When I Was Joe by Keren David Read Free Book Online

trial.’
    â€˜What happens after the trial? Will I go on being Joe?’
    â€˜It’s possible. When you give evidence we will certainly apply for your identity to be protected – but after the trial it may be safer to move you. I’d think of this time as a temporary phase.’
    I want to ask about Arron, and his family, but theslasher feeling in my throat is back. I say, ‘Can my mum get a job? Can you help her? I don’t think we will have enough money.’
    â€˜Doug is here to help with that, and he should make sure that there is enough money either way, job or no job.’ DI Morris leans forward. ‘Would it be better for her if she had a job? Is she a bit depressed and lonely, do you think?’
    Of course she is, I want to shout, but instead I just nod. DI Morris says, ‘OK then, I’ll speak to Doug. Try not to worry too much. Thanks Ty,’ and he hands me his card. ‘If you want to speak to me then call this number.’
    Why would I want to do that? Talking to him is like watching a film with the sound turned down. You know there are important bits that you’re missing but you can only guess at them. You’re left filling the gaps with stuff that might be worse than reality.
    There’s a lot that he’s not telling me. But does he realise how much I’m not telling him?

CHAPTER 6
Red Bus
    I’m jittery and sleepless, jumpy with nerves. I have a constant buzz of nausea, which buggers my appetite completely. I’m pretty much existing on a diet of raw caffeine, Coke Lite to be specific. I’ve helped myself to a few of Mum’s cigarettes.
    This is not the greatest state in which to start a heavy new training programme. Ellie sat down with me on the first day and went through a set of health questions, and I told her exactly what she wanted to hear. So, I sleep for nine hours a night, eat a healthy balanced diet and have never smoked. More or less true six months ago, give or take the odd kebab. Mostly true just a few weeks ago. But now I’m forcing myself to nibble a handful of crisps, which is all I’ve eaten today before facing her for the third training session this week.
    It’s a bright sunny day, but instead of going to therunning track we head for the school gym. It’s not like any school gym I’ve ever been in. They call it the Fitness Suite and it’s full of expensive equipment.
    It’s very quiet because most people are outside. She sorts out a programme for me, shows me how things work and writes it all down. ‘I’m not going to be able to give you as much time as this in the next few weeks,’ she says. ‘I’ve got a big competition coming up. So you need a programme you can work at on your own.’ It all sounds like hard work.
    â€˜What you need is an access card,’ she adds.
    â€˜A what?’
    â€˜An access card, so you can use all the sports facilities of the school out of hours. The only thing is they don’t hand them out to anyone as young as you, but I can go and have a word with Mr Henderson if you like.’
    She smiles, then ruins it. ‘Anyway, you seem much older than your age. I can’t believe you’re still only twelve.’
    â€˜I’m not
twelve
,’ I say, devastated, adding lamely, ‘I’m nearly fourteen, actually.’ What an insult. I’m going to be fifteen in November.
    She grins. ‘Sorry! Let me ask anyway.’ She tells me which buttons to press to set up the treadmill to let me run for forty minutes, and says, ‘I’ll be back soon.’
    It’s strange running on a treadmill, and I don’t like it so much. I feel like I’m about to fall backwards or wobble off. It takes a few stops and starts to get going, and eventually I find the easiest thing is to shut my eyes and imagine that I’m outdoors. At first it’s hard going, then the rhythm of the breathing takes over, and the