I didn’t see Jason for a couple of days. I did have to fend off the other people I’d sold phones to though. No one was happy about having to pay extra but I managed to get out of it pretty easily. The problem was that everyone found out about the dodgy phones which meant that I was having serious trouble selling anything else. All my usual customers were keeping well away. Every time I saw Dilip, he just ignored me and whispered stuff to his mates. I was like a leper. Kids were avoiding me in the corridor and pointing at me when I walked past but it wasn’t all to do with the phones. Eventually Hannah told me that she’d overheard some of the lads in our class talking about me.
‘They said that Jason is after your blood,’ she said, looking worried.
I tried to shrug it off. ‘He’s always after me or Jit – nothing new there, sister.’
‘This is serious, Dean. Those lads were laughing and talking about how Jason has been spreading it around that he’s going to batter you.’
I still hadn’t asked Gussie for help and I wondered whether I should. Only, I knew that I’d get called a grass if I did. People would think that I couldn’t take care of myself and the other bullies in school would start to pick on me too. At least that’s what I thought. I decided that it would all blow over anyway. I hadn’t seen Jason so he couldn’t have been that bothered, I said to myself. I was wrong about that too, though.
‘You’re nuts,’ Hannah told me.
‘Let him come,’ I said, trying to act all hard. ‘He don’t bother me.’
She shook her head.
‘One of these days,’ she replied, ‘you’re going to get yourself into something that you can’t talk your way out of.’
I grinned. ‘Never. I could talk my way out of anything . . . Besides, them bullies want you to be scared of ’em. They don’t like it when you aren’t.’
‘I still don’t understand why he’s after you though,’ said Hannah, as Grace walked up.
‘Who’s after who?’ she asked.
‘Jason. He’s telling people that he’s going to beat Dean up.’
‘Do you want me to knee him where it hurts?’ asked Grace, jokingly.
‘I wish that would help,’ I admitted.
‘So, why is he after you?’ asked Hannah.
‘Nuttin’ really – just some stuff about a phone that don’t work.’
I told them the whole story. After I’d finished, Grace shook her head at me.
‘You aren’t supposed to do that at school anyway,’ she told me.
‘Who cares?’ I replied.
‘Dean! Jason is a nasty piece of work,’ she told me.
‘Yeah,’ added Hannah. ‘I don’t want my favourite boy getting beaten up over something so silly.’
‘Easy,’ I replied, grinning. ‘So now I’m your favourite boy?’
‘You know what I mean,’ said Hannah. ‘Stop being a fool.’
‘But what about Jit?’ I continued. ‘He’ll be jealous.’
‘See what I mean?’ said Hannah, looking angry. ‘Stupid boy!’
‘Silly, macho, too-much-testosterone-in-your-pants, smelly, rabbit-poo-eating boy,’ added Grace.
‘Take a breath, Sister Gee,’ I told her. ‘You’ll do yourself some damage.’
They told me to get lost and walked off. I just stood and shook my head. Girls are some funny things.
Jit wasn’t around when I caught the bus home and I spent the journey wondering where he had got to. As the bus turned down Evington Road, I watched a group of kids make their way downstairs. My stop was further up the road, just before the bus headed into the city centre. I decided to go to the shops though. It was beginning to rain as I got off, jumping past Marco and Milorad.
‘Watch it!’ said Marco.
‘Sorry, bro,’ I replied, skidding on the wet pavement and colliding with Misha and one of her friends.
‘Stupid knob!’ shouted her mate, but Misha just stood and grinned at me.
‘Hey, Misha – what you doin?’ I asked, stupidly.
‘Whaddya think I’m doin?’ she replied, still smiling.
‘Goin’ home?’
‘That’s what I usually do after school.’
‘Oh right. So, like, what are you . . .’ I began again, not really knowing what I was going to say.
‘This bwoi stupid, y’know,’ said Misha’s mate.
‘No I ain’t,’ I said.
The girl held her hand in my face, just like my sister does, and turned her head away.
‘Fool!’ she said.
‘Did you wanna ask me something, Dean?’ said Misha.
I did. I wanted her phone number but my stomach knotted up and I couldn’t think of anything to say. Nothing clever anyway.
‘Er . . .’
‘See?’ said her friend. ‘Stupid bwoi can’t even talk properly.’
They walked off giggling and left me standing in the rain with my ego seriously bruised. I was the lyrics officer, and I couldn’t even ask the girl for her digits. I needed to have a serious chat with myself.
