Split by Muhammad Khan

Author:Muhammad Khan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pan Macmillan

Billie guides me over to the counter. ‘Can you ring it up while she’s wearing it, sort of thing? We’re late.’

The sales girl looks flustered than asks me to turn around so she can scan the barcode and remove the tag.

‘It might take me a year or two, but I’mma pay you back, B,’ I swear.

Billie hushes me, taking out a platinum credit card and promptly drops it twice.

‘You all right?’ I ask.

They nod but I can’t help noticing a sweaty sheen has formed over their upper lip and they keep blinking like a clockwork doll. The lady places my ripped dress in a bag and we walk out.

HONK! HONK! HONK!

The store alarms go off, security scanners lighting up like the emergency services in traffic. I nearly jump out of my skin as a large security guard saunters over.

‘Nothing to worry about!’ Billie says waving at him. ‘The lady at the till forgot to deactivate the tag is all.’ What the heck is Billie chatting about? She did deactivate it.

‘Come back in, please,’ the guard says in an intimidating baritone.

I’m about to do just that when Billie yanks my arm. ‘RUN!’ And with that, they make a mad dash out of the automatic doors. I’m frozen in bewilderment, trying to figure out what’s going on.

‘Oi!’ roars the security guard. One look at his furious face, his outstretched hand and I run for my life.

Billie’s waves to me from the top of the escalators, before shoving people aside as they scuttle down.

‘B!’ I call after them, slipping through the shoppers like butter through a knife. ‘What the hell? You paid for my dress, right? Let’s go back and clear this up.’

‘Can’t!’ Billie squeaks. ‘I stole the black one. I didn’t mean to. I just . . . I couldn’t buy it and I couldn’t say goodbye either.’

‘Oh, Billie!’ I glance behind and see the wide-shouldered security guard struggling to get through the shoppers thronging on the escalators.

‘Make for the toyshop over there!’ Billie says gesturing with a flick of their chin then sprints off.

‘What have you got me into?’ I cry. Threading through the tourists, my heels hammer the floor like mini pickaxes as I run. The security guard barrels after us. Elbowing a path for myself, I make it to the toyshop but Billie is nowhere to be seen. A yelp has me spinning round. The security guard is clutching Billie by the scruff of their neck, yelling at them. I bite my lip, shrinking back into the crowd. I could make tracks, save myself, get to the audition on time: after all I didn’t steal anything.

But just as I couldn’t leave Billie to the mercy of Imran’s gang, I can’t leave them now.

‘Hey, wait up!’ I call as the security guard is frogmarching Billie back to Fabulous Farah’s.

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