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Eastern arches an eyebrow at me, then shakes his head. “Totally not interested. I’m pretty happy with my own, slightly less colourful rainbow.”
“Pretty happy?” I pout.
He gently fingers my lip ring. “Very happy.”
“That’s alright then,” I respond, internally cursing myself for being a hypocrite. Here’s me warning him off my gay friend, and I’m entertaining the idea of not one but three boy…friends.
“I’m not sure about that Kate though, seemed a little stuck up to me,” he continues, oblivious to my inner turmoil.
“She’s not what you think. She might act differently to what you’re used to, but I’m telling you she’s straight up one of the nicest people I’ve met. Clever too. She rinsed her previous school’s accounts by breaking into their computer system and had a good old splurge. Pretty sure she’s the kind of criminal that’ll end up working for the MI5 or something.”
“She did that? Mind… blown,” he says making that brain exploding gesture with his hands.
“I know, right? Trouble is, I think she’s had her fair share of shit at that posh school she went to before Oceanside. We’ve yet to have that conversation, but I’m betting that there’s more to her story than she’s letting on. Pretty sure she’s been to hell and back.”
“I’m guessing you’re going to help her out somehow.”
“Maybe? Though I’m not sure I can do much but teach her to fight.”
“I never imagined you to be the type to help the waifs and strays of this world.” Eastern grins to let me know he’s only joking. “But somehow you’re doing just that.”
“Hey, I’m not a complete fucking bitch. Besides, they had my back. Iowethem.”
“I get it. I’m grateful to them, but you don’towefriends anything. That isn’t how it works, Asia. True friends give without expecting anything in return. Are they your true friends?”
I consider his question. Can I say that they are? I’ve only known them a few months and aside from a few chats, it’s never really got that deep. I mean I don’t know much about their lives, and they know very little about mine. Still, they befriended me when they could’ve easily turned me away, and they looked out for me with all the Monk shit. So, yeah, I’d say we’re true friends, albeit new ones. “Yeah, they are,” I eventually say.
“Well, that’s all I need to know. Any friend of yours is a friend of mine.”
Knowing that makes my heart sing. Let’s just hope he takes news of Ford and Sonny the same way. Yeah… that might be pushing it a bit.
“So, wanna spill about those jackarses I met too? What were their names Sunny and Fort?” he asks, knowing full well they’re names are Sonny and Ford. My cheeks heat, my heart stutters, and my palms turn clammy. I’m so not ready for this. Not just because they kissed me, and I kissed them back, but for everything I know to be true about them both.
“Well, they’re…”
“Oh, young man. Would you mind moving your feet so I can sit down? I’m feeling a bit wobbly on these tired old legs of mine,” an old lady says, cutting me off and effectively saving my bacon.
“Sure,” Eastern grumbles giving me a ‘for fuck sake’ look. I can only grimace in response, trying to hide the relief I feel. He’s not normally an arse to the older generation, but he wants every second of the time we’ve got today to ourselves. This lady looks like she’d like a good natter.
“Thank you,” she responds, easing into the seat opposite mine. “You two make a mighty fine couple, anyone ever tell you that? When I was your age I met my husband, Bertie…”
And that’s how, for the rest of the train ride, we’re forced to listen to Mabel ramble on about her late husband Bertie, her latest great-grandchild and how she’s spent the last two weeks knitting her a cardigan with little bees on it. She even gets it out to show me. It’s pretty cute. I’ve always liked bees. Right now, I like Mabel even more.
* * *
An hour later,we find ourselves on the seafront at Hastings right by the funfair. It’s a Sunday so despite it only being just after 1pm, it’s already full of thrill-seekers, harassed parents and obnoxious teenagers. It’s a pretty overcast day, so the lights on the rides have been switched on, illuminating the place and making it look magical. It’s kind of depressing seeing as we can’t go inside. Lack of money is a real arsehole. I can smell popcorn, candyfloss and sizzling burgers, all of it making my stomach growl and my heart yearn to step through the wrought iron gates and join in on the fun.
“Asia….” Eastern is staring at me with a devious look on his face. I know that look. It means trouble.
“What?” I ask him, adjusting my backpack into a more comfortable position on my shoulder. There’s not much in it. Apart from a few new clothes, a swimsuit my foster parent Libby brought for me for Christmas and a sweet little teddy bear from my brothers, it doesn’t weigh much. I’m literally carrying all my worldly goods on my back like some tortoise whose home is his shell.
“You know you want to…” he says, wiggling his eyebrows.
“You know I want towhat? Stop giving me that look, you heard what Tracy said. No trouble.”
“This isn’t trouble, this is fun! Besides, I have money.” He shoves his hand into his pockets and pulls out a wad of notes. There must at least one hundred quid in his hand.
“Woah, where did that come from?” I eye him and the money suspiciously. I’m not sure how I feel about him using his drug running money to pay for anything, even if I really, really want to go into the funfair.
