How To Be a Boy (12 page)

Denny was ready to follow but I shook my head.

“You sure?”

“I know those two from school,” I said. I gestured at the plastic bag Denny was holding. “These kids I’ve never seen before.”

Denny tugged at the collar of his coat and hunched his shoulders, tutted. “We should go in, get them to hurry up. Tell them we’re getting cold here.”

I nodded. “Tell them we’re getting ready to rip them off for every damn penny they’ve got, and we can’t hang around all day to do it.”

Denny grinned. “Something like that.”

“Every damn penny,” I repeated, grinning his grin, trying to make him laugh.

I hadn’t really believed we were going to do this at first. I’d sort of said so. But I’d seen the look in Denny’s eyes and wasn’t going to have him call me chicken again. So I’d done everything he’d told me to. And I knew, just like Denny said, these poor suckers would never want to go swimming again.

Karras Street Pool is a square block of dirty concrete with square windows and square doors. They put trees and flowers around the outside and along the path to the gates, trying to hide how crap it looks. In primary school we were brought here once a week to learn how to swim, but that all stopped as soon as we moved up to George P. High. I reckoned if you hadn’t learned how not to drown by then, it was your own stupid fault. For lads like me and Denny, secondary school was all about sinking or swimming. We might not be any good at Maths or ever get to be top of the class for Science, but we knew we were a couple of the best swimmers around.

We watched as a gang of lads burst out through the pool’s double doors together. There were maybe about ten of them, all pushing and shoving against each other, swinging their bags, messing around and acting up. But there were two younger kids trailing behind who weren’t joining in. The big group came out through the gates onto Karras Street, headed for the bus shelter on the corner, still swinging their bags, trying to trip each other, bowling along. The two younger kids kept their distance, heads down, not talking, dragging their bags behind them up the path from the pool.

“That’s them,” Denny said.

“You sure?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Definitely. That blond one in the red coat? That’s the coat that was in the locker. I remember it.”

“OK,” I said, but waited for him to make the first move.

He grinned massively. “Look how pissed off they look. Come on, let’s go completely mess up their day.”

There was a gap in the traffic. We strode straight across the road. I stayed at Denny’s shoulder. I knew our leathers looked cool as they whipped around us. We hurried to catch the two kids before they made it out through the gates, wanted to cut them off before they could get to the others at the bus stop.

They saw us coming. I didn’t blame them for looking worried. Denny’s taller than me, and I was taller than them. Denny’s harder than me, and I reckoned I was harder than both of them put together. And I’m mean. But Denny’s so much damn meaner. If I’d been them, I would’ve run a mile.

Weird thing is, before Denny and me got together, I reckon I probably was them. Not so long back there were these lads at school who thought they were mean, used to think they could push me around, thought they were hard, funny, whatever. But when Denny moved to our school and we got to be mates, all those lads knew they’d better just leave me the hell alone. I wasn’t going to be pushed around any more. No damn way. Not with Denny there.

My brother still has a go at me every now and again. Tam’s got fists like cannonballs. I’ve never seen anyone stupid enough to stand up to him. I used to tell people he was my brother and most of the time it made them back off. But now me and Denny are best mates and I don’t need to say anything to anyone any more. Now I’m fourteen, I reckon even Tam’s going to have to admit how mean I am.

Denny and me made it to the gates first, stood side by side, blocked the way. Denny still held the plastic bag by his side. He grinned at the blond kid in the red jacket, but the kid didn’t smile back. His mate was a skinny little runt in glasses and a green cagoule. When he saw us, he stopped dead, half turned away, got ready to run if he needed to. And I got ready to grab him if he tried.

“Catch your death,” Denny said to the blond kid, who scowled at him. But Denny pointed at the kid’s wet hair. “That’s what my mum always says when I don’t dry my hair properly.”

“We don’t want trouble,” the kid in the glasses said. His lenses were spattered with rain.

“Who wants trouble?” I asked. “We’ve just got an offer for you, OK?”

The blond kid was cocky for his age. He looked us up and down. “Who d’you think you are in those coats?”

Denny raised an eyebrow, turned to me. “Big mouth for someone so short,” he said. “I used to be like that, you know. Real full of it. Used to think I was tough.”

“Yeah?” I asked. “So then what happened?”

