Fat Boy Swim Read Online Free PDF

in Jimmy’s hand over the first one. Taken from the same angle, the tumbledown was still there but Jimmy could hardly see it for people. Dozens of them, mainly children of all ages, laughed and pointed at the camera. They had long brown sinewy limbs, huge glittery eyes,
huger
glittery smiles. GI Joe was in the middle of the group hunkered level with two skinny boys whose arms snaked around his neck. He was laughing too.
    ‘That’s why, Jim. That big girl there; Martha. She’s bright. Needs school.
    ‘There’s Wee Joe in the Glasgow cap – I’m Big Joe. Won’t speak. Dad hacked to death. Machete. Wee Joe witnessed it. That baby. Beautiful, yeah? John. Hardly cries. Dumped outside my door one night. Animal could’ve got him.
    ‘Ima, with the smile. She takes care of him. They’re all orphans, these kids. Most parents died of AIDS
. . .
’
    Jimmy was happy enough to let GI Joe ramble on while he rehydrated. But he couldn’t figure what a dump in the middle of nowhere had to do with him. Unless Mum had stuck his name down for the Missions behind his back.
    He listened while GI Joe explained how the hut – ‘falling down round our ears’ – functioned as a schoolroom, dining room, church, town hall. Medical centre once a month if the doctor made it.
    ‘I mean, look at the place. We’ve nothing, Jim. That’s not right, is it? If you met my kids, you’d give them the moon
. . .
’
    GI Joe wiped sweat from his forehead, thumped his fists on his knees. Clenching. Unclenching. He breathed deeply, sucking air through his nostrils as if he needed to calm down.
    Chill out, man, thought Jimmy watching a congoline of perspiration dance the vein in GI’s temple.
    ‘So you’re here to raise money for charity?’ He thought he’d better say something before GI’s head exploded.
    ‘No, I’m not after charity, Jim. Hate that word!’ spat GI Joe, with a glare that glued Jimmy’s wet back into the wood of the bench. ‘Every kid,
every
kid, deserves a decent childhood. By right. Health. Education. Nutrition. Love. By right. Nothing to do with race. Nothing to do with religion. A child deserves the chance to build on the talents it’s been born with, not bury them.’
    GI Joe snatched his photographs, shoved them in his backpack and yomped from the park.
    ‘Food for thought, Jim,’ he hurled over his shoulder at the park gates.
    What was he on about? Psycho priest. Jimmy exhaled through his teeth, mildly irritated. Dragging me all the way out here for nothing. I’ll bake for him if that’ll get him off my back. What else could he want
me
to do?
    Inside the nearest bus shelter, Jimmy cooled his forehead against its metal wall. There was no one else waiting for a bus. Only Jimmy, and a voice in his head that wouldn’t shut up.
    Coach was talking about you as well as those kids,
it said.

Chapter 7
    Keeping cool
    ‘You told me you’d hay fever. I come up to see the invalid and find out he’s away with that dude at St Jude’s. What does he want, Jim?’
    ‘Who? GI Joe?’
    The faintest flicker of a smile crossed Aunt Pol’s face. ‘That’s what you call him?’
    ‘He takes us for football,’ Jimmy explained.
    ‘He’s signing you for Scotland?’
    Jimmy shrugged. ‘Wants me to bake, I think.’
    ‘And of course, you’ll say yes. Smart, Jim.’
    Jimmy
was
smarting. Hated when Aunt Pol gave him grief.
    ‘He showed me pictures. Lives out in the middle of nowhere. South Africa.’
    ‘Looking for a cook, is he?’
    ‘Think he wants me to do that here,’ said Jimmy sheepishly. ‘To raise money. He wants a new building for the kids he looks after.’
    ‘Jim. You’re a softie.’
    Aunt Pol was mellowing.
    ‘What do I keep saying? You don’t have to agree to things
. . .
’
    ‘
. . .
just because people expect you to,’ Jimmy chimed.
    It was one of Aunt Pol’s top ten catchphrases.
    And it always made her laugh when Jimmy finished it for her.
    ‘Well,’ she rapped Jimmy gently in the temples,