Free When I Was Joe by Keren David Page A

have time for me any more. Arron, with his scary new friends. Arron, with his little jokey digs and put-downs that made me wonder if he really didn’t want to be my friend . . . but then there was the iPod. . . I think back to Ty, patient and anxious, examining all the mixed messages that his friend was handing out and I just despise the poor sod – I mean me. It’s getting harder to remember that I was Ty, that he really was the same person that I am now.
    We go and play kick-about in the playground with Brian’s friends and all is well until Carl and his cronies decide to join in. They smash the ball here and there, and then Carl launches himself at my shin in an assaultdressed up as a tackle. ‘Ow!’ I crash to the ground. Carl and his mates are shouting with laughter. Good thing he wasn’t wearing studs or I’d have a pulverised leg.
    â€˜Watch it,’ I shout as I hobble off, wondering if I’ll even be able to train with Ellie today. During the afternoon a huge bruise emerges, and it’s quite painful as I jog to meet her on the running track. ‘What’s the matter?’ she asks instantly, and I show her. ‘Ouch, that looks bad. What happened there?’
    â€˜Oh, nothing. Just playing football in the playground and some ape crashed into me.’
    â€˜I can guess which one.’
    â€˜Yeah, yeah. It’ll be OK.’
    â€˜What happened yesterday? Is your mum better now?’
    â€˜Yes, I think so,’ I answer, then wonder how Mum has been today. What happened with Doug this morning? Has it set her off again? What will I find when I go home? I remember the packet of cigarettes retrieved from the rubbish bin.
    â€˜Ellie,’ I say, ‘sometimes my mum talks about, you know, moving on from here.’
    â€˜Going back to London?’
    â€˜Maybe,’ I say, wondering how everyone seems to know that we even come from London. Did I saysomething? I don’t think so. Maybe I just have an air of city sophistication. Maybe not. ‘If I, you know, just leave all of a sudden, then don’t worry about me. It’ll be OK.’
    She gives me a strange look. ‘If you say so, Joe, but it’d be nice if you kept in touch though.’
    I find myself making a promise I’ll never be able to keep. Then we start warming up on the track and running races against the stopwatch. She seems pretty happy with the results, and there’s something satisfying about running through the pain in my leg. I can cope. I can endure. It’s got to be a useful skill.
    We’re nearly done when Mr Henderson comes out to join us. He looks a bit ticked off, and doesn’t really cheer up when Ellie shows him her clipboard of times. ‘Very good, well done,’ he says, then, ‘Joe, when you’re done I need a serious word with you.’
    â€˜We should be finished in ten minutes. Is that OK?’ asks Ellie.
    â€˜I’ll be in my office,’ he replies.
    As I cool down and stretch I scan my brains for reasons why he might be cross with me. As far as I can see there’s nothing that I’ve done, but who knows? Ellie seems puzzled too and says, ‘It’s probably nothing, don’t worry about it. I had a chat with him yesterday and told him you were doing very well.’
    Mr Henderson’s office is a smelly muddle of sports equipment and sweaty kit. It’s quite cosy though. There’s a squashy armchair in the corner and he nods at it as I come in. I sit on the edge, feeling a bit nervous.
    â€˜Joe, why were you out on the running track when Mr Hunt tells me you had detention this afternoon?’
    â€˜Oh. I totally forgot.’
    â€˜Mr Hunt is none too happy with you. Says you were “bordering on the insolent” this morning and came into the classroom late and half dressed.’
    To my surprise, I feel myself getting a bit upset. ‘The thing is, he thinks I’m being rude when I