“Some bigger kid came along and kicked the shit out of me.”

We both grinned at Blondie. His mate took a step backwards, a step away from us. That made us grin wider.

I checked over my shoulder, wanting to know what the other kids at the bus stop were doing. But the bus had just turned up and they were all piling on board. I saw Glasses watching them too. I reckoned he’d also noticed the people hurrying by on the road, noticed not one of them bothering to look our way, their heads down against the rain. The bus pulled away, disappeared around the corner. I shrugged at Glasses. He tugged on Blondie’s sleeve.

“Come on, let’s just go.”

“Don’t you want to hear this offer we’ve got?” Denny asked. “I bet it’s something you’re gonna be really interested in.” He held out the plastic bag he’d been carrying.

“We don’t want anything you’re…” Blondie began but shut up when he saw what Denny pulled out of the bag.

It was a smart little mobile. One of those that flipped open, sci-fi silver, looked expensive. The shock on Blondie’s face was a treat. He glanced quick at his mate. Glasses forgot his nerves and stepped closer to get a better look.

“What d’you reckon?” Denny asked. “Yours for fifteen quid.” He handed me the silver phone and took a smaller black one out of the bag. He scrunched the plastic bag up around the screwdriver that was still inside and shoved it into his pocket.

“Tell you what,” he said. “Do you a real deal: twenty-five for the pair.”

Glasses had dared to come even closer. He pointed at the silver mobile I was holding. “That’s… That’s mine.”

Denny acted confused. “Yours? Honest? You sure about that?”

“It’s my brother’s really. He let me borrow it.”

“And that one’s mine,” Blondie said, pointing at the black phone.

“How about that?” Denny said to me. “Reckon it’s damn lucky we found them.”

“Where’d you find them?” Glasses asked.

Blondie turned on him. “Are you stupid? They’re the ones who broke into our locker. They stole them, didn’t they?”

Denny held up his hands. “Hey there! Whoa! Hold your horses. That’s a hell of an accusation, you know?”

Blondie tried to burn holes into Denny with his glare. “You broke into our locker and stole our phones while we were in the pool, and now you want to sell them back to us.” He spat at our feet. “How low is that?”

I did a quick check over my shoulder. There were two older lads at the bus stop now, one in a denim jacket and the other in just a T-shirt even though the rain was getting heavier. But they were too far away to hear the blond kid mouthing off. He made me nervous. To get so tough so young he’d probably had to learn it from someone. Like Tam had inherited his cannonball fists from our dad. Like I knew I’d one day be as mean as Tam. But this kid could only be about eleven. If that.

I sometimes wondered who Denny got his meanness from, because he didn’t have any brothers and his dad wasn’t around any more. But he said his grandad was Italian, so liked to tell people he had Mafia blood in him. He watched old gangster movies called
The Godfather
and
Scarface
and
Goodfellas
over and over again. He knew bits of them off by heart. I reckoned he’d made himself mean on purpose.

Glasses said, “Can we just have them back? Please? My brother’s gonna go mad if I don’t give it back.”

Denny shrugged. “Twenty-five the pair. That’s the offer.”

Glasses’ face began to crumble behind those rain-spotted lenses. “I haven’t got any money.” Then, pleading, “Look, my brother’s really going to kill me…”

“What about you, Blondie?” Denny asked the other kid. “How much have you got?”

Blondie didn’t answer. Just scowled. But Glasses turned his pleading on him. “Yeah, come on, you’ve got enough to buy it back for me. Please, yeah? I’ll pay you back later. Please. Next week definitely.”

I almost felt sorry for him. But only for a second. Not even that long, probably.

I suddenly wanted to punch him. His squirming was embarrassing.

And Blondie didn’t answer him.

“Come on?” Glasses begged. “Come on? Yeah?”

Denny rubbed a hand over his wet hair. “Miserable day. All you’re doing is making me and Jake feel even more miserable.”

Blondie’s stare was pure venom. I thought he might actually try to go at us. He had his fists clenched and everything. And I was thinking, He wants so bad to be mean. But he was going to have to realize just how much meaner me and Denny were.

Denny hunched his shoulders against the rain, pulled his leather coat closed. “That’s it then, Jake. Can’t say we didn’t offer, right? Their choice, I suppose. Let’s go.”

