by Ricky Black
‘L?’
Lamont jerked out of his reverie.
‘Are you high? Why are you acting all spaced out?’
‘I’ve just got some things on my mind. Do you know a dude called Leon?’
‘Leon who? What’s his surname?’
‘I’m not sure. He’s about eighteen, nineteen. Hangs around that park near Chapel Allerton. He’s kinda light skinned, and he’s got a bullethead.’
Shorty thought about it. ‘The name ain’t ringing a bell. Why though? Is he troubling you?’
Lamont didn’t reply. He hadn’t asked Shorty because he wanted Leon hurt. He’d hoped he knew Leon and could talk to him.
‘Is he?’
Lamont sighed again. ‘He hasn’t put his hands on me or anything. He doesn’t like me being around his girl, and he’s threatened me before.’
Shorty’s eyes darkened as they analysed Lamont. They had stuck together since the age of five, where they were two of only a handful of ethnic children at their Primary school. By the look Shorty gave him, Lamont knew how this would turn out. It never took much to set off Shorty.
‘Where do you see this guy again?’ Shorty’s voice was even, but Lamont wasn’t convinced.
‘Chapel Allerton Park, near my school. He’s always there with his crew.’
‘How many of them?’
‘Four or five usually.’
Shorty scratched his chin, his nostrils flaring. He nodded his head as if internally agreeing to something.
‘When do you go back to school again?’
‘Next week Wednesday,’ Lamont replied. Shorty nodded again.
‘Cool.’
Lamont left school next Wednesday, not surprised to see Shorty and another local goon. His name was Kieron, but everyone called him K-Bar. K-Bar was dark-skinned and bony, with thin shoulder length dreadlocks and dead eyes. He was Shorty’s crime partner and though more doleful than Shorty; he didn’t need any excuse to cause trouble.
‘L, c’mere,’ Shorty called out. Looking left and right, Lamont hurried across the road.
‘What are you lot doing up here?’
Shorty laughed. ‘We’re gonna handle your problem. Come.’
Falling in step, Lamont followed Shorty and K-Bar towards the park.
Leon and his cronies sat in their usual spot, laughing and telling jokes. There were a few girls lingering around. Scanning their faces, Lamont saw none were Erica. Recognising Lamont, Leon scowled.
‘What are you looking at?’
Shorty cut his eyes to Lamont, ‘Is he the one?’
Lamont nodded.
‘Oi! I’m talking to you! Erica’s not here to look after you now!’
Shorty rubbed his nose. ‘I’ll deal with this.’
Without missing a beat, he entered the park and walked right up to Leon. Sensing trouble, Leon’s boys closed ranks, causing Lamont and K-Bar to stand at either side of Shorty, ready to back him up.
‘Who are you?’ Leon didn’t like Shorty eyeballing him.
‘You need to back off my boy. If I hear that you or any of these dickheads have been troubling him, I’ll deal with you myself.’
Leon stood. He towered over Shorty, but the younger man didn’t flinch.
‘I don’t think you know who you’re dealing with.’
‘No. I don’t think you know who you’re dealing with. L is off limits to you and your crew,’ Shorty’s voice was calm but he was definitely ready for war. Lamont knew the signs. He had seen Shorty in action before. He took a step back to give him space.
‘Listen, little man, dig up before I get mad. Take that tramp there with you. If I catch him around Erica again, I’ll fuck him up,’ said Leon.
That was enough.
Before Leon could react, Shorty levelled him with two swift hits, knocking him into the swing. The girls screamed and ran. Leon’s friends waded in, but K-Bar pulled a knife, causing them to freeze.
‘Back up. It’s one-on-one, or I’m cutting everyone,’ K-Bar’s voice had enough conviction to cause the group to step back.
Leon was up now. He looked dazed, but the hits had hurt his pride more than anything. He charged Shorty, who saw the move coming and planted his feet into the ground. Grabbing Leon in a front headlock, he brought his knee up, catching Leon in the face. Bringing his elbow down on Leon’s spine, Shorty let go, allowing the older boy to crumple to the ground.
‘That all you’ve got?’ Shorty taunted, panting slightly. When Leon tried to rise, Shorty brought his foot back and kicked him in the head. Leon fell back and didn’t move. Standing over him, Shorty looked to Leon’s friends, frozen with fear at the sight of Shorty’s calculated assault on their leader. Without him they were powerless.
‘Yo, when Mr Untouchable here wakes up, tell him to stay away from L. I’m warning you all once. Find someone else to touch, or we’re coming back with more weapons.’
Shorty walked away. K-Bar followed him without a word. Lamont snuck a glance at Leon’s friends, then he trailed Shorty and K-Bar.
