Water Born Read Online Free PDF Page B

I’ve never seen before. He reaches for the door handle and yanks it open.
    â€˜No, Dad! No!’
    He’s out and round the front of the car in a flash. He doesn’t go for the either of the guys that shot us – he grabs their victim. He gets hold of his T-shirt at the back of his neck, except it’s not just T-shirt. You can tell from the kid’s face that he’s scrunching up flesh in his big, tight, angry fist, too.
    â€˜Dad, stop it!’
    He lifts the boy off his feet with one hand. The other two are watching, open-mouthed. Their water blasters are down by their sides now.
    â€˜What the hell were you doing? This is a road, with cars on it! You shouldn’t . . .’
    He’s shouting into the face of the victim. He turns him round so that the kid can see the road. His face looms above mine as I sit in the car. His features are distorted with pain and fear.
    â€˜Dad, he didn’t even do anything!’ I shout. ‘Put him down, for God’s sake.’
    Dad ignores me. I open the car door and clamber out. Ireach up and put my hands under the boy’s armpits, trying to take some of his weight.
    Dad bellows at me, ‘Get off him. I’m dealing with this!’
    â€˜No, Dad, you get off him. He didn’t even shoot us. He hasn’t done anything.’
    Tears are starting to leak out of the corners of the boy’s eyes. A new dark patch is growing at the front of his shorts and a trickle runs down his legs. He’s wet himself.
    â€˜Dad, please, you’re scaring me . . .’
    â€˜Put him down.’
    I turn towards the voice.
    It’s one of the gunmen. He may only be twelve, but his voice is steady and powerful – he means business, and his water blaster isn’t hanging limply at his side any more. It’s pointing straight at Dad. In the next garden the other boy is raising his blaster too.
    â€˜Dad . . .’
    Dad looks round now and sees what I see.
    I so want Dad to put the little guy down and get in the car and leave. I realise I’m holding my breath.
    He hitches his victim a little higher into the air, out of my grasp. The boy squeaks.
    â€˜You pathetic little tossers. Do you really think you can threaten me . . . with water pistols?’
    The world stands still for half a second, and then . . . they let him have it with both barrels. They aim for his face, and as the water cannons into him he swears and lets go of the boy, who plummets to the ground and lands in a crumpled heap. Dad brings his hands up to his face to try and protect himself.
    We pile into the car. The engine’s still running, and we’re off and out of range in a few seconds.
    We’re quiet until we get back to ours. Dad turns the engine off and we both just sit, in our soggy clothes on the soggy car seats, staring straight ahead.
    â€˜It was in my eyes,’ he says. ‘The water was in my eyes.’ He scrubs at his face with the hem of his T-shirt.
    â€˜It’s okay, Dad. It’s only water. It’s gone now.’
    â€˜The mess in here,’ he says, eventually.
    â€˜It’ll dry.’
    He pulls the keys out of the ignition and holds them awkwardly in his hand, the edge of the key cutting into his palm.
    â€˜Dad,’ I say, ‘what just happened then? What’s going on?’
    â€˜They shouldn’t be messing with water like that. Don’t they know there’s a hosepipe ban?’
    â€˜I know. But they’re just kids. They were just having fun.’
    â€˜Fun,’ he says.
    â€˜Messing about with water. Didn’t you ever do that when you were a kid?’
    He turns to look at me. I think he’s going to say something, but the words don’t come. For the longest time, he just looks, and I feel like he’s struggling with something, but I’ve no idea what it is and in the end it’s too painful to watch.
    â€˜Let’s go inside,’ I