But Blondie was digging in his pocket. He brought out a scrunched twenty pound note and gritted his teeth as he shoved it into Denny’s hand. I checked again over my shoulder to make sure no one was watching. The older kids at the bus stop might have been looking our way, but they didn’t seem bothered. And there was another bus just pulling up. None of the passers-by on the street could have cared less underneath their umbrellas.

Denny looked at the note. “I said twenty-five.”

“It’s all I’ve got.”

Denny looked to me. I shrugged, nodded. Denny gave Blondie his mobile. He didn’t say thank you, just shoved it in his coat pocket.

Glasses came towards me with his hand out, all eager now. His glasses were so spattered with rain he had to peek over the top of them to see anything. He was trying to smile but looked so scared. His fringe dripped water down his face. I suddenly hated him. I used to wear glasses until Denny said they made me look feeble, so I never put them on outside the house any more. This kid reminded me of how I used to be. And he was almost begging me now. He was the really feeble one. Really pathetic. I flipped the sci-fi silver phone open, snapped it in two, and shoved the keypad into his outstretched hand.

“That’s about twenty quid’s worth,” I told him.

His face… I wanted to take a picture. Denny thought it was the funniest damn thing he’d ever seen.

We walked away, didn’t run. We shouldered past the little kids, left them standing there in the puddles, and walked towards the pool building, letting our long leather coats catch the wind. I reckoned if they ever made a movie of us, they’d do this bit in slow-mo.

The car park around the back was almost empty. We were laughing by the time we got there. There’s a red fire-exit door tucked into an alcove along the pool’s back wall and we ducked into it to shelter from the rain. It was where the staff went to sneak a quick fag and there was a load of crushed butts on the wet ground.

“You’re mad,” Denny told me. “Snapping his phone. That was just mad. His face when you just gave him half.”

I grinned because I liked it when he called me and the things I did mad. I still had the other half of the silver mobile. I was going to keep it. Maybe I’d get it out one day and make Denny laugh and call me mad again.

“Twenty quid.” Denny uncrumpled the note then folded it into neat quarters. “Not bad. D’you reckon he had any more on him?”

“Maybe.” I thought of Blondie’s scowl and clenched fists. “Probably. But who cares? We can always get somebody else and get some more, right?”

Denny pulled the rusty screwdriver out of the plastic bag. “Yeah. Easy money.”

A voice said, “Careful where you wave that.”

We hadn’t heard them follow us. It was the two older lads from the bus stop. The one in the denim jacket had his shoulders hunched, his collar turned up, his hands in his jacket’s pockets and an unlit cigarette waggling between his lips. The one in the black T-shirt had a pizza face and his hair was a wet mop on his head, but he didn’t seem to even notice the cold and rain. His soaking T-shirt clung to his muscles.

“Saw what you did to those little kids,” Denim Jacket said. He had a sharp face, too many teeth, like a shark. “Saw you take their money.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Denny told him.

The two of them stepped closer. I tried to take a step back but I was right up against the red fire-exit door.

“What did you do?” Denim Jacket asked. “Threaten to stab them with your screwdriver?”

T-shirt took a knife out of the belt loop at the back of his jeans. A wicked silver blade. My belly went cold looking at it.

“Did you say, ‘Give us your money or we’ll stab you’?” Denim Jacket asked. He rolled the cigarette from one side of his mouth to the other. “Is that what you said to them, yeah?”

I thought of the runty kid with the glasses, because the knife’s blade was spotted with rain just like his lenses had been.

Denny was trying to act tough, trying to show he was mean too. He was gripping the screwdriver. “It’s got nothing to do with you,” he said.

Denim Jacket shrugged. “Maybe so, maybe not,” he said. “I like your coats. Do you like their coats?” he asked his mate. “Give me your coat,” he said to me.

I knew I was trapped. “What?”

T-shirt lunged at me, the blade slicing raindrops in half as he thrust it towards me. “He wants your coat.”

I jumped back, smacked my head hard against the door behind me. I was so scared it didn’t even hurt. I thought I was going to puke. “I can’t. It’s my brother’s.” I said it soft. I didn’t want to look at Denny. He’d know how scared I was and I didn’t want to see how he was looking at me. “My brother, he’ll… Tam Conners. This is his coat – Tam Conners’.”