Blood Donors Read Free Page A

Dad in prison, but The Finger, to me, was a prison also. I don’t mean little bare rooms with cracks in the walls and no carpets and echoey corridors. That ain’t where it’s at. I understand prison. Prison is where Dad can’t be with me and Mum. Prison is where me and Mum can’t be with Dad. Same place.
    He never came back, did he? Never so much as wrote. What happened to all his promises?
    Nearest we get to royalty now is Sis and Big Auntie. I can’t believe they got bug trouble too. I’m sittin’, open-mouth, Sabreboy huddled between my legs, rufflin’ the fur round his neck. I say to Sis
What, what? You telling me you got a infestation also?
    Infestation . That word I learned about when you got more bugs than you can count. Like these bloodsuckers come into our territory and attack us, like the police came and battled Dad, which was why everythin’ turn dark. Now, even though we ain’t got much space here in The Finger, these bugs comin’ and infestin ’ us anyway. It ain’t right. Why ain’t they goin’ marchin’ on the big mansion houses? They get richer pickin’s there. Nicer wallpaper to drop their full-stop poos.
    Yahh
Sis waves a hand dismissively.
You get used to it, innit. Communal livin’, yeah? People downstairs got bedbugs, we got bedbugs, people upstairs got bedbugs. They creep through the cracks, yeah? We wanna be glad we ain’t got no cockroaches, ’cos that bad, boy, I’m tellin’ you
.
    Always on the bright side, that’s Sis.
    Right there and then we hear sirens nee-nawin ’ up from the street below, and rush back to the balcony to see what goin’ down.
    An ambulance, pullin’ up right outside the entrance to The Finger. We see a crew runnin’ out carryin’ medical bags and a rolled-up stretcher.
    Some sad person had another bad accident
says Sis.
    All summer we gettin’ meat wagons visitin’ us here in the tower block, ’cos right here citizens always managin’ to do a hurt to themselves, or each other. Sometimes it jus’ families, mums and dads battlin’ each other. Other times it be knife fights, someone gettin’ shanked, which is dumb. I mean why you wanna go and stab some boy from your own estate? They jus’ as likely to go and stab you back. Then you both be bleedin’ and dyin’ in your mama’s arms. Don’ make no sense. Sometimes it’s drugs, which don’ make no sense either. Why people wanna injec’ themselves with stuff that poison them dead?
    People do it ’cos the rest of their crew do it.
    My dad used to say
If your best friend jump off the edge of a cliff, you go follow him, what that make you?
    He give me that serious look, straight in my eyes like a laser.
    Tell me
I said.
    It make you a lemon
.
    And I ain’t no lemon.
    Dad never followed no gangs, had no need, he was one-man gang. Didn’t do no drugs neither. Always said that me and Mum got him as high as he needed to go.
Ain’t no better buzz than the love of my leadin’ lady
he said,
nor my Little Prince
.
    That was me: Little Prince.
    When I was titchy, Dad was always tellin’ me things, sharin’ sayin’s, makin’ cracks about life. Mum says I got my temper from him. But that ain’t right. I got his wisdom. That’s why I’m my own man. The only gang I need is my family, and Mus, and Sis, and my dog.
    I remember three times, people goin’ and doin’ suicide, which make even less sense – slittin’ themselves like they jus’ want their life to flow right outta them, drip, drip down the drain. Worse, a year ago, someone jump. Jump from the top floor, dive straight off of the balcony – splat. Mum saw it with her own eyes, but she say I don’ wanna look. I’m thinkin’ she tellin’ the truth, ’cos bad business is down on the concrete below. Lemon Squash.
    Ain’t no authority gonna come and do nothin’ about all this. Far as they concerned we all just a bunch of scuzzies. Get what we deserve.
    Now the nee-nawin ’ is back. We listen out. We can hear the ambulance men