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2
Six Years Ago
“Yo! What ya doin’?”
I turn around, my arms dropping to my side, my body stilling as I look at the boy standing behind me. He’s tall, like a foot bigger than I am, maybe even as tall as my older brother, David, who’s eighteen and towers over my Mum now. Apparently, I don’t have the tall gene. We’ll see.
Crossing my arms over my chest and breathing in deep, I look at the boy with dark hair and dark, dark eyes. They’re like the sky at night without any stars. If it weren’t for his amused smile that makes his lips pull up into a crooked grin, I might have been more wary of him.
“What’s it look like I’m doing? I’m dancing,” I retort, rolling my eyes.
Obviously.
A bead of sweat slides down my forehead and I swipe at it with the back of my hand. I wonder how long this kid has been standing there watching me. My skin heats. I don’t dance in front of anyone, and the only reason I’m here in this playground is because no one on my estate uses it. The place is a fucking dump.
“Yeah?” he winks, sitting down on the rusty swing in front of me, that smile getting broader. He has really white, straight teeth, except for one which has a chip in it. There’s a little piece of his front tooth missing, and I find myself wondering how he did it.
“I haven’t seen you around here before,” I state, giving him a once over as I cock my hip, planting my hand there. He’s wearing beat-up, black Nike trainers and grey baggy joggers with his boxer short strap showing above the waistband, and a white t-shirt rolled up at the arms making his skin look tan against it. He’s kinda cute, but I’m not really interested in boys. Especially not ones who spend their time hanging out on street corners and causing trouble for the rest of the people living on the estate. Boys like my brother, David, who wears a cross around his neck like he’s one of God’s disciples even though he belongs to the fucking Devil himself. I’ve never understood it. My mum’s a church going, religious nut, and pretends she’s holier than though when really she’s worse than those nuns you hear about beating the shit out of kids in orphanages.
“That’s because I just moved here a couple weeks ago. Just scoping the place out…” he looks around the playground, unimpressed. “So, this isshit.”
The curse word rolls off his tongue with ease. I mean, I’m not shocked or anything. Everyone swears around here. I swear too, but mostly under my breath or in my head because my mum would give me a slap if she caught me. Not that she needs an excuse to hit me, she does it often enough without reason.
“Likereallyshit,” he emphasises.
“Yep,” I agree, popping the p.
He’s right, this playgroundisshit. There’s one swing, which he’s sitting on, a rusty see-saw and a slide that’s seen better days. The frame is covered in graffiti that isn’t proper graffiti, just a bunch of cuss words and images of dicks and tits. Totally unoriginal and nothing like the graffiti by Bling and Asia that’s dotted around Hackney. Those arerealworks of art.
“Did someone set a moped on fire?” he asks, jerking his chin towards the pile of rubble just over the other side of the iron fence surrounding the playground.
“Couple weekends ago. Stolen.”By my brother.Though I don’t say that part out loud. What’s worse than someone who snitches? Someone who’s blood and snitches. I keep my mouth shut. Telling on David would be a death sentence. A literal one. I have no doubt that my older brother is a certifiable psychopath.
“Figures.” He rolls his eyes, jaded by the environment just as much as I am.
“None of the kids who live on this estate ever come here,” I explain, untying my long brown hair and shaking it out a little. I’m not sure why I decide to take it down, maybe it’s because Mum says it’s my best asset with a face as plain as mine. It’s the only backhanded compliment she’s ever given me. She doesn’t think I’m pretty.Idon’t think I’m pretty. I push that thought away. “Most of them hang out on street corners, smoking weed.”
“Yeah, noticed that. So you come here to practice your dance moves?” He gives me a once over and I feel suddenly shy at his ogling. I don’t think he’s being creepy, just interested. I checked him out, he’s checking me out. I guess we’re even now.
“Where else am I supposed to dance?” It’s not like we’ve got any room at home. I share a bedroom with my little sister, Lena. She’s eight, annoying, and takes up all the room with her dolls.
“I know somewhere… Want me to show you?”
I bark out a laugh, almost doubling over. “You gonna offer me a sweet next in exchange for a blowjob?”
“What?! Fuck no!” he splutters, dragging his heels over the ground so that he’s no longer swaying, but still.
“So you’re not some weirdo, preying on young girls then?” I ask, folding my arms across my chest and trying to look all badass when inside I’m giggling like a freak because I made him so uncomfortable. He’s not a weirdo, I can tell.
“No. Iswear…” he scrapes a hand through his thick, dark hair and grins when I burst out laughing. “I’m just making friends, and I dance like you. Thought we could hang out.” He shrugs.
“Show me…” I challenge him. I wasn’t born yesterday. He might not be a pedo, but he still might have an ulterior motive. I’ve not met one person around here who hasn’t. “Prove to me you’re not a pedo.”
“Fuck, man. I’mnota pedo. I’m fifteen. Besides, you’re not really my type.”
“I don’t hook up with boys,” I say haughtily. Thou shalt not covet dangerous boys with chipped teeth and black, black eyes. Nope, definitely not.
“Fair enough. How old are you anyway?” he asks, getting to his feet. I have to look up to meet his gaze. This kid is tall for fifteen, and broad. By the looks of his arm muscles, he can probably throw a wicked punch too. He’s not quite as filled out as my brother, David, or as scrawny as some of the guys on this estate, he’s kinda in between. His face is the same… in between. Like, he’s not really a kid but not really an adult either.