‘I don’t think he’ll be troubling you anymore, L.’
It had been less than an hour since the fight. The three of them were standing in the Hood drinking bottles of Lilt and enjoying the sun.
Shorty was all smiles after beating Leon. Lamont had seen this reaction from his friend before. Violence didn’t make Lamont happy. He wasn’t ungrateful though. Shorty had beaten up Leon for bullying him. Shorty and Marcus were alike in that way; they cared for little, but protected anyone in their circle. Lamont was lucky to have friends like them.
‘Yeah. I think you put a stop to that.’
Shorty drained his bottle and threw it into the street. ‘Dudes like him run their mouths because they’ve got people around them. Hit them a couple times, they crumble like he did.’
Lamont wasn’t listening. His eyes were on the bottle that Shorty had thrown.
‘Pick that up, man.’
Shorty was talking to K-Bar now. He evidently hadn’t heard what Lamont had said.
‘Shorty.’
Shorty turned.
‘What?’
‘That bottle. Pick it up and put it in the bin, man. It’s right next to it.’
‘What?’ Shorty frowned.
‘We have to look after our streets. It doesn’t hurt to put it in the bin.’
‘Is he serious?’ Shorty cut his eyes to K-Bar, who shrugged For a second, Shorty grilled Lamont, then burst into laughter and went to get the bottle.
‘You’re a funny guy, L. People are becoming millionaires selling poison, and you’re quibbling over a Lilt bottle.’
‘Doesn’t matter. It begins with us. We need to look out for our community,’ Lamont replied.
‘Whatever you say, Malcolm-X. Come on, let’s go get a ball and play footy.’
Lamont had maths with Erica the next day, but she looked like she had been crying, and did her best to avoid him. It stung, but Lamont expected it. Leon was everything to Erica, and the word was already out about the beating Shorty had given him.
Lamont had PE as the last lesson of the day. When he exited the changing rooms afterward, swinging his tattered sports bag, Erica waited.
‘Afternoon.’ Lamont knew she wouldn’t speak first.
‘That’s all you have to say to me?’
‘About what?’
‘You and your psycho friends beat up Leon! You should see his face!’
‘I won’t talk to you if you’re going to act like this,’ Lamont said calmly, seeing his crush in a whole new light. The fact she had stuck by Leon after he verbally abused Lamont had been a turning point. Their friendship would never be the same.
‘How am I supposed to react? Was that really the best way to handle it?’ Erica lowered her voice, but people walking by were still looking at the pair.
‘We just wanted to talk. He wanted to act the big man in front of his boys and those girls, so my friend called him out.’
‘One of your friends had a knife!’ Eric
a hissed. Her expression changed. ‘What girls?’
‘That’s for you two to discuss. He was a prick to me for no reason, so if you want to analyse anything, analyse that.’
‘He’s my boyfriend!’
‘So what!’ Lamont bellowed. ‘So what if he’s your boyfriend? Are you gonna be with him forever? No! It’s a silly, schoolgirl relationship and you know it, so grow up.’
Erica gaped at Lamont as if she had never seen him before. He seemed to radiate an aura. A power resonated, and it was unnerving to see the meek, quirky boy who walked her home, evolve before her eyes.
‘He was asking for what he got. I don’t feel sorry about it. Hopefully, he’ll watch his mouth now.’
‘L, what happened to you? When did you stop being nice?’ Erica asked softly.
‘The second I realised that nice guys get crushed by pretty girls like you. I’ll see you around.’ With that, Lamont strolled past Erica, leaving her openmouthed.
When Lamont arrived home, Marika was watching TV. She had changed out of her uniform and was devouring cereal like she hadn’t eaten in days. Lamont kissed her on the cheek, put his bags down and took his coat off.
‘Where’s Auntie?’
‘Out. She said you’d make me dinner,’ Marika said, with her mouth full of Coco Pops.
‘Okay. I’ll make it in about ten minutes.’
‘No! I’m hungry now! Why do you think I’m eating cereal?’ Marika shouted.
Lamont stood in front of the TV and looked at her. Marika opened her mouth to say something clever, but stopped herself. The fiery look in her brother’s eyes scared her. His jaw was clenched tight, his gaze unflinching. Something was different about Lamont, and Marika didn’t want to make the wrong move.
Chapter Five
Friday 21 March 1997
Lamont followed Marcus as he knocked on Mia’s door. She answered, giving Lamont a double take when she noticed him. His hair was trimmed, and he wore a new sports jacket with a pair of jeans and some trainers.
‘Wow, you look different, L,’ she said, her mouth open. Marcus nudged her.
