Unhooking the Moon (18 page)

‘I bet he's been out all night,' said the Rat. ‘Boogying with big-butted women. What shall we do, Bob?'

‘Nothing. Just leave it.'

We watched him as we made our way out of the park and he watched us. We headed up Fifth Avenue
with the Rat looking back over her shoulder. ‘He's still watching us!' Then she turned around and walked backwards. ‘If he was nice to us, would you speak to him? Would you want him to be our friend?'

‘Can't you forget about him?'

‘No,' said the Rat. ‘I can't.'

We walked around until we found the swimming pool and then we waited outside until it opened. The Rat asked if it was OK if we took a shower. The woman didn't seem to mind. She even gave us free sachets of shampoo.

‘Check them before you go inside, honey. Make sure there's no one in there.'

Whether she meant cleaners or homeless people I didn't know, but I made the Rat check inside before I took my shower. ‘All clear!' she shouted.

The floor of the men's changing room was damp with disinfectant, and the shower walls were grimy with grunge. But the showers blasted out hot water and boy did it feel good. I soaped up and washed it off. And then I soaped up again just for the hell of it. When I stepped out of the shower, my skin was so clean it was shiny. I put on a clean T-shirt and some regular jeans, glad to be out of my bib and brace dungarees, and then I combed my hair in the mirror.

‘Oh, I've got company this morning.'

I turned to see an old black guy. ‘I'll be out of your way in a minute.'

‘Don't rush on my account!' He gave me a grouchy look. ‘What's your story? Folks kick you out?'

‘Something like that.'

‘Where you sleeping?'

‘The park, not far from the Metropolitan Museum.'

He shook his head in disgust. ‘If I slept over there they'd move me on at gunpoint. You white kids can get away with anything!'

I put my stuff in the rucksack. ‘Where are you sleeping?' I asked, hoping it wouldn't offend.

‘Not that it's any of your business, but I'm over by the Harlem River. Nobody bothers me over there. It's quiet, and I've always liked being by the river,' he said, the anger leaving his voice.

‘Me too.'

Then his face cringed. ‘Hey kid, you wouldn't happen to have any shampoo would you? They wouldn't give me none upstairs.'

‘Sure, I have a sachet. You can keep it.'

He smiled as he took it from me. Then he had a good sniff. ‘Orange. Smells nice.' His face softened. ‘Yeah, well, you seem OK. If you get moved on you can come
over. Just ask for Erwin, everyone knows me.'

‘Thanks, Erwin.'

‘But listen, one night, two at the most, that's all I can do. Otherwise you get all sorts turning up … And listen, I didn't mean to shout.'

‘It's OK. It was good talking to you, Erwin.'

I went outside to wait for the Rat. She came out wearing her French National soccer kit and bouncing a soccer ball.

‘Where did you get that?'

‘I brought it with me. And I brought a small pump so I could pump it up.' She kicked the ball as she came. ‘Let's go look for a soccer pitch.'

‘They won't have a soccer pitch here. Americans don't play soccer.'

But the Rat roamed the park determined to find one. And to my surprise she did. It was a proper soccer pitch with goals and nets and good grass. She dropped her rucksack to the ground and kicked the ball high into the air.

‘We'll play penalties. You go in goal.'

She always wanted me to go in goal, but I didn't mind. I only played to keep her happy. She put the ball on the penalty spot and blasted it as hard as she could. It went straight into the corner of the net. I
never stood a chance. ‘Goal!' she shouted and threw her arms in the air. As I threw the ball back to her I saw him. He wasn't dressed in a suit today: he was wearing basketball shorts and sneakers.

The Rat looked at me and then she turned quickly. ‘Ice!'

Ice was looking at me and he didn't look happy.

The Rat's hands went to her hips. ‘You stay away from my brother, Ice!'

She must have thought he'd come to fight, but I could see he hadn't. He looked sad, the way the Old Man did when he felt down.

‘Listen, about yesterday. I just wanted to be by myself, so I could think. I didn't mean to disrespect your parents. That was wrong. I shouldn't have said what I said.'

‘Are you apologizing, Ice?' asked the Rat. ‘Is that what you're doing?'

‘Well, I guess I am. But you were—'

Ice never had a chance to finish. The Rat ran at him and threw her arms around his waist. ‘We're sorry too, Ice!'

