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We stare at each other for a moment. My lip twitches as I try not to grin stupidly. I feel like I’ve made a friend. That doesn’t happen too often for me. I like my own company, mostly. Trust isn’t something I give very easily, and you have to trust someone enough to be friends with them.
“So, do you wanna know where you can dance without needing a tetanus jab, Pen?” Zayn asks, tipping his head to the side as he stares at me. I like the way he says my name.
“Sure…” I mutter, gnawing on my lip. My heart pounds at the thought of having a place to dance without fear of being caught by one of the arsehole kids on my estate and having to defend my passion. “Where?”
“You know the boarded-up house on Jackson Street?”
“Yeah. I know it, that’s where the drug dealers hang out.” Zayn shuffles on his feet and gives me a look that I don’t like. Shit, that’s where he dances? I step back, shaking my head. “No way, I ain’t going there.”
“It’s not a big deal, Pen. We got the basement to use as we like… We’re there most nights, hanging out.”
“We?”
“Me and my dance crew.”
“You have a dance crew?”
“Yeah, we’ve been looking for a fifth member. Interested?”
I am interested, but there’s no way I’m getting involved with that shit. My brother’s well known by the crims running the place on Jackson Street. “No.”
“I swear, we ain’t involved in any of that gang shit. We just use the space to dance. That’s it.”
He looks sincere enough, but I know how things go around here. Whatever Zayn’s connection to that place is, it will bite him on the arse one day even if he’s not involved with them right now.
“Look, I ain’t stupid. Whatever agreement you have with theSkins, I don’t want no part of it.”
Zayn sighs. “I’ll lay it out for ya. Jeb is my uncle. He promised my mum he’d look out for me. That’s what he’s doing.”
“Jeb, theleaderof Skins is your uncle. Like hell-to-the-fuck, no.” I start walking away, all hopes of a new friendship and somewhere safe to dance disappearing with every step. Jeb is well known around here, not because he’s a good guy with good intentions, but because he’s an arsehole who fucks people over and sells drugs to kids.
“Wait!”
Stupidly, I do just that.
“I swear. We just use the place to dance…”
“And?”
“And that’s it.”
“Yeah, right.”
“It ain’t like that. Jeb’s blood.”
“Won’t stop him from being an arsehole.”I should know.
“Maybe not to the general population, but he’s cool with me. I swear.”
Shaking my head and rolling my eyes I give Zayn a long hard look. “For now, maybe.”
“So you won’t come?”
“No. Not now, not ever.”
Except, a month later I find myself at number fifteen Jackson Street, eating my words.
