The fan whirred above me; its dull monotone in combination with the TV’s static only serving to lull me to sleep. My head was propped up on my elbow. I jumped when the static cleared all of a sudden and a loud noise rang out from the TV. In my confusion my arm flew out from under my chin and the next thing I knew my face kissed the counter with a loud smack.
I lay there, my nose throbbing as it had taken most of the impact. The counter was so cold. From the TV, I heard Edward confessing his undying love to Bella. Why was that damn movie always showing?
There was a rustle as my sister, Lynn, pushed aside the curtain as she came out of the kitchen. She held the newest order in a plastic bag. The smell of the rice and the sweet and sour pork made my stomach turn. It made me feel so sick.
'Go on, eat it.' They egged me on, and with the five pound note in Joe's hand I couldn't say no.'
‘Mama says go deliver this,’ Lynn said, dumping the food in front of me and bringing me back into the present day. I straightened up in my seat and held my nose; the smell of the rice was nauseating.
‘To where?’ I said it in English, she responded in Chinese. We looked at each other. It was a secret we both shared that I had never taken to the language. Whenever Mama or Father spoke to me in it, Lynn would either cut in or translate it for me without alerting them.
‘What did I do to you?’ She was glaring at me.
‘Well?’ I continued. ‘What?’
‘You took the last place.’
‘Eh?’
‘On the ski trip. You took the last spot. You knew I wanted to go.’ I rolled my eyes; it was a big mistake. She turned around and was about to go back into the kitchen when I called her name and she stopped.
‘Lynn?’ She glared at me over her shoulder.
‘I’ll drop out. I swear. Qing.’ I knew a little bit, just the basic words.
She still had an icy stare on her face. But then she said: ‘Idiot. Jay the Idiot, Mama should have named you.’ As she passed under the curtain she said, ’23 Willowby Street. It’s not far.’
‘Toa chie.’
#
Outside, it was pitch black. It was only half five, but then it was Winter. And despite my padded leather jacket, the cold bit into me.
I walked at a brisk pace. I knew where Willowby Street was, as Lynn said it wasn’t far. Almost a straight route really. The food smelled something wicked and I held it as far away as was possible without straining my left arm. After I had been walking for around five minutes my body warmed up slightly, and a little more relaxed, I let my mind wander off.
I ate all of the plates of rice: the first, the second, and even the third. I was stuffed. More than stuffed even. I was fit to burst and I could barely move. But I had five pounds in my pocket so I was happily stuffed; I laughed. My cousins, Joe and his brother Cheng, laughed with me. I looked at them happily, and then my laughter was cut short. No, they were laughing at me. Why? What was so funny? I frowned at them.
'What?' I asked Joe. He could barely contain himself. Finally he said:
'You know how Cheng made the rice?'
'Yeah? So?'
'You know how he didn't go to school last week...'
'Yes?'
'He has flu. And he coughs.'
The kitchen, empty except for ourselves, went quiet. And then Cheng and Joe cackled as I ran to the sink, clawing at my tongue.
There weren’t many cars around. One would pass every now and then, a blinding red racing towards me with speed and noise and then retreating into the distance once it had gone by. As I crossed the road at a junction, I thought I felt someone watching me. I didn’t pay too much attention to the feeling at first. I crossed over and turned down an alleyway next to a Tescos. It was a shortcut that came out near my destination; I often used it for school. But still, I couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. So when I passed a puddle from yesterday’s rain, I glanced into it to confirm or spurn my suspicions.
It was Dev Ashar. I jumped, then looked forward and walked a little faster.
He had been in the boys’ football team with me. We’d been friends in that way you are with teammates you don’t know
too well. At least until the rumours started to spread. And then no one would go within fifty miles of him. Not when that girl spoke up. Not when he stopped appearing at school after the coppers came. Not after the rape.
I didn’t know why he was here or where he was going or whether he did it or not. But I knew that I didn’t want to be here delivering this goddamn food. I wanted to be in my room on my 360, hacking up some Darkspawn.
I heard his breathing behind me; I heard the sound of his footfalls coming quicker than before. My heart was racing and I looked over my shoulder.
He was looking straight at me.
That was the point at which my slightly too-brisk pace turned into all-out running.
Dev started running when I did, his breathing loud and irregular. Our footsteps rang out in the small alleyway, and I shouted to him: ‘What do you want!’
He didn’t answer.
‘Lemme alone!’
He still didn’t answer. The bag of Chinese hit my leg after every step; it slowed me down. But even in my panicked state I knew that returning home without making the delivery wasn’t even an option.
Ahead I could see an exit, not the one I was looking for but an exit all the same. I ran as if I was going to go straight ahead, and then at the last minute I turned a sharp left. The look on Dev’s face as he ran past would have been funny if I wasn’t so scared.
My momentum carried me into the wall and my shoulder hit the brick with force, my head joined in the pain a moment later with a loud smack. I was dazed and there was a cut in my head, but I straightened up and kept running. No way was
Dev catching me. No way was I going home without making my delivery.
I kept going, turning right, turning left, turning down as many paths as I could. At some point I came out of the alley and ran through several gardens until I reached another alley. I didn’t care where I was going because I’d find my way back. That’s why I remembered to take my iPhone.
At last, I could hear no footsteps but my own; there was no laboured panting behind me. Only my own, my hitched and irregular breathing.
The food was long cold by now, and the customer might not pay let alone tip me. But oh well. At least there was no Dev.
I sat on the ground on the empty high street I found myself on, and took out my iPhone. I pressed it on. The screen remained black. I pressed the Home button. Still no change. It was dead.
I sighed and put it away. Then I glared at the food. If it wasn’t for that stupid customer and the fact that they were too lazy to cook, I wouldn’t be stuck here. Lost. Escaping from a rapist.
Stupid food. Stupid, disgusting, tasteless food. I hated Chinese food. Especially the rice.
I was sick for a fortnight. The days passed in a blur, but they all followed that same cycle: sleep, ache, retch. I remember the final two days, when Mama deemed me healthy enough to walk around. I went outside for a breath of fresh air, it was a warm Summer night. Lynn came outside and stood next to me.
'You feeling better?'
I looked at her and nodded.
'Good. You haven't eaten anything solid in a while. You should come inside, we're having some rice.'
And with that I was doubled over, retching onto the pale green grass.
I shivered in the cold Winter air, and I stuck my hand in my pocket. I fumbled around until I found a pen (why did I have a pen in my jacket? I don’t know) and I took out a piece of tissue from the bag. There were pictures of little Chinese bowls on the sides, Father had designed it himself. I scribbled a quick message on it. A message to myself. Maybe to the customer. I don’t know. I just felt like writing it. I wasn’t the kind of person to scream into the air, I wasn’t that open-minded. So I would entrust one of my secrets to a pen and a paper.
