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A while later, we pulled up at a car park outside some warehouses. I was confused—why had Caiden stopped here? It wasn’t like there was anything around.
“They should be here,” he was mumbling to himself.
“Who should be?” I dropped my bike to the ground, standing and stretching out my aching legs. Caiden didn’t reply, scanning the area. The next minute, a black car with a large spoiler, huge wheels, and blacked-out windows turned into the mostly empty car park, and Caiden jogged towards it.
As I went to follow after Caiden, the car doors opened, and two people I hadn’t seen in almost a year stepped out.
Creed and Mack.
We exchanged fist bumps, and then I dropped back, my gaze going between them both. “What are you two doing here?”
Mack grinned. “You can thank rich boy for that.”
“What? Who’s rich boy?”
Caiden stuck his hand up and pointed his thumb at himself. “That would be me. Your friend thinks he’s so funny with his nicknames.”
“I do.” Mack shrugged. Dropping his grin, he turned back to me. “We heard about your mum. Um. Sorry. We’ll be at the funeral. A lot of the estate’ll be there, probably. We, uh, heard that you weren’t allowed to come, but we’ll make sure she has a good send-off.”
I stared down at the ground, scuffing the toe of my trainer against the gritty tarmac. I’d been able to suppress it for a minute, but now the ache deep inside me had returned again. It felt like I couldn’t breathe. “Thanks,” I managed.
“Whatever we can do.” Creed stepped around Mack, and for the first time, I noticed he had a small plastic bag in his hands. “I got one of my boys to check through her stuff before it got taken away, and we found this. Thought you might want it.”
When I took the bag from him, I noticed my hand was shaking. Tugging the sleeve of my jumper lower to hide it, I cleared my throat. “Thanks.” That seemed to be the only word I could manage to say.
Creed nodded. “It’s no problem. Like I said, whatever we can do. And you know you’ve always got a job with me if you want it.”
I nodded, choking down the lump in my throat. No one would ever see me cry. I’d worked hard on perfecting my mask of ice, and it wasn’t going to crack now.
The boys attempted to make conversation for a bit longer, but the atmosphere was strained, and I was almost relieved when they left. I was too raw to deal with all this.
“Was it okay that I did that? I thought…thought you might wanna see your friends. Have a connection to your mum, y’know.” Caiden shot me a sideways look as he straddled his bike, biting down on his lip.
“Yeah. Yeah, it was okay.”
* * *
Back at home, I shut myself in my room and emptied the bag onto my bed. Two crumpled photos fell out, plus a rectangular package wrapped in Marvel superhero wrapping paper. I studied the photos. One was a picture of me as a baby in the hospital, not long after I’d been born. I recognised it from our flat—it had been stuck to the fridge with a magnet from Brighton Beach. The other, I hadn’t seen before. My mum sat on the sofa, holding me on her lap. I must’ve been around two or something, maybe even younger. Smoke curled in the air from a cigarette she was holding, and she had a smile on her face that I’d never seen before. She actually looked happy.
I carefully placed the photos inside my bedside drawer, then turned my attention to the wrapped package. There was no tag, but my name was scrawled on it in biro. I pulled away the Sellotape and opened it up. A battered, creased book fell out, and I turned it over.To Kill a Mockingbird,by Harper Lee.
My brow furrowed as I stared down at the book. Why would my mum give me this? It had obviously seen better days, and I didn’t even read books.
Flipping open the first page, I immediately saw the writing inside. Biting down on my fist with one hand, I held the book open with the other and read my mum’s final words to me.
Zayde,
Happy 13th birthday. This book was my dad’s and it’s the only thing left of mine that hasn’t been sold, so I wanted you to have it. I hope it finds its way to you.
I know I wasn’t a good mum. I know I should have tried harder. You were unexpected and I was only 17 and didn’t know how to deal with you. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for everything I got wrong.
I’m glad I sent you away, because being around me and my life wasn’t good for you.
One day I hope you’ll understand and forgive me.
Mum
xx
