parents would go fucking crazy if they ever found ‘Our out.’ He points a slim brown finger. is not the time or the place. So just fuck off back to Eldon before you ‘This cause any more trouble.’ brother stand still. all jerky movements like done a line too Ghalia’s can’t He’s he’s many. I get it. Why did he chase us up the road just to tell me to fuck off don’t again? proper psycho. He keeps wrenching his head round, checking over his He’s shoulder. I look closer at his face. sweating. He looks nervous as hell. I bet he He’s fucking is, what with Phil Harris and his bunch of angry white twats shouting that Muslims should be sent back to where they came from. And now I know. They all look like me and I look like them. No wonder shitting himself. It makes me he’s mad. Why should he feel scared in his own country? known Ghalia longer than I’ve me own kids. she supposed to go home to? This is where she was born and Where’s where she grew up. Same as me. What makes her different? fuming. I want to I’m scream and shout, but I know a stupid question. I look at brother. We it’s Ghalia’s are different. Our families are different. Our different. They all speak food’s differently. But so what? Why does it matter? it such a huge problem? Why’s Fucking hell, life is boring enough without everyone having to be the same. I want to be different too. Especially compared to those cunts in the NDL. I want Ghalia to know that. got nothing to do with all that ‘I’ve shit.’ I point towards Addington High Street. people on Eldon ‘Most don’t.’ know all ‘I that.’ He shakes his head. told each other everything. All our ‘We secrets.’
‘Our parents would go fucking crazy if they ever found out.’ He points a slim brown finger. ‘This is not the time or the place. So just fuck off back to Eldon before you cause any more trouble.’ Ghalia’s brother can’t stand still. He’s all jerky movements like he’s done a line too many. I don’t get it. Why did he chase us up the road just to tell me to fuck off again? He’s proper psycho. He keeps wrenching his head round, checking over his shoulder. I look closer at his face. He’s sweating. He looks nervous as hell. I bet he fucking is, what with Phil Harris and his bunch of angry white twats shouting that Muslims should be sent back to where they came from. And now I know. They all look like me and I look like them. No wonder he’s shitting himself. It makes me mad. Why should he feel scared in his own country? I’ve known Ghalia longer than me own kids. Where’s she supposed to go home to? This is where she was born and where she grew up. Same as me. What makes her different? I’m fuming. I want to scream and shout, but I know it’s a stupid question. I look at Ghalia’s brother. We are different. Our families are different. Our food’s different. They all speak differently. But so what? Why does it matter? Why’s it such a huge problem? Fucking hell, life is boring enough without everyone having to be the same. I want to be different too. Especially compared to those cunts in the NDL. I want Ghalia to know that. ‘I’ve got nothing to do with all that shit.’ I point towards Addington High Street. ‘Most people on Eldon don’t.’ ‘I know all that.’ He shakes his head. ‘We told each other everything. All our secrets.’