War Bird

1. Got As Far As the Door

My baby sister is yelling fit to bring the tower block down. Her little face is purple, chubby arms waving in time with her screams. Mum runs into the living room, a shoe in one hand and her long blonde hair already slipping out from its bobble.

"Marla, don't just sit there!" She’s hopping in front of the TV trying to ram her shoe on. "Ribs might need her nappy changing."

"She does, it stinks like s-" 

“Oi!” A cushion nearly hits my head. “What have I said? No swearing in front of her!”

“Ugh, yeah. Sorry to be such a disappointment.”

"Oh, come on, don’t start please.” Her voice cracks and so I drag my eyes to hers. “I need to be at the cafe in five minutes!" She tugs her hair back into a knot, then dives behind the sofa to get her handbag. "Ribs made me run late yesterday, can’t do that again. Help your mum out, please?"

"Can't it wait until this show’s fin-"

"No it flamin' can't!" She gives me an icy stare then peers into her bag, nodding as she checks that she has all her stuff. "And don’t be mean. I don’t want her growing up into a little grumpypants." Like you. Is what she's thinking, but she doesn't need to say it out loud. Her voice does that for her.

"Fine," I grumble, and I go to the corner, where Ribbon thrashes around in her bouncing cradle, fat pink hands batting her moon-and-stars mobile. The air around her reeks of nuclear-strength shit. I pick her up and her little body squirms against me, tiny feet kicking me in the stomach. You can already tell she's going to be tall, like her Dad. She's got such long legs and arms. Not like me. I take after Mum in that respect; on the short side but with a larger than necessary chest. Even the baggiest of T-shirts can't hide that. 

"Bev will be round in an hour to check in on you." Mum's by the door, shoving an arm into her old coat. 

“Mum, I’m sixteen. I can take care of myself.”

"There should be an oven pizza in the freezer for dinner.” It’s like I ain’t said a word. “Salad bits in the fridge."

"When you finishing?" I ask, holding Ribs at arm's length now. Something is oozing down her leg and I don’t want it anywhere near me.

"Ten." She's out the door now, looking up at the grey sky over the estate. "Great, rain. Typical British summer." She blows a kiss. “Love you girls.” Then she slams the door shut and Ribs screams even harder.

"Alright, alright." I stroke her downy hair back from her salty-sticky face as I carry her through to Mum's room where her changing table is. "You're only lumped with me for an hour." Bev is our neighbour next but one. She says she's 38 but for real, she must be nearer 48. She's on disability because she has a wooden leg or something, so she's always over here, eating Mum's digestives and cutting her eye at me. 

"Apple never falls far from the tree!" Is all she ever says when she looks my way. "She's just like him, Kels, you gotta watch her. You'll see." She's right in one way I guess. I mean, I might be titchy like Mum but my face is all thanks to my dad. My skin’s sort of olive-y like his, with freckles and wide-set hazel eyes. I've also got his brown hair, and even though I change my style on like, a monthly basis, I still look the spit of him. But I don’t care what Bev says, I ain’t nothing like that man.

I hold my breath and unwrap Ribs' nappy. The stench hits me like a hammer in the nose and I have to bury my face in the crook of my elbow to hide from it. My eyes tear up so much I can hardly see what I’m doing. Ribs just giggles as I gasp for air.

"Jeez. You’re pure evil, kid." I quickly dump the dirty nappy and then clean her up, powder her just right and put a fresh nappy on. I mix up a fresh bottle of formula, then get her settled in her bouncy chair in the living room, where she starts sucking on her bottle, happy as anything. No worries in the world. What a life. Her little eyes twinkle up at me over the bottle and I can't help but smile. She makes everything okay without even trying. I give her a kiss and think about what I’m going to do today. There's nothing on TV now but the news. Yawn. Now, how to kill time until Bev gets here? 

I go to the window and look out over Clifton Estate, one of the biggest estates in East London apparently. I think that might be the only plus point to living here, it's hardly the prettiest place to live. Then again, I wouldn’t know about other homes, I mean, this is the only one I’ve ever had. The estate sits on top of a hill, four massive concrete buildings that look over a cracked, grey courtyard. There’s a patchy bit of green and a sad excuse for a playground behind my building. We’re about twenty minutes from the nearest cinema and the High Street ain’t nothing to shout about. Been that way my whole life, nothing’s changed. In fact, I bet I could make my way blindfold to the corner shop and back, right from my front door. I bet I could win a couple of quid from Asher if I pull that trick off.

I look up at the apartment block to my right, to the 10th floor. Asher Montani lives there. My best mate since forever, my Brother from Another Mother, or Bam as I sometimes call him. Two doors down from Asher is Ed Smith. He moved here not so long ago from Camden. His Mum died- car accident- and his Uncle Caleb took him in. Not that we ever see his Uncle though, I don’t even know what he does for a job. 

I can still smell the aftermath of Rib's nappy, so I open the window. The air, damp and cold for August, whistles through. With it, I can hear whiny, crackly music and I roll my eyes.

"Weirdo." I look down to the ground floor of Asher's building and there he is. Mr. Pelham. I don’t how he sits there day after day, just listening to that boring old jazz music. It don't seem to matter how cold or miserable it is, he’s there, staring into space.  He’s like, a hundred years old or something and he had a stroke not so long ago, so he makes no sense when he tries to talk. His prissy daughter ain’t much fun either. She’s really old too, but one of those hippy-type biddies with fluffy hair and Birkenstocks. Looks at us estate kids like we’re scum, always peering down her big nose when we walk past.

Man, I'm bored, I need Bev to get here and watch Ribs so I can bust out, see what Asher’s up to. I fold my arms on the windowsill and rest my head, staring out across the courtyard. Why is there never anything to do? At least it's summer holidays and the estate kids are all still knocking about. Come September though, I don't know what I'll do.

The music stops mid-song with a harsh scratching sound. I look down at Mr. Pelham, wondering what could have happened to make him stop his oh-so precious music. “Get an iPod old man,” I mutter. I push open the window further to look down but just as I do, there’s a cracking sound above me and the window-sill, as well as my hair, is showered in grey brick dust. I lean out even more and look up. There’s a jagged split in the wall above my window. What the...how did that even happen? My skin prickles, like I got eyes on me. I look down at Mr. P, all the way from my little perch on high, and even though I’m four storeys up, I swear the man is looking directly in my eye.

*Dedicated to @pmpanda for being super helpful*