Kit de Waal - My Name Is Leon

She looks around at the others and they all nod. Sylvia lights a cigarette.

“So, we’re doing our best, we want you to know that, all right? Good boy.”

There are too many things that Leon doesn’t like and he’s made a list of them in his head.

Sylvia.

Sylvia’s house.

Having to move to Sylvia’s house even though they said he could stay at Maureen’s house but they lied. Sylvia only stayed one night in Maureen’s house; then she said she was sick of it and she was going back to her own house and he had to go with her.

The sheets on his new bed in Sylvia’s house. They’re pink.

The way Sylvia keeps going to visit Maureen in the daytime when he’s at his new school.

His new school. Again.

Sylvia calling Maureen “Mo” all the time or “our Mo” to leave Leon out.

Nobody letting him talk about Jake. Maureen used to let him talk about Jake and she would join in.

No one remembering that he’s got a brother.

Two girls in his new school who made him swear and get into trouble.

Sylvia’s cereal.

The way on Saturdays Sylvia keeps telling him to go outside to play when all the best shows are on.

Her smell.

His mom not coming to get him.

All the toys he couldn’t bring to Sylvia’s house because of the mess they make.

No one talking about Jake’s first birthday because they’ve forgotten about him but Leon hasn’t.

His new social worker, because they keep changing and this one has bad breath and she keeps saying, “I’m new.”

Bedtime at Sylvia’s house because it’s too early and he can’t sleep when it’s light outside.

Sylvia’s laugh when her show’s on.

People pretending all the time.

All the things he doesn’t like keep coming one after another and eventually the Zebra turns up again. She says what the other social workers have said before, that living with Sylvia is only temporary and that when Maureen comes out of the hospital he can go back to live with her. For ages, he didn’t take anything out of his backpack because he believed what they said but then it got to eight days and they said a bit longer and then a bit longer and then he had to go to a new school. So Leon came up with a good idea. If they could find his mom, then he could stay with her just until Maureen gets better. He could look after Carol because he’s done it before and it will be even easier because it will just be the two of them now that Jake has gone. But when he tells the Zebra his good idea she just says no.

“We’ve talked about that already, Leon. Your mom moved to Bristol and she’s living in a halfway house. She needs a lot of support. She’s seeing doctors, taking some new medication, and talking to people about how she feels. She’s trying to get back on her feet but it takes time. They don’t allow children there and, anyway, Leon, we would have to make sure that your mom could look after you properly even if she wanted to.”

Leon turns away while she is still speaking. The Zebra’s got a new hairstyle. Now there are two white stripes at the sides as well as the back. She thinks she looks great but she doesn’t. The Zebra’s black suit is too tight and her white shirt is trying to bust open. But out of all the social workers he’s ever had, she looks at him the most. And when he looks away, she stops speaking until he turns round.

Leon picks a scab on his finger because he can tell that he’s going to cry. Or get angry. If he concentrates on something else, or makes a little pain on his finger, then it stops the tears. Or if it’s anger that’s coming, the best thing to do is pretend it’s not happening or have some candy or find something to play with. Sometimes, he takes ten pence from Sylvia’s purse.

“Why?” asks Leon.

“Why what?”

“Why can’t I look after her? I did it before.”

“Because that’s not being a child, Leon. You’re a young boy and your mom is an adult and she has to look after you. Not the other way around. When she can’t look after you, we make sure there is somebody else that can. And right now that person is Sylvia.”

Sylvia stands in the doorway, listening and smoking and tutting. Sometimes Sylvia is like a robot. Her arm puts the cigarette in her mouth and then takes it out and holds it in the air. Then the arm does the same thing over and over until the cigarette is finished. When she’s not paying attention, the ash lands on her blouse and she doesn’t even notice.

“Why can’t I see Maureen?”

“I just said why. She’s still not well, Leon. And she’s got a virus. They turned me away when I went. No one’s allowed in.”

“I’ve told him ten times,” Sylvia says, “and you’ve told him. It doesn’t seem to go in.”

The Zebra strokes Leon’s arm.

“It’s hard, isn’t it, Leon?” she says. “But you know what? Come with me. Come on.”

She gets up and opens the front door. Leon follows. She goes to the trunk of her car and lifts the lid. She leans in and pulls out a bike.

“Who do you think this is for?”

It isn’t new but it is definitely a BMX. Leon stands out of the way while she puts it on the pavement. He looks at the Zebra because he isn’t sure if it’s true. That she really means it.

“Go on then,” she says. “You can ride a bike, can’t you?”

He jumps on and turns around and around in a circle.

“See!” he shouted. “My dad showed me.”

“Lovely! You be careful now!”

But Leon doesn’t want to be careful. He wants to ride as fast as a car. Faster than a car. Fast as a rocket. He pedals downhill, away from Sylvia’s house, and the bike gets faster and faster. The wind’s in his eyes, in his hair, ripping through his T-shirt like cold fingers on his skin and he keeps going, sailing right to the bottom of the road, feeling his legs pumping hard, hurting, a nice pain in his belly; all the bad things and halfway houses are behind him and can’t catch up. He swoops in a tight curve at the end of the road and then bombs back, uphill, faster than all the cars stuck in the traffic, passing houses that blur into one another, plunging his feet down and rising up again, down and up, down and up, to the very top of the hill, straight past Sylvia’s bungalow this time, straight past the Zebra on the sidewalk, all the way to the traffic lights and then he stops to get his breath.

Everything feels loose inside him, he’s longer and stronger, and even though he’s panting, he’s full of air, dizzy and light. He smiles as he sees a black man on a racing bike, pumping hard just like Leon, slinking in between the cars and buses. His back is bent low, curved, no shirt on. He has a shiny bald head and wide yellow sunglasses. He looks like a wasp. His bike is red like Leon’s but it’s faster, with narrow wheels, slick as a bullet. The man angles his bike so his knees are almost skimming the road, then just as he’s about to topple over, he turns the corner in one sweet and beautiful movement. Gone.

Leon pedals slowly back to Sylvia’s. The Zebra is standing outside with her hands in her pockets. She’s the best social worker in the world.

“There you go,” she says. “You were made for that bike, Leon.”

She opens the door to her car.

“I’ll come back next week and, if she’s a bit better, we’ll see about a visit to Maureen. I’ll take you myself.”

After school, the next day, Leon asks Sylvia if he can go outside with his new bike. She’s got the curtains drawn because it’s sunny outside and she’s watching her shows where people have to answer hard questions. She thinks she knows the answers when she doesn’t. The man with the wig on the TV asks the questions and Sylvia says the answer right at the same time as the contestant, like she’s clever. She didn’t even know who won the soccer game. Eventually, Sylvia tells him to be careful of traffic and not to stay out too long.