He's After Me

Chapter EIGHTEEN



It was totally awesome up on the roof of Wharfside. You could see for miles.

Jem helped me climb up there via neighbouring buildings, up and up till we reached the top. It was easier than I thought. It was so high up I was too scared to look down at first. But after a while I got used to it. I wouldn’t hang over the edge to write on the wall though. I hung on to Jem’s legs for grim death while he did it instead.

When he’d told me what he’d written, I was crying laughing. He’d sprayed The Bitch and Her Keeper above their massive front window.

After that it becomes a bit of a habit. An addiction. I start to need a regular fix. It’s the adrenalin rush, the playing with fire, never knowing if you’re going to get caught. Jem combines graffiti with free-running. He is ace at it, leaping, vaulting, pushing against walls with his feet, propelling himself up them. He’s like a cat, strong and supple, and makes it look so easy. I’m useless compared to him.

We spend more and more nights together, tagging around the town. By the time I meet up with Jem after he’s finished work, there’s hardly a soul about. No one knows what I’m up to.

Mum thinks I’m revising in my room. When she takes herself off for her early nights in her lonely bed, I’m hard at it, swotting for my exams.

I wish! I can’t remember when I last did any work for college. I can’t seem to settle to anything. Since I started tagging, I feel like I’m in a permanent state of heightened alert. Plus I’m knackered because I’m out half the night.

Livi knows I go AWOL once Mum is safely tucked up in bed, but she thinks I’m nipping out to be with Jem. Which I am, only not in the way she presumes. And she’s never going to split on me. Because she idolizes Jem. Plus, I cover up for her all the time. She’s still hanging out with the wrong crowd, acting like a little tramp and pining for that little rat, Ferret.

Idiot! I blame my dad for her bad taste in men. I mean, what sort of male role model has she got to aspire to? It’s lucky Jem’s around to show her not all men are shits.

Jem and I have become more and more creative. We used to just leave our tag. Then we got clever with stencils and did some nice quick designs of sharks with their jaws open wide. We got into the local paper with those. It was surprising how many people actually liked them, especially the ones on the wall of the council swimming pool.

But lately we’ve been leaving messages, ever since we wrote on the wall of Dad’s apartment. It takes more time, obviously, but it’s worth it for the buzz. Jem is brilliant at thinking up phrases. Once he wrote Not in use on the front of a bus. I nearly died laughing, thinking how many times I’d been caught out like that.

Last week he wrote No alcohol on the front door of his hotel. Then we climbed over the gate into the railway station and I wrote No waiting on the waiting room, which was risky because it’s CCTVed, but that’s what gives you the thrill.

The next night we went out again and inscribed Private, Keep Out! all over the front of the posh girls’ school on the outskirts of town. We nearly got caught that night by a stupid caretaker and we had to run for our lives through the bushes. I was scratched to bits. It was such a high. We ended up going back to Jem’s and tearing each other’s clothes off. It turns you on when you think you’re about to get caught but you get away with it.

Tonight we are heading into town. To be honest, I’m not really in the mood.

Yesterday Dad had let drop that he was away next week in New York with The Bitch.

‘Supposed to be a business trip,’ he’d said, looking very pleased with himself. ‘But actually, Jude’s looking forward to doing some early Christmas shopping in Times Square.’

Smug, smarmy swine.

‘I can’t afford to do Christmas shopping in Lidl!’ said Mum bitterly.

I was so mad at him.

When I told Jem he’d curled his lip and said, ‘All right for some. That’s why lawyers charge such high fees. Because their girlfriends are such high maintenance.’

Then today, Zoe asked me to go to the cinema with her and I was thrilled because I thought she’d been avoiding me, so I said yes without thinking and she looked chuffed to bits. Then Jem called me and he was really moody and said he had something special planned for us and in the end I gave in. Zoe was furious …

Jem won’t tell me what he’s got in mind. He likes keeping me in suspense.

‘This is where my dad’s office is,’ I say when we get off the all-night bus and head round the corner.

Jem treats me to his lopsided grin.

‘Oh, no!’ The penny drops. ‘Not again!’

After we’d sprayed the front wall of Dad’s flat, I’d spent days petrified he’d work out it was us.

‘Why would he?’ said Jem. He was right, of course. We never heard a thing about it.

Jem can be pretty persistent when he wants to be. He’s like a dog with a bone. When he’s got his teeth into something, he won’t give it up. ‘First his flat,’ he says. ‘Then his workplace. Maybe this time he’ll get the message.’

‘No way!’

‘Come on, Anna.’ Jem’s eyes flash with sudden anger. ‘He deserves it. So does she. Look how they treated you girls and your mum. You can’t expect to treat people like shit and get away with it.’

I bite my lip. He had a point. ‘OK. But nothing personal, right?’

‘Right.’

Tonight I stand and watch as he sprays paint in large letters on the front door of Williams & Barnes. I’ve got to admit, he’s got a way with words. I can’t help laughing as the message appears.

Lawyers suck … you dry

I add our tag with a flourish, making the W on JAWS just a tad more vicious-looking than normal.

‘OY! What the hell do you think you are doing?’

A torch beams straight into my eyes and I nearly jump out of my skin. Behind it I can just make out the bald head and bright-green day-glo jacket of a security guard. I stand there trapped in the glare like a rabbit caught in headlights.

From behind me there’s a sudden movement and something shoots straight past me at high speed like a bullet from a gun. The guy roars and falls to his knees, holding his face in his hands. There’s blood everywhere. I scream.

Then Jem grabs my hand and we’re running, running, running. Only this time, nobody’s laughing.





Silly bitch. Screaming enough to waken the dead.

Must’ve thought they’d killed the guy.

You need to toughen up a bit, sunshine.

Get real.