Southsiders Read Online Free PDF Page A

crushed his resistance. Picked it up and touched the screen to call home. It rang and rang and rang, like a mantra for the lonely.

In The Ghetto
    ––––––––
    B unking off school was nothing new for Jesse. He was an expert. Not that he needed to be. Without parents, he only had the teachers left to convince.
    He was finishing his cornflakes when the phone rang. 9:25 precisely. He supped the remaining milk from his bowl and picked up.
    “Hello,” a lady said at the other end of the line. “It’s Miss Betts from Preston Street Primary here.” She sounded bored. No doubt she’d spent her morning chasing up kids who hadn’t turned up, just like she always did.
    Jesse choked a little as one of the flakes caught on its way down.
    “Is that Mr Spalding?” Miss Betts asked.
    Her question helped him out. Allowed him to get away with the one syllable. “Aye.” He’d tried to get some depth into the word and was a little surprised by its tone, but it still didn’t sound much like a grown up.
    “Could you tell me what’s wrong with Jesse today?”
    “Pure dead with flu,” Jesse said. The accent was pretty good. All Glasgow, no mistake.
    “I’m sorry to hear that.” There was a ring of sarcasm in her tone, like she could smell the rat from all that distance away. “If he’s not going to be in tomorrow, please call to let me know, otherwise you’re wasting an awful lot of the admin time. We do have other, more important things to do in the office.”
    Jesse was about to answer when the phone went dead. He liked Miss Betts. She was always grumpy when she spoke to the teachers and always nice to the children. If she were a chocolate, she’d be a caramel. Hard at the beginning, but all soft and squidgy and warm when you got to work on it.
    Soon as that phone call was out of the way, Jesse relaxed and set to work.
    He sat on a stool at the window. It was horrible out there and he was glad that he hadn’t bothered with school. The snow that had fallen in the night had been turned into a grey sludge that piled itself up against the sides of the buildings and the gutters. Everyone was walking carefully to avoid the puddles and the most slippery sections.
    He focussed his binoculars on the hole-in-the wall across the way, just outside Tesco.
    Those who stopped to get cash went about it the same way. They put in their cards, pressed a few buttons, took their money and wandered off again. They all tried to hide their PIN numbers from view as they pressed the buttons, some of them with their hands and some by leaning right in, and mostly it probably worked. The thing was Jesse’s binoculars were strong enough for him to pick up some of the numbers from the ways the hands worked. It gave him the idea of stealing cards rather than cash, but it would have meant hanging around for days, taking photographs and having some kind of system. Besides, if they were getting out cash, they probably wouldn’t need more for ages and might not even use the same machine the next time. It was a definite no-go.
    There were also no-go types. Anyone strong enough to beat the crap from his body, or fit enough to catch him. Even if they couldn’t, they could probably scream for Scotland.
    That left the fat, the drunk and the elderly.
    The fat didn’t come along all that often. Maybe they just couldn’t manage the hill up the Bridges or just had to stay home all day waiting for family members to bring them food or hoist them onto the toilet.
    There weren’t too many drunks either, not during the day. Maybe if he waited till closing time, he’d have more chance, but he’d be nervous about going out when the pubs closed and didn’t fancy staying up that late.
    Which left the old folk.
    Jesse didn’t like the idea of robbing the elderly. Those he’d seen reminded him of his gran before she died. She’d seemed so frail and was always scared of everyone when she did venture out. Thing was, he needed the cash and he couldn’t see