchair. I took a real good look at the person and guess what? I preferred the wheelchair.

All year long, Wheelchair sits at the end of his drive and accuses kids of all kinds of crazy crimes he’s imagined. My mom says it’s not Wheelchair’s fault, the poor bastard can’t tell the difference between dreams and reality. She may be right, I don’t give a fuck. It’s upsetting to be heckled by a cripple.

Tonight, Wheelchair gave us one of his old favorites.

“You’re the kid who stole my boomerang!” he shouted, pointing right at me.

We stopped to look at him. Wheelchair wore glasses that magnified his eyes, so he always looked angry and sad. Maybe he was. Guess he had every fuckin’ right to be. Thing is, some people in wheelchairs wish they could walk. I swear this kid wished everyone else was in wheelchairs.

“He never touched your stupid boomerang,” said KC.

“I saw the bastard do it!” yelled Wheelchair.

“I think you’re mistaken, pal,” said KC in a reasonable kind of voice.

“Liar!”

“Anyway, when’d you ever even have a boomerang?” I said. “Bet you never even seen a boomerang.”

I felt bad as soon as I’ve said it. Not as bad as Wheelchair, though. His bottom lip trembled and he glared at me like he wanted to kill me. Then he started to cry. Right away, I knew I’d committed a major sin. I’d made a kid in a wheelchair cry. KC stared at Wheelchair, dead serious. When we rode away, he said: “What the fuck did you have to go and say a thing like that for?”

“You were the one who said his boomerang was stupid,” I said.

“Sometimes you’re a real prick, Garrett. You know that?” said KC.

In my defence, Wheelchair isn’t the easiest cripple to get along with. My kid brother Monkey, who writes compositions about what a swell guy Jesus is, went up to Wheelchair once and tried to make friends with him. Wheelchair was real grateful, so grateful he tried to pull Monkey’s pants down. That’s the trouble with the less fortunate. One minute you’re trying to do them a good turn. The next minute they’re pulling your pants down.

When we turned up at Maya’s house, she was with her cousin Mirabeth. Name like that, I thought Mirabeth would be terrifyingly ugly. Mister, she was not. She was the same age as her cousin. Long dark curly hair and no tits, also like her cousin. A pretty face, though. I really liked her. Right away, I wanted to impress her so I pretended to fall off my bike. Mirabeth laughed a lot, so did Maya. I felt I was off to a great start.

Maya’s mom and dad were out at the store with her kid sister, so we all went inside to listen to music. Except Maya didn’t have any music, all she had was her mom’s fuckin’ Neil Diamond CDs. Me and KC were supposed to listen to this shit and act like we enjoyed it, just for the privilege of sitting in the same room as two girls. Except I didn’t pretend, I said right away that in my opinion, Neil Diamond didn’t deserve to live.

Mirabeth and Maya went off to fetch us some cokes from the kitchen. Then Maya came back to say that in their opinion, I was very immature and didn’t deserve to be in their grown-up company.

“What?” I said to Maya. “You’re kicking me out?”

Maya nodded. Mirabeth passed me my coke and shrugged, like it wasn’t up to her.

“Seriously? You are seriously asking me to leave? What about Kevin?”

“Kevin stays,” said Maya.

“What about my coke?” I said.

Maya told me to drink it outside. I waited for Kevin to take my side and say that no buddy of his took orders from a flat-chested moron but he just sat there same as fucking usual, sipping his coke like enamel wouldn’t melt in his mouth.

I told Maya I admired Neil Diamond really, really admired his wig and the way he pretended he had a deep voice. But it was too late. The bitch said no, I was leaving anyway. She kept saying I was immature. I got my revenge by farting real loud outside the window.

By the time I’d finished my coke it was getting dark. I was sulking on the porch when Johnny Seven rode by on his bike. He saw me and right away slammed on his brakes eek-eek-eeeek.

“Hey,” he said.

“How’s it goin’?” I said. Feeling awkward because I hardly knew anything about the kid, apart from the fact that he was a little insane.

“What did you say to Shelton, man?”

“You mean Wheelchair.”

“No. I fucking don’t. I mean Shelton.”

“Shelton Wheelchair. What about him?”

“What did you do?” said Johnny. “I just seen the kid, he was almost hysterical.”

I told him everything about the conversation. Johnny leaned over and spit on Maya’s drive. “He’s a kid, Newton. One of our own. We’ve got to look after our own.”

“Yeah. But he’s crazy. He scares me.”

“He’s scared too, man,” said Johnny patiently. “Shelton can’t tell dreams from reality.”

“How the fuck would you know?”

“Because I talked to him.”

I doubted this. Far as I knew, Shelton’s only topic of conversation was boomerangs. Johnny gave me a stick of gum. “Thing is, I don’t want kids ripping on other kids. I don’t like it.”

“You don’t like it? What the fuck’s it got to do with you?”

“Just go easy on him,” said Johnny. “I’m asking you as a favour.”

“Hey, you’re not the boss of the neighborhood. You only just moved in. You don’t ask me a fucking thing.”

Johnny just looked at me, like he thought I was better than this. I kept looking at him like I fucking wasn’t. After ages had passed and we’d both turned into old men with grey beards and crap in our pants he said: “Listen, my dad’s out looking for me. If he comes by, you guys haven’t seen me? Okay?”

“Okay,” I said.

“I appreciate it,” said Johnny. Then he did a wheelie for about half a fucking mile.

A minute later, Maya threw Kevin out. They were getting a divorce. She’d asked him to kiss her, so he did. Then she accused him of kissing her with his eyes open and asked him to leave.

“Oh, that is fucked up,” I said. “How was you supposed to find her mouth if you didn’t have your eyes open?”