I didn’t feel bad for too long though. I crossed the road, running around the cars that were held up in a traffic jam and walked into an off-licence.
‘Twenty B&H,’ I said to the man behind the counter, as a joke.
‘You know you ain’t old enough,’ said the bloke, whose name was Hardev.
‘OK – you got me, bro. I’ll just take a gallon of vodka and ten cigars.’
Hardev smiled and shook his head. ‘You gonna buy anything, Dean?’
I nodded. ‘Yeah, man. Just you looked kinda bored so I thought I’d come cheer you up,’ I said.
‘Buy the shop and let me go live on a beach somewhere,’ replied Hardev, who had gone to school with my brother.
‘How much you want? I got one pound and twenty-three old English pennies in me hand,’ I told him.
He grinned again.
‘Get out of it, you likkle raas!’
I picked up a bar of chocolate and gave him the right money.
‘What kind of way is that to treat your best customer?’ I said.
‘I’ll give you the back of my hand in a minute,’ said Hardev, as I walked out the door.
The chocolate went down in two mouthfuls and as I crossed East Park Road, I decided that I wanted another one. There was a twenty-four hour shop further up the road and I walked in, past a couple of fit student girls, and headed for the sweet aisle. As I turned into it though I came face to face with the dog’s backside that was Jason Patel’s face.
‘Who we got here then?’ he said, smiling.
I didn’t stop to think. I grabbed a handful of chocolates and shoved them in his face, pushing him into a display. He went flying and as I ran out, the guy behind the counter swore in an African language and went mad. I took a right down the side of the shop and sprinted away. Behind me, I heard Jason swearing and realized that he was on my tail. I ducked left into a second side street and raced to the end, where it joined St Stephen’s Road. Jason was still behind me as I ran across the main road and on into Guilford Street, where I could have ducked left and towards my own house.
Instead, like a complete moron, I went the other way and found myself being closed on by a really angry-looking Jason. He was calling me all kinds of names and people were stopping to watch what was going on, not a single one of them doing anything to help me. Then I saw a little kid, about three, right in my path. He was only a few metres away and I couldn’t stop. I would have knocked him down. Instead, I picked him up and then came to a stop. Behind us his mother shouted after me from the front door of their house. I turned and ran back with the kid, who was grinning at me, and handed him over. I mumbled sorry and then I heard Jason hit a wheelie-bin. I turned and ran on, beginning to laugh to myself like a mad man, even though I was bricking it.
I sprinted down another road with big tall Victorian houses on both sides and on past the entrance to a synagogue. I had to stop and catch my breath a bit then, and when I turned I could see Jason, still coming after me and holding some kind of stick in his hands. I set off again, down College Street which is really narrow and has these alleyways on both sides. I ran past a blonde girl walking a fat Rottweiller, not stopping even though she had smiled at me, and then I turned into Prebend Street where I nearly knocked over a policeman.
‘Hold on, mate!’ said the copper, grabbing me by the jacket.
‘Lemme go!’
‘Calm down . . . What are you running away from?’ he said, all suspicious.
I pushed his hands away and caught my breath.
‘Someone’s after me,’ I said. ‘With a stick.’ I pointed round the corner and the policeman went to have a look.
‘No one here, mate,’ he told me.
‘But he was right behind me,’ I said, walking back round the corner.
The street was empty except for the blonde girl who was trying to drag her dog behind her, and she was up near the top of the road.
‘No one at all,’ said the policeman.
‘Must have seen you and done a runner,’ I said.
‘Would you like to make a report?’ he asked but I shook my head.
‘Right, well try and be more careful next time – you could have hurt me,’ he said.
I looked at him like he was mad.
‘Ain’t that your job?’ I asked. ‘Anything to protect the tax-paying public?’
He gave me a really dirty look in return.
‘Gotta be off,’ I said. ‘Me mum’s made bacon sandwiches for tea.’ And I ran off before he had the chance to grab my jacket again.
By the time I got in I was soaked and I’d decided that enough was enough. It was time to tell my brother that I needed his help. I walked into the living room expecting to see Gussie lying around on his fat bum as usual. He wasn’t in though. My sister was sitting where he normally sat, watching the telly and talking to a friend on the phone at the same time.
‘Ooh yeah,’ she said, into the handset.
‘You see Gussie?’ I asked.
She gave me a dirty look, covered the mouthpiece with her hand and told me that she was trying to have a conversation.
‘Just tell me where Gussie is,’ I replied.
‘He’s out . . . what am I – his mum?’ she said before turning up the telly and chatting into her phone. Girls . . .