Robert and Wesley were talking to some of their friends about the latest fantasy novel that they were reading. It was one of a series of books – The Dark Lord of Hazelwitch stories – and they had magicians and goblins and stuff in them. Exactly the sort of book that I hated.
‘The ancient Flute of Kings has been taken by Bloodlehart the Great,’ Robert was saying as we walked up. I swear he was making it up though. I mean, the names were just stupid and why did all fantasy books have to have magic stones and flutes in them?
‘And Princess Wondlebarn is going to have to travel back in time, to before her own birth, to save the people of Hazelwitch . . .’ added Wesley as their mates stood and listened.
‘But what about Gerafaggan, the Dark Lord?’ asked Sailesh Kotecha, one of the nerd posse.
‘He’s takin’ a break, my man,’ interrupted Dean. ‘He got bored of being evil and that, so he’s doing voluntary work with the goblins.’
For a minute I thought that Sailesh had fallen for it, but he hadn’t. Instead he tried to diss Dean.
‘At least I read,’ he said. ‘I bet you’ve never even read a book from start to finish.’
Dean looked at Sailesh like he was shocked and then he looked at me with a grin.
‘Read this one book,’ he replied, acting serious. ‘’Bout how this likkle rat-faced bwoi got his head mash up by me.’
Sailesh went red and looked down at his feet.
‘You want me to finish that book?’ asked Dean, only he didn’t wait for Sailesh to answer. Instead he smiled at Robert and handed him some games.
‘Tek a look at them, my fantasy-reading brother . . . pure warlock business, you get me? An’ cheap too . . .’
Robert looked at both of us over his glasses, like we were insects or something, and then he took a look at the games.
‘WOW!’ he said suddenly, pulling one out and showing it to Wesley.
‘EXCELLENT!’ agreed Wesley.
‘Spiffing, what?’ I said, taking the mickey.
‘Four pounds, bro,’ said Dean. ‘Cheapus Maximus!’
‘I’ll take it,’ said Robert, smiling, and I wondered exactly how many Hazelwitch books there were. In the end I just asked him, as he was getting his dough out.
‘Oh, there’s seven so far, but that doesn’t include the prequels and the two sequels that the author is writing at the same time.’
‘You what?’ I asked.
‘There are going to be two follow-up books,’ he said slowly.
I looked at him and this red haze started forming in front of my eyes. I thought he was making fun of me and I felt myself getting mad. Then, just as suddenly, I calmed down again. I would have hit him otherwise.
‘I know what sequel means,’ I replied. ‘But how can there be two, together?’
Wesley took over. ‘The author is writing two alternate sequels and you can choose which one suits your own taste.’
I thought about it for a minute.
‘But if there’s two sequels, with two different endings, then the next book ain’t gonna make sense . . . the author’s gonna have to write another two,’ I pointed out.
Wesley grinned like he’d just been snogged by some Hollywood star.
‘Exactly . . . and then two more and two more and . . .’
‘And the whole world is gonna be full up of stupid books about the Dutty Backside of Ganglefart,’ said Dean.
Wesley looked at Dean, went bright red, mumbled something about being late for lessons, and walked off. Robert looked at me and then followed his friend, as the rest of the nerd crew dispersed. I asked Dean what we had next.
‘Maths,’ said Dean. ‘Why?’
‘I don’t think I’m gonna bother,’ I said.
‘Forget that, bro . . . you’ll just get into trouble. What’s up, anyway? Things getting funny at home again?’ he asked.
‘NO!’ I shouted.
‘Easy, Jit . . . ain’t no need to . . .’ he began, only I didn’t wait around to listen.
Instead I walked off in the direction of the main doors and walked out into the rain, my head beginning to hurt. I walked round to the side of the school and into the outdoor toilets, locking myself in a cubicle. It took me a few minutes to stop feeling angry and then I started to feel stupid for shouting at my best mate and walking off. But I wouldn’t have done it if he hadn’t asked me about what was going on at home. It was stressful enough without having to chat about it. Then I remembered how Dean had let me stay at his the last time, and the way his mum had sorted stuff out. I started to get angry again, this time with myself and with Micky. My head was hurting even more and I kicked at the door a few times . . .
Later on I felt all right and I found Dean and Grace in the dinner hall. They were eating and talking about Suky and Imtiaz. When I walked up, Dean just nodded at me and then told me to sit down.
‘Easy, bro,’ he said, raising his eyebrows.
‘Easy,’ I replied.
Grace looked at us and then began to ask a question, but I jumped in.
‘So what’s new with the Suky an’ Imi show?’ I asked.
‘Well . . .’ began Grace, forgetting what she had been about to say. ‘They’re still being really secretive about it all. Everyone knows that they’re together but they aren’t telling us anything.’
‘I can understand that,’ said Dean.
‘So can I,’ I added, although me and Dean had different reasons.
I thought it was to do with Suky being Sikh and Imi being Muslim, but Dean told Grace that the only reason they weren’t saying anything was because Grace and Hannah had big gobs.
‘That’s not true, smelly bum,’ replied Grace.
‘Yeah it is,’ continued Dean. ‘You two are like the Scum and the Mirror combined, only you gossip more than even them papers!’
Grace looked at me and pouted.
‘Will you back me up, Jit?’ she asked. ‘You don’t think I’m a gossip, do you?’
I looked at Dean and I wanted to agree with him but I didn’t want Grace to get upset, so I just shrugged and said nothing. Which upset her anyway.
‘Fat arse,’ she said, getting up and walking off with her tray.
‘Grace!’ I shouted after her but she just turned and stuck her tongue out at me.
‘Let her go, bro,’ Dean told me, then he grinned. ‘One of these days you an’ me is gonna go over the rules when it comes to the ladies.’
‘What?’ I asked.
‘You’re actin’ like she’s really upset but she’s just playin’ yer, you get me?’
‘No she ain’t,’ I told him.
Dean shrugged.
‘I dunno why you and her don’t just get together, bruv. It’s obvious that you like her.’
I looked over at Grace, who was standing chatting to Hannah. Then I turned back to Dean.
‘No I don’t,’ I told him, which was a lie. I did like her but I wasn’t sure that she liked me, and I didn’t want to mess up by asking her. Besides, she wouldn’t want me anyway.
‘Whatever,’ replied Dean, in a high-pitched voice, pretending to be a girl. ‘Don’t be coming cryin’ to me when it all hits the fan, girlfriend.’
I looked around us, embarrassed, but no one was listening. ‘You’re a weirdo, bro,’ I told him.
Dean grinned. ‘Look who’s talking,’ he said.
After school, I had to go home. I asked Grace what she was doing but she had a birthday party to go to. I thought about going round to Dean’s or calling for Hannah but they were both busy too. I walked into the living room, which was still a complete mess, and realized that my mum was out. I sat down on the sofa and turned on the TV, hoping that she’d gone for the night. But I couldn’t relax. Everywhere I looked there were empty beer cans and ashtrays and stuff. And the place stank. I got up and went into the kitchen, shaking my head at the pile of dishes in and around the sink, grabbed a bin bag and went back into the living room. It took me nearly two hours to clear up everything, including the dishes, and when I was done I was so tired that I fell asleep on the sofa.
It was gone ten when I woke up. My stomach was rumbling and my head hurt. I looked around and saw that my mum hadn’t come home. There was no food in either so I decided to go down to the chippie for the third time that week. I had homework to do for the next day but I decided that it could wait. I was hungry.