We Can Be Heroes Read Free Page A

and her great-great-grandma was half Hindu or something. And it’s not like we’re dead religious anyway, so I don’t know what the big problem was – except Priti is a hard name to live up to, you know!’
    She looks at me like I’m expected to say something here, but I don’t. She tuts loudly.
    I look over at Stevie’s house. She’s waving to us from her bedroom window. She’s wearing her pyjamas and holding a princess doll. I wave back. Priti doesn’t.
    â€˜So what makes you think they’re going to kill your sister?’ I ask. ‘Did they tell you?’
    â€˜No, but she’s got this totally unsuitable boyfriend called Tyreese. Now
there’s
a stupid name! Anyway, I’m the only one who knows about him and I have to keep it a secret or she’ll be dead!’ Priti tries to sound really serious, but she can’t stop grinning. ‘Zara let me have some of her lipstick and a packet of cigarettes if I promised not to tell because it’s a matter of life and death.’
    â€˜Why doesn’t she just break up with him if it’s so dangerous?’ I say.
    â€˜She reckons she’s in love with him.’
    â€˜Is she?’
    â€˜No way! She’s too in love with herself.’
    â€˜So has she got some kind of death wish then?’
    â€˜Nah, she just reckons she’s being cool and rebellious. Combination of having an overachieving mother and watching too much
Hollyoaks
.’
    â€˜And they’ll definitely really kill her if they find out?’ I say, still unconvinced.
    â€˜They might just send her to Pakistan and force her to marry some old bloke. Or they might kill her. Depends, I s’pose.’
    â€˜On what?’
    â€˜Dunno.’ Priti shrugs. ‘Want some bubblegum?’
    She passes me a bit of gum, pink like her shoes. We sit and chew for a bit and she picks more bits of tarmac off her socks. ‘Won’t your mum mind?’ I ask, pointing to her socks.
    â€˜She’s going to be well mad. My dad says the sooner they can pack me off to Pakistan and get
me
married to some poor fool the better. He reckons he’s joking, but I know better. Dads!’ she says.
    And the way she says it reminds me of the way mygrandad said ‘Asians!’ earlier and that makes me smile – because it’s hard to imagine anyone who is
less
like my grandad than Priti.
    At bedtime, I ask Granny how long I’ll be staying, but she doesn’t really give me an answer. I know it’s going to be a while because, if it was only for a day or so, I’d have been sent to Grandma’s (Mum’s mum, who lives near to us, but she’s got arthritis and has to have help with cooking and washing and stuff) or to stay with a friend. My mum doesn’t like troubling Rita and Barry (that’s Granny and Grandad) unless she has to. She says it’s because of the distance, but I know that’s not the real reason.
    â€˜Let’s not worry about how long you’ll be staying for the moment,’ Granny says. ‘Let’s just concentrate on having a nice time while we’ve got you.’
    â€˜Can I call Mum later?’ I ask. I know what the answer will be.
    â€˜Maybe tomorrow,’ she says.
    â€˜Right.’
    After she’s gone, I draw a cartoon of Priti on herskateboard, being chased by two balaclava-wearing assassins, also on skateboards, waving giant swords. Then I draw me, dressed as a commando, taking out the assassins with a flying karate kick.
    Kerpow!
THINGS PEOPLE WANT TO KNOW ABOUT MY DAD DYING IN 9/11
    1. What was he doing in New York that meant he happened to be there on that day? (He was at a meeting in the World Trade Center.)
    2. Did he make any phone calls before he died? What did he say and did we keep any messages he left? (No. Nothing. No.)
    3. Have I been to Ground Zero (the place where the Twin Towers used to be) to see where it happened? (No.)
    4.