The next day, after dropping off a bowl of Amma’s palak paneer at Auntie Simrat’s house, I decide to take a stroll past Haji Mian & Sons to check out the damage from yesterday. Turns out the petrol attack was worse than Dad let on. A lot worse. Temporary repair film clings to a mosaic of fractured glass. An ugly board has been nailed over a second window, and the third set of roller shutters are completely blistered. Yellow and black graffiti streaks across them, screaming outdated racist BS. I want to cover it up with a nice mural. One of Dad smiling, surrounded by the freshest produce, glistening with dewdrops.

I’m about to go in and ask him when something catches my eye. My breath comes out in a low whistle. Hidden within the offensive swirls is a pair of gleaming yellow eyes. The thugs’ tag boy, whoever he was, had obviously just started to leave the gang’s calling card before either being stopped or remembering to keep things on the down-low. A mistake so small, nobody would notice it. Nobody that is except for another tag boy.

With a sigh, I go inside to find Dad checking out the extent of the damage.

‘Dad, the graffiti outside … it wasn’t a racist attack. It was DX Dingoes.’

Dad hushes me quickly, then leads me into the back room. ‘Look, you can’t say this stuff out loud or I’ll end up with a whole bunch of resignations on my hands.’

‘Dad, are you mad at Shaista?’

‘Course I am. Thanks to her, I’ll forever be looking over my shoulder, worried that Zaman’s crew might try to hurt one of you.’

‘She doesn’t know he’s a legit gangsta.’

He sighs, then nods. ‘Guess I should blame myself really. Sometimes you see one of your own struggling, and you feel sorry for ’em. I gave Zaman a chance, believing his lies about putting Dingoes behind him. More fool me, eh? Can’t invite the Devil into your house and not expect to get burned.’

‘Can’t we tell the cops?’

He shakes his head sadly. ‘You watch the news. If the Old Bill can’t stop kids from stabbing each other, how are they going to handle an organization as big as DX Dingoes? Nah, mate. Best we can do is live our lives on the quiet.’

Back at home, I’m researching climate change for a geography assignment when I start thinking about the current climate in my house. Greenhouse gases swirl around in my belly, bringing a soup of guilt and remorse to the boil, till I finally grab my art pad and stare at the picture I drew earlier. Shais’s favourite Disney princess, Aurora, stares back with an apologetic finger in her mouth and the word ‘SORRY!’ printed above.

Swallowing my pride, I rip the page out and begin scrawling on the back.

Shais,

I’m sorry for destroying your life. Tbh I think you’re kind of cool OK. Not everyone has a YouTuber for a sister, right? Me telling Dad about Zaman was never about the money. I was trying to protect you from a lying supposedly ex-gangsta who wanted to get you in trouble.

You might not be nice to me all that much, or ever really, but you deserve a proper Bollywood hero.

Ilyas

Now comes the hard part. With lumbering steps, I head to her room like a very reluctant postman. The familiar sound of her telling-it-like-it-is to her thousands of fans drifts towards me. I wait a minute but she’s in full flow, so I tuck the letter under her door and head back.