Being Allister Bird

And dream of Freedom

Home means different things to everybody. To Jimmy , it means a cosy and comfortable country house with his grandparents. To Rowan , home meant family and fun memories. But to me , home meant fear. It meant fights on the gravel pavements leading up to the estate. It meant a lift that constantly smelt of piss. It meant knife crime being high , and the smell of weed drifting into my room at all hours. Home , to put it lightly , was hell. It wasn't always like this. Once , I had a nice house. I had flowers in the garden , a family dog , a working radiator. But that's all gone now. All fifteen year old Lister has is this; a grey and grotesque block of flats that looked appalling and was clinically proven to have asbestos. West Court Quarters. A posh name for something straight out of 'Shameless'. The only good part of this hellscape was mum , and even she had seemed to drift away recently. I got it , though. She was working three underpaying jobs to fund her nursing course , but that meant I hardly saw her. I doubt she notice if I died.

"Hay , baby!" Mum grins as I unlock our grimy apartment door. "How's the drumming going?" Mum mimes drumsticks hitting our kitchen table , the light in her blue eyes unmistakable. "Good , thanks! How's work?" I ask with a warm smile , praying with crossed fingers that she doesn't have to rush off yet again. But from the look of things , it's gonna be another Lister Bird Lonely Night. Mum's work bag was laid out roughly at the foot of the door , and her worksbadge hung down from her soft neck , covering the tatty cleaning clothes she had been instructed to wear. Tatty , I realized , like everything in this room. Curtin's , stained in mildrew and ripped to shreds by the previous owner. A sofa , broken on one end and littered with countless holes on the other. Our TV and laptop were long gone , taken by the bill collectors hellhounds who also turned off our electricity and heat. It didn't really matter in the autumn , but now that Winter's here the cold is particularly aggressive. I get it , though. It was either the electricity or food , and mum knew which we had to live without. "I'm so sorry , Allister. But I'm off tomorrow , yeah? We can order Chinese and.." She glances at the empty white wall where our TV once stood "Read books by candlelight. Just like the Victorians use to do" Her smile is infectious , and I can't help but smile back. "Right" I say , but its not right at all. People shouldn't be expected to live without the bare essentials in 2012. Not when the rich are inventing space travel and new technology and shit. It just doesn't seem fair. But who are we to debate the lives of the rich and famous? "I'll be back around midnight , Ally. No wild parties this time" Mum scolds me , her blue eyes steely and fierce. That was my mum , fabulous and fierce. Those wild eyes had first made an appearance two months ago , when I'd got bored one lonely night and invited practically the whole school around for a party. There was alcohol and cigarettes everywhere , and the smell of marijuana didn't leave the sofa for days. Everyone I knew came , and they all decided to invite plus one's that I'd never met. Adults who knew how to party , and kids from schools all across the county , St. Johns and West Cathedral and Higgs and Turham. Mum had come home just past midnight , and caught me kissing a extremely drunk girl with hoop earrings and purple hair. Mum flashed her steely talons at the party and everyone quickly dispersed. Then she looked at me and I expected anger. Yelling. Punishments. But all I got was a sigh , and a sorrowful look in her eyes. And that was worse then any argument. I promised her that day I wouldn't hold any more parties whilst she was gone ,and only Jimmy and Rowen could come round. No straight girls. Not until I was at least sixteen. She told me she couldn't handle being a Grandma at thirty three. So I agreed. Because , despite everything , I loved her. I really , truly did. Louise Bird , fierce and fabulous.

If I can help it , I try not to leave my room in the evenings. I order in the cheapest food and sit with my homework propped up at my feet. I watch Youtube on the iphone Jimmy bought me for Christmas. I stare at the blank wall and wish for death. But I do not go downstairs. But tonight , well tonight I was restless. Mum had gone and the wifi in the building was down and the four walls of my bedroom encroached upon me like a prison cell. So I grabbed my keys off the kitchen counter and began my decent down the second floor corridor. The corridor isn't as grossly grimy as it sometimes was , but the evidence of a late night fight , blood on the the red carpets and a smashed bottle lining the floor , still gave my heart a jolt of anxiety. I wonder then if they understood , the boys. If they got just how bad this place was when I described it , as they sleep in their warm bed and relax in the knowledge nobody will force their door open in the night. Jimmy, and his idyllic childhood with his Grandparents. Rowan , and the holidays abroad he jetted off to every year. And me , with the blood stained floorboards and fear of fights every damn day. They could never come round. No matter what mum said. They could never know who I really am.

The light was flickering in the hallway as I push open the main door , its scratched green paint decayed after years of neglect. Like me , I guess. "Ya alright , Bird?" Proclaims a voice , a man's voice , slurred and rough. Michael Lavenel. He ran this estate , with his fists of concreate and fifty pounds of pain. Someone like me , weak and malnourished , he could squash in a second. But he doesn't , and I doubted he ever would. For whatever reason , Michael took a shine to me. If I'm honest , I was quite glad I'd become one of his chosen few. Michael reminded me too much of the type of boys who once beat up my elderly neighbour as he stepped out of his front door back when I lived in West London as a kid , and I didn't really believe I was any match for him if his lot decided to do the same to me. But as of now , we're even , me and Michael Lavenel. He scrunches up his face and frowns at me. "God kid , you need fatting up. What are they feeding you at that school?" I smile back , but don't say a word. Its what I'm not being fed at home is the problem. Michael takes another drag from his cigarette , and offers it to me. I try to subliminally tell him I didn't like to smoke , but you don't decline an offer by Michael Lavenel. That's how you end up in a hospital bed. So I take it , and imminently start hacking out the remnants of my insides the second the smoke hits my lungs. "That don't" I cough out , my words barely reaching past my lips "Taste like cigarettes" Michael chuckles , and takes it back off me. "Nah man , its weed. Surprised a kid like you hasn't been offered any at school" I stare at him distrustfully , trying to work out just what he meant by that. What type of kid did I look like? One who would takes drugs on a daily basis? "Not really. There's this girl at school I hang round with who does that kind of stuff but.." I trail off , because Michael's chubby pale face has suddenly morphed into one of utter glee. "A girl? You two fucked yet?" I reply with another hacking cough , but this time its due to that utterly unexpected question. "Oh my God no" I laugh , trying with all my might to ease the redness that was practically glowing off my cheeks. "No! Me and Daisy are just friends. That's all" Michael grins at me , but leaves it at that. I knew he knew , though. How I felt about her. We kissed , once , and she told me she'd rather kiss somebody more experienced , not a scrawny little kid. I told her I'd kissed loads of people , but of course she'd never believed me. Kids like me bullshitted everything. Kids who pretended to live in big mansions to avoid bullies. Kids who bullshitted for more food because they weren't getting fed enough at home. Kids who pretended like hell like they weren't falling in love with their best friend. But Michael keeps on smiling , because he thinks he knows. Of course he does. Because what would I have to lie about?

When I get back to my room , I find the door wedged open a little. Not too much , but just enough for someone to sneak though and steal everything. But the arseholes clearly broke into the wrong flat because what is there to steal in here? A drum kit and some English textbooks. A slice of cheese that's at least two weeks old? Better off robbing a rubbish bin. Once I finish all my homework for tomorrow I clamber into bed and grab my phone , edger to blot out the aggressively loud sex my next door neighbours decided tonight was a good night for. I reach for my headphones and click onto my favourite podcast 'Universe City' , a futuristic story set in a land of power and the struggle of freedom. I close my eyes and fall asleep dreaming of being free.