Read The Drowning for Free Online Page B

look now. Concentrate. As well as the pack of cigarettes and the lighter, there’s something smooth, heavy when I close my fingers around it. Without looking, I know it’s a jackknife. I can see it in his hand as he flicks the blade in and out, in and out. I let it go and keep searching, digging into the corners of both pockets. No coins. Shit.
    I pull the door shut behind me. I need some food, but I’ve no idea how I’m going to get it. I jog tentatively along the walkway and down the stairs — no vaulting over the edge today. There are some little kids playing football by the garages. They stop when they see me, just stop and stare silently. One of them picks up the ball and holds it close to his chest.
    I trot around the corner and swing into the shop on the end of the block. It’s the sort of place that sells everything — newspapers, toilet paper, candy bars, bread, booze — if you’ve got any money, which I haven’t. Well, hardly any. I’m just hoping I’ll think of something.
    The guy behind the counter clocks me as soon as I walk in. He holds his hand up to the customer at the register. “One moment,” he says, then he leans over the counter and calls across the shop to me.
    “You’re banned. Don’t you remember? I don’t want any more of my stuff going missing.”
    I start to color up. The people in the queue are looking now. He’s as good as called me a thief in front of them.
    “I just want to get a few things,” I say, trying to stay calm. I’mthinking that maybe I can ask to owe him or say that my mum will pay him back.
    He shakes his head.
    “Not in here.”
    “Please, I’m hungry and thirsty. We’ve got nothing in the house. Mum hasn’t had a chance to get anything since … since, you know.”
    The guy’s expression softens. Two of the people in the queue look away, the woman nearest the register makes a sympathetic face. They all know.
    “Just a can of Coke and some bread or something,” I say.
    The guy nods reluctantly. “Okay. Quickly,” he says.
    I open the fridge and pretend to take my time choosing, running my hand across the tops of the cans. When the shop guy goes back to serving the woman, I slip a can into the inside pocket of my jacket, and then take another. It’s instinctive, my hand does it so quickly. And it was easy, so easy — I must have done it before. I feel bad, but I haven’t got any money, have I? If he doesn’t let me have the one he can see, at least I’ll have the one in my pocket.
    I follow the aisle around and pick up some sliced white bread and a can of beans, then I walk up to the queue.
    “You go in front, love,” the woman close to the register says. “That’s all right, isn’t it?” she says to the people behind. They both mutter something that could be “Yeah,” too embarrassed to do anything else. I shuffle past them and stand next to her. I still don’t know how I’m going to play this.
    “Can I owe you?” I say to the guy, nervously.
    He looks at me in disbelief.
    “What?” he says.
    “Can I owe you? Mum’s gone out and taken all the cash.”
    His hand shoots out and he’s gripping the top of the baked bean can. I was an idiot to even try this, but what else was I supposed to do?
    “What are you doing, coming into my shop with no money? What are you doing?” His voice is much too loud and a little bit of spit lands on the top of the hand holding the can.
    I can hear tutting behind me, but the woman’s scrabbling in her purse. She hands me a two-pound coin.
    “It’s all right, Ashraf,” she says. “Here, Carl, pay with this.”
    Ashraf looks at her like she’s completely lost her marbles.
    I smile at her gratefully, put the coin on the counter, and slide it toward Ashraf.
    He blows air out slowly through pursed lips, takes the coin like it’s infected, and puts my change on the counter. I look at the money and then at the woman.
    “You have it,” she says. “Go on, take it. How’s your mum doing?”
    Violent.