Free Rocks in the Belly by Jon Bauer Page B

the flu and I was only just 7. I’m slower now though probably, with my hurting hand.
    â€˜And where was I when you were being born, hmm?’
    I sit the robot in my lap and hold on to him. My burn is singing a stinging hot chilli song.
    â€˜Can you sit up?’ she says. ‘In fact move to the other seat so I can see you.’
    I do what she says a little bit so she can probably only see the top of my school cap which I pull down. She reaches round and touches my knee, then comes back to change gear. Not a bad gear change, for a woman.
    â€˜Where was Mummy when you were being born?’
    â€˜In hospital.’
    â€˜The same hospital as you were born in?’
    She’s gone doolally. I nod.
    â€˜Yes. So you came out of me?’
    â€˜Yeeessss.’
    â€˜And Daddy was who got me pregnant?’
    I giggle and she looks round and grins at me. When she turns back her face goes stiff.
    â€˜So why did you say you were fostered today, in class?’
    I shrug then smile at my robot, a bit of the beetroots making my face feel like my hand.
    â€˜Robert’s fostered, lovey. He was born to different people and we —’
    â€˜I know.’
    â€˜We’ve got him only until his parents can straighten everything out in their lives. Some people struggle more than —’
    â€˜I know I know I know I KNOW.’
    I’m breathing fast and the snake is thick inside.
    â€˜Alright, alright. So you can’t be a foster kid unless something happens to Mummy and Daddy and you have to go live with other people but you know we’ve made arrangements for if that happens. Not that it’s likely at all.’
    I think I’d rather go live with the real Jaws than be brung up by Auntie Deadly. When she hugs me my face gets wedged into her enormous fun bags. Dad is a big fan of fun bags but he says Auntie Deadly would have to lift her frock to show off hers.
    She’s old now and actually my mum’s auntie. My great aunt. Only she’s not great, she’s crap.
    She had a big fall once and Dad says she probably just tripped over her tits.
    Mum’s ones are quite small but that doesn’t matter, we’re all the same underneath. Except me. She’s talking about foster parenting again and how it’s our duty to play a part in the whole world and not just our bit of world and I’ve heard it heard it heard it heard it and me and my robot are looking out the window and forgetting to speak instead of nod so that she always makes us repeat ournodding in words. The robot is answering for me. I’m not here.
    â€˜But can you see how it would hurt our feelings then to have you say that in class? Can you see how I’d be worried about you thinking that?’ Then she says ‘I love you, you know, silly head.’ But only to stop me embarrassing her at school again.
    We’re late for Robert cos of me which I don’t mind. Whenever we get to his school I always try and be the first one to spot him before he sees us and before Mum sees him, which is pretty easy cos he doesn’t have a school uniform and everyone else does. This is his new school while he’s with us and Social Services haven’t coughed up the money for uniform yet. Mum hates that part, the getting money out of them. Meanwhile Robert just wears a white shirt and trousers until they buy him a uniform. We can’t even get him a haircut without permission.
    Today I see Robert first. He’s not sitting in one of his usual spots reading, but standing with his arms round himself and shivering.
    â€˜Robert’s all wet, Mum.’
    When he sees us he leans down and picks up his bag and walks slowly over.
    â€˜What’s happened to the poor love?’ she says and unbuckles herself, puts on the handbrake and opens the door all at the same time. She rushes over and I watch their faces and mouths like it’s a film on TV somewhere where the sound’s turned down. Like