The Iceman looked down at the Rat with his arms held out. ‘Hey, little girl. Can you let go? … Hey, can you hear me?'

The Rat let go. ‘Sorry, Ice. I'm just so pleased you want to be our friend!'

‘I never said—'

‘And we weren't lying, Ice. Our dad died and we're living in the park until we find our uncle.'

Ice looked down at her screwed-up face. I could see he felt bad and then I felt bad for him.

‘Do you want to play soccer, Ice?' I asked.

The Rat's eyes widened. ‘Do you want to, Ice? Do you know how? Because if you don't, I can teach you!'

‘I have to be going. I just wanted to—'

‘Here, just try.' The Rat dropped the ball at his feet and ran to the goal. Ice kicked the ball soft and she caught it. ‘That was good, Ice. Try again.' Ice kicked the ball harder. The Rat pushed it away and it landed at my feet. I kicked it back to Ice and he kicked it into the goal.

‘That was great, Ice,' said the Rat. ‘Your turn in goal, Bob.'

Ice and the Rat kicked the ball to one another, taking turns to shoot at the goal. Ice went through the motions at first, just to keep her happy, but then he got into it. He juggled the ball from one foot to the other before he took a shot, and he ran to retrieve
it when it passed him. The sadness seemed to leave Ice as he played soccer with the Rat. After a while he looked to be enjoying himself. But he was nowhere near as happy as the Rat.

‘You never got our names! My name's Marie Claire DeBillier and that's my brother Bob. We're from Winnipeg, Ice. Have you ever been to Winnipeg? You have so many fans there. But we're your biggest fans because we like you the best.'

Ice shot at the goal and I saved it.

‘Unlucky, Ice!' shouted the Rat.

I threw the ball back to him and he trapped it under his foot. ‘You know, I don't want to get involved, but you kids shouldn't be sleeping in the park. Maybe you could go to the cops. They'd put you somewhere safe.' Then he kicked the ball to the Rat.

‘They'd put us in a home, Ice,' said the Rat showing off her soccer skills. ‘Them homes are full of goddamn paedophiles. You don't want the paedophiles to get us, do you, Ice?' She kicked the ball to Ice, but he froze and it went past him.

‘Well … No. But you shouldn't be using words like that, Marie Claire. It's naughty.'

‘They're naughty people, Ice. You have to look out for them. But I've got nothing to worry about
because you're here and you're an angel. No paedophile would dare come near an angel.'

Ice looked at her, bewildered. That goddamn Rat had bewildered Ice and we'd only just met him!

‘My mother used to say that to me all the time. “You're an angel,” she'd tell me. “And you're not just
my
angel.”'

‘Well, that's what you are, Ice.'

Ice frowned like he was thinking of the past.

‘Can you get the ball, Ice?' said the Rat.

Ice looked behind him and walked off to get the ball.

‘He won't want to be our friend if you bewilder him like that!'

‘He already is our friend,' said the Rat. ‘He's our very own Iceman.' Ice kicked the ball and she caught it. ‘I think you'll be as big as Eminem one day, and so does
Rolling Stone
. And I quote, “Ice emerged from the decay of those decadent Chicago housing projects to produce a dynamic debut album. His distinct voice and vivacious lyrics could lead one to believe we are not only listening to the new prince of rap, but to its next king,” unquote.'

‘The next king of rap. What a joke that is.' Ice sat down on the grass and we sat next to him. ‘You
know, kids, rap has been described as modern-day poetry. But it's only poetry if it's well-written. Any electro beat will get the brothers pounding on the dance floor, but only words will be remembered. When I write a great line, I get nervous: it's like I'm holding a winning hand in a poker game. And when I write a great song, I can't sleep. I showed some of my best work to the record company. But they're only interested in gangster rap and the more people who get blown away the better. It was always my dream to become a great artist. To write words that move people like Langston Hughes!'

‘Hold fast to dreams, for if dreams die, life is a broken-winged bird that cannot fly.'

Ice looked impressed. ‘You like poetry, Bob?'

The jealous Rat folded her arms and frowned at me.

‘Some.'

‘Yeah, who's your favourite?'

