Someone Else's Son by Sam Hayes Read Free Book Online Page A

mother didn’t like the din. She told him to stop. ‘It’s like dirt on the floor, darling. You’d take off your muddy shoes if I asked, wouldn’t you?’ He regretted it now, but he’d left the guitar on the railway line for a train to mash. Part of him wished it was him that was splintered and scattered – just an echo of a life once loved left behind.
    ‘The bread-maker,’ he said, businesslike. ‘Or the pressure washer.’ But who? he wondered. His father was always ungrateful and Fiona . . . well, he wouldn’t give her the shit off his boots, let alone one of these prized babies. He’d done most of his teachers and some of his classmates. They just mocked him and sold the loot on eBay. Used the money for booze and fags. He could do the same, of course, but he preferred not to. He didn’t want to devalue the hope they represented.
    ‘That girl.’ He winced as the words sounded louder than he’d intended. ‘That. Girl.’ He broke her down, as if That Girl was her name. ‘Miss Girl. Miss That Girl, I would like to give you this bread-making machine as an act of random friendship. May we be friends, Miss Girl?’ Max pulled a face. It wasn’t right. Not the bread-maker, he decided. He pulled the white and orange box that contained the pressure washer off the pile. He’d not opened it yet. Virgin goods. He liked that. ‘Miss Girl, I have this pressure washer, and I’d like you to have it.’
    In his mind, Miss Girl’s face lit up. She dropped the heavy pack that she always carried – full of books, he’d noticed – and she gratefully took the box from him. ‘Just what I’ve always wanted,’ she said, beaming. ‘Now I can clean the drive. Now I can hose down my dad’s car. Now I can strip the graffiti off the garage wall. Thanks, Max. Thanks so much.’ And Miss Girl stood on her tiptoes and gave him a kiss. A long, slow, wet, lingering kiss full on the mouth. He got an erection.
    He shook his head and stared at the list. Pressure washer. Yep, he remembered that competition. Judge must have had a sense of humour. The local hardware store had been doing a promotion in the car park. Ten uses for a pressure washer, the girl in the bikini had said, waving a leaflet at Max when he’d popped in for a light for his bike. Have a go. He’d leant on someone’s bonnet, filling out his ten suggestions. The last one, he distinctly recalled, was Cleaning all the shit outta my life .
    ‘Pressure washer it is then,’ he said, putting a line through the item. Next to it he wrote Miss Girl. To be delivered. By hand .
     
    Dayna Ray was crying when she felt the tap on her shoulder. She flinched. They’d come back to get her. Bitches. Her breathing quickened as another panic attack welled inside her.
    ‘Hey.’ It was a boy’s voice. She didn’t recognise it. She looked up from behind the curtain of her hair. Her fringe was too long and she let it hang over her eyes to conceal the black mess that she knew ringed her lashes.
    ‘What?’ she said. Her breathing slowed.
    ‘I was gonna ask you the same.’
    Dayna sat bolt upright. It was him . Shit. ‘You don’t need to sit down, you know.’ Best get rid of him. She looked such a state.
    At this, the boy kicked a crumpled Coke can out of the way and dropped down next to her in the gutter. He offered her a fag. She shrugged and took one.
    ‘Bad day?’ he asked.
    ‘Bad life.’
    ‘You’ll be needing this then,’ he said, sliding a box across the alley to her. It was wrapped in yellow paper.
    Dayna frowned. ‘It’s not my birthday.’ She touched it. Ash fell on the paper. ‘You weird or something?’ She brushed off the ash. ‘Did you follow me?’
    The boy stared at her, shrugging. She could see the tiny flicks of his eyes as his gaze ran around her face. She knew she looked a mess. He laughed. ‘You look like a vampire. A ghoul or something.’ He blew smoke at her. ‘Go on. Open it. It’s for you.’
    Dayna frowned and sighed. ‘Shouldn’t