Page 49 of People Change

‘No, but now I want to.’

Talking Big

Then

The incident that led to Mehdi’s imprisonment happened when Kian was walking home from school with Teddy, Koyer and Ahmed.

Teddy was telling a story about a girl he was seeing. He was red-faced and excited as he relayed how far he had got with her, leaning into the group to emphasise his point. They all knew he was exaggerating. Kian imagined that if any of it was really true, Teddy would be cooler about it, less excited, more satisfied.

For late May, it was more muggy than sunny. They had their jackets off, shoved in their backpacks, and had undone their ties so they hung looser around their necks. There wasn’t long left until the summer holidays and life was good.

As Teddy continued, going into more graphic detail because he wasn’t getting the reactions he wanted, Ahmed said, ‘Shut up, man.’ It was said in a jokey way, but Kian could sense he wasn’t really joking. Of the four of them, Ahmed was the quietest. He was also the most religious; though he didn’t mind most of the shit they did, he drew the line in particular places.

Teddy’s face grew an even darker shade of scarlet. Kian felt a bit bad for him. He laughed to enforce the fact that Ahmed was obviously joking, and Koyer joined in, slapping Teddy on his back. The air was a bit tense after that, as though foretelling what was to come.

Teddy and Koyer walked ahead, while Ahmed and Kian hung back. ‘Why do we hang out with him again?’ Ahmed asked, his dark eyebrows furrowed. His lips were curled into an almost-smile though. His face was oval-shaped and thin, and he had a wisp of a moustache that he had let grow. It was the most impressive facial hair of anyone in their class.

‘You know he’s alright,’ Kian said. ‘He can just be annoying sometimes.’

It had always been Kian, Koyer and Ahmed since primary school. Though when they’d moved into high school, Teddy had joined the group. He fitted in for the most part, though maybe Kian only thought that because he liked him. Ahmed shrugged, defeated.

A red car driving past them slowed down to honk its horn three times, before the passenger leant out of the car window to shout ‘Wankers!’ at them. Ahmed and Kian shook their heads and laughed. Koyer, however, stepped forward, onto the kerb, turned to the car and shouted, ‘Fucking dickheads!’ He stuck his middle fingers up at them, waving them in the air, before adding, ‘Don’t run away next time, pussies!’

Teddy laughed, loud and raucous. The smile on his face soon dissipated, however, when the vehicle suddenly stopped in the middle of the road to reverse at speed towards them. Kian and Ahmed continued to walk, pretending they couldn’tsee what was happening, but Teddy and Koyer did not get the memo and squared up to the people in the car.

‘What did you say?’ the passenger said. He was a chubby lad, older than them, at least eighteen, with short strawberry-blond hair and a scowl imprinted on his pink face.

‘I said,’ Koyer began, elongating each word, ‘“Fuck off.”’

The passenger spat out of the window.

‘You think you’re a big man, do you? Get out the car then and let’s talk,’ Teddy said. He didn’t think they would actually leave their vehicle, which, of course, they did.

‘Fuck’s sake,’ Ahmed muttered. ‘We have to help them now.’

The driver got out of the car, a hench skinhead with tattoos on his neck. The passenger, who they had been arguing with, was smaller, fatter and less intimidating, though he looked like he could pack a punch.

‘Who do you think you’re talking to?’ the driver said to Teddy.

‘You – you started it,’ Teddy said, his voice wavering now, less confident.

‘I’m out now, let’s talk,’ the passenger said, clenching his fists. Kian was sure everyone had clocked his clenched fist, which made it obvious he didn’t mean actually talk.

‘Go on then,’ Koyer said, fists raised. Koyer was so angry, so ready to fight all the time. There really would be no calming him down now.

‘Fucking paki, go on then,’ the driver said.

What happened next went by in a blur. The passenger went for Teddy and the driver for Koyer. Kian pulled theskinhead off Koyer before he could punch him, yanking him away with all his might. The driver, in return, elbowed Kian out of the way and winded him, knocking him to the ground. Other people from their school had gathered around to watch the fight. The skinhead punched Koyer square in the face and he, too, fell to the ground. The skinhead turned to Kian, laughing, picking him up by his shirt.

‘You shit-faced prick touchedme?’ he said.

Kian’s heart was beating out of his chest. He knew it was a clichéd phrase, but it truly felt like it was going to jump out it hurt so much, even more than his ribs where he’d been elbowed. He was scared – and so ashamed of how scared he was. The skinhead had his arm raised, drawn back, ready to hit Kian when, from behind, he heard a familiar voice say, ‘What’s going on here?’

Mehdi. He felt such relief. He was promptly let go. The skinhead said, ‘Mehdi, mate, how’s it going?’ his voice softer, more jokey, with a touch of fear.

Kian straightened up his clothes, realising his shirt was ripped down the front. His first thought was: How was he going to explain this to his mum?

Looking around him, he saw his friends in similar disarray. Their clothes ripped. Koyer’s nose bleeding. Ahmed with a black eye. Teddy gripping his mouth in pain. He had got off lightly by comparison.