Just then a black Range Rover blared its horn. Ice looked disappointed. ‘Oh I have to go, kids. But I enjoyed talking to you. And, like I say, I'm sorry about the other day.'

‘It's OK, Ice. Even angels get upset sometimes. And I won't accost you again. I promise. But if we see you
shall we say hello? Do you think that will be OK, Ice? As long as we don't accost you, I mean.'

‘Of course you can say hello. If fact you better say hello or there'll be trouble.'

The Rat smiled.

‘See you again, Marie Claire … Bob, why don't you walk me to my vehicle?' I walked Ice towards the jeep, but he stopped before we reached it. ‘Listen, Bob. I don't want to get involved, but sleeping rough like you're on the run is no good. Believe me, I did it myself when I was kid. You have to get help.'

‘Thanks, Ice. But we should be somewhere safe in the next day or so.'

‘That's no good, Bob. A kid can go missing in a minute. You have to get your sister somewhere safe. You hear me?'

‘Sure, Ice.'

‘OK then.' He held out his hand and I shook it. ‘Look after yourself, Bob.' He waved at the Rat and, jumping in the jeep, he drove away.

As soon as he was gone the Rat came running over. ‘He was concerned about us, right? I knew he would be! It's beeping brilliant, isn't it, Bob? We're friends with the Iceman! And I knew he'd be great! Isn't that what I said? I'm not saying I told you so, but I told you so …'

* * *

When we walked out on to the observation deck of the Empire State Building I saw a view I can only describe as magical. It was night time and we could see all of New York's boroughs, skyscrapers and buildings lit up by the lights from their own windows. We could see the lights burning bright on Broadway and the sky glowing above the downtown area. We could see cars, as small as ants, with their headlights on. They raced along the streets or headed over Manhattan's many bridges, most of which were lit up themselves.

We walked around so as to see as many views as possible, and then we stared up at the huge metal tower.

‘That's where King Kong fell from,' said the Rat.

‘You know King Kong's not real, right?' I said, talking to her like a two-year-old.

The Rat looked up at me. ‘Beep you, Bob!' Then she clasped hold of the metal bars that ran around the observation deck, and held them like an inmate. I did the same and we watched the night in silent wonder.

‘It's magical,' said the Rat. ‘No wonder the angels sit up high and the Great Spirit hovers in the sky. I think I used to be a bird in my previous life. Because in my dreams I have wings and when I beat them, I can fly.'

‘And now you're just a Rat.'

The Rat laughed. ‘And you're the Rat's brother.'

‘It's getting late. We should make a move.'

‘Shall we pass by the Waldorf Astoria, Bob? It's almost on the way.'

‘If you like.'

We went down in the elevator and crossing over to Park Avenue we strolled up to the Waldorf.

‘Shall we hang out, Bob? We might see some celebrities.'

‘We're not hanging around the Waldorf like a couple of waifs and strays. Now come on. It's almost midnight.' She followed me but she didn't look happy. ‘You met Ice today. What more do you want?'

‘Yeah, but what's the big deal about ten more minutes? Anyone would think you were scared!'

I got her in a headlock. ‘Another word out of you and I'll pull your goddamn head off!' But then a cop car came by and so I let her go. It passed us and then it stopped.

‘It's turning around, Bob.'

We came off Park Avenue, and scurrying down the steps of a basement apartment, we crouched low. It was quiet for a few seconds. And then we heard a car engine cruising towards us. A spotlight shone
overhead like a full moonbeam from a prison breakout. My heart started to pound. In my mind I could already see the cops capturing us and taking us away. But the beam slid silently along the wall and the cop car cruised away. ‘That was close!' said the Rat.

We scurried all the way to the beginning of the park. And then we headed into the park so the cops couldn't see us. It felt as spooky as a cemetery and the paths didn't go straight. They snaked around, taking us past the silent ponds and in between the dark trees that blocked out the moonlight. I felt uneasy. But I felt more uneasy when I saw a man sitting on a bench. He was wearing a woolly hat and what looked like a combat jacket.

‘What do you think?' I whispered. But the Rat didn't answer. Never a good sign.

He watched us as we passed and we watched him. Then we walked a little quicker, wanting to be away from him. But when I looked over my shoulder he was following us. I felt a sickening fear sink into my stomach.