Read When I Was Joe for Free Online Page A

and had persuaded Maria, the receptionist, to teach me Portuguese. I’m pretty upset to have lost these opportunities.
    My ultimate ambition is to be fluent in about twentylanguages and be one of those interpreters who work for Premiership football teams. Scoring Portuguese lessons was a really big thing for me because obviously it’s a key footballing language. I never talk much about it though. My mum has her heart set on me earning megabucks in the City and, according to Arron, languages are gay.
    â€˜School’s boring because I’ve done it all before. The sport is good though. Amazing facilities.’
    DI Morris doesn’t know it but he’s discovered more about my life as Joe than Mum and Doug have. He asks a bit about sport, but he’s more interested in football than athletics, so I don’t feel the need to tell him about extra training with Ellie. Come to that, I’m more interested in football than athletics. We establish that he supports West Ham and I support Man Utd – I know it’s wrong for a Londoner, but Manchester’s where my dad went to university – and he moves on to the point of his visit.
    â€˜Ty, we’d like to chat to you about the events leading up to the attack in the park. Just general background. Also I’m sure you’ve got some questions you’d like to ask us. It’s nothing to worry about.’
    Too right I’ve got some questions, I think, but I just nod. DC Bettany is taking notes, just like he did at the police station. They’re making out it’s all very friendly, but I’m not feeling too relaxed.
    DC Bettany produces a book of photographs.‘Anyone here you recognise? Not just that afternoon at the park, but from any time?’ I do see a few faces I know and point them out. They ask about St Saviour’s, which guys Arron and I hung around with. They ask about the paper round. They ask about what we did after school – mostly homework, I reply. I’m not sure they believe me.
    They ask about gangs. Had anyone ever asked me to join one? Would I have liked to join one? It depends. It depends a lot on what you think a gang is. According to the newspapers they’re mostly for black boys and they’ve got names and rules and tattoos and things. So I answer no without any worries.
    I’m tired, and I stifle a big yawn. The policemen glance at each other. DI Morris asks, ‘You’d been friendly with Arron since you were what, five years old?’
    I nod. ‘You were the only boys from your primary school to go to St Saviour’s, yes? Most of the rest went to St Jude’s or Tollington?’ The names of the schools seem like something from a film or a book – far away and fictional. I nod again.
    â€˜So you and Arron were quite close in your first year at secondary school. Did things remain that way?’ I nod again. The room is hot, and my throat feels incredibly sore, like someone inside me has been slashing with a razor. My arm is aching so that I can hardly lift themug of tea. It must be all the training.
    â€˜But you made new friends? Your circle increased?’ asks DI Morris. I find my voice.
    â€˜Arron, he was good at making friends. People wanted to be around him.’
    â€˜I see.’
    He asks a bit more. Boring stuff. Nothing to worry about. But I don’t like the way he seems to think it’s OK to ask about any part of my life. It makes me feel a bit exposed. Like I’m in the Big Brother house, except that would be way cooler than this dump.
    And then he says, ‘OK, Ty, thank you for answering our questions. I realise this is not at all easy for you. Now you can ask what you like, although I’m sorry to say that there may well be things that we cannot tell you.’
    â€˜Why are there things you can’t tell me, when I have to tell you everything?’ I ask.
    â€˜As a witness, you can’t be told about our investigation,