‘Let us in then. I’ve got liquor.’ Marcus held up the bottle of brandy. Mia led them into the living room. Rochelle again sat on the sofa, this time reading a book. She acknowledged Marcus and Lamont with a nod.
‘Get some cups,’ Marcus ordered Mia, who hurried to obey. ‘Shelly, what’s happening, darling?’
‘Nothing, Marcus. Just chilling.’
‘Cool. What you reading?’
Rochelle held up the book. It was To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee; one of Lamont’s favourites.
‘Never read it. Any good? You know who else is a big reader?’ Marcus didn’t even wait for Rochelle to answer his first question.
‘Who?’
Lamont’s stomach lurched.
‘My boy L here. He loves reading, I swear. His room at home is just full of books. Isn’t it?’ Marcus elbowed him.
Lamont wanted to strangle Marcus. He knew that action wouldn’t end well though, so instead, he nodded.
‘Yeah. I like to read. I’ve got a copy of that at home. I love it,’ he mumbled.
‘Really?’ Rochelle sounded sceptical.
‘Yeah. When I was younger, I . . .’ Lamont broke off. He had been about to launch into a story about his parents.
‘Spit it out then,’ Marcus said, not realising.
‘Leave him, Marcus,’ Rochelle said. She met Lamont’s eyes for a moment, then Mia entered with three glasses.
‘What are you doing?’ Marcus said, his voice rising.
‘What do you mean?’
‘There’s four of us. Go get another fucking glass,’ he barked.
‘Marcus, you need to watch the way you talk to my sister,’ Rochelle said.
Marcus scowled. ‘What are you on about?’
‘You know what I’m on about. If she’s your girl, talk to her properly, not like she’s any chick off the streets.’
‘Why don’t you chill out and go back to your fucking book? This is nothing to do with you.’
‘You’re in our house, so I think you’ll find it has a lot to do with me. Talk to her properly, or leave.’
Mia’s timely arrival stopped Marcus from retorting again.
‘Come on baby, let’s go upstairs. We’ll take the drinks with us.’
Marcus fumed, but allowed himself to be led upstairs, taking the bottle of brandy.
‘You need some better friends,’ Rochelle remarked when the door closed. She picked up her book.
‘Marcus is family.’
‘Marcus is a fool. He has good qualities, but he’s got no manners. He talks to my sister like shit, and I won’t accept that.’
‘That’s fair enough. Marcus is family though, like I said, and I don’t want you badmouthing him around me.’
Rochelle raised an eyebrow.
‘Well, look who grew a backbone while they were away. Guess you got over that whole stuttering thing from last time.’
‘Guess I did,’ said Lamont, smirking.
‘That’s good. I like the confidence. Just remember one thing, Lamont.’
‘I’m listening, Shelly.’
‘Good. First, it takes more than some new clothes and a haircut to get me. Remember that. Don’t call me Shelly either.’
‘You let Marcus call you Shelly . . .’
‘If I told Marcus to stop, he’d probably call me it more. That’s his mentality. What I’m trying to work out is if it’s yours too.’ Rochelle looked at Lamont again. There was none of the hostility she had shown last time, and this spurred him on. He stared back, entranced by the way her long dark hair fell over her face; the pronounced curves of her body in the sweatpants and tank-top. Rochelle was extraordinary. It was more than looks though. There was something about her assertive attitude that he liked.
‘Marcus is Marcus. I’m me.’
‘Yeah and who are you?’ challenged Rochelle.
‘I told you; I’m me.’
‘I need more than that. You and Marcus live together, right?’ Rochelle began.
‘Yeah.’
‘Mia said you both live with some relative of yours. Is that true?’
‘Yeah.’
‘And you go to the same school?’
‘Marcus dropped out last year.’
‘I see.’
‘I might join him.’ It was the first time Lamont had admitted that to anyone.
‘Why?’ Rochelle shot him a sharp look.
‘Why what?’
‘Why would you want to drop out?’
‘I need to make money,’ Lamont said, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.
‘And you don’t think that staying in school a few more months and completing your education will lead to a better job?’
‘There’s no guarantee of that.’
‘Oh, so you want easy, street money then?’
‘I didn’t say that. I’ll take whatever money I can,’ Lamont corrected.
Rochelle shook her head. ‘There was me thinking you had more principles.’
‘You know nothing about my life, so don’t you dare pass judgement on me for wanting something right now.’ Lamont was breathing hard now, incensed at Rochelle’s comment.
‘Slow your roll. I’m not passing judgement on you. I’m entitled to my opinion, which is that you’re an idiot if you even think about leaving school.’
‘Okay, what are you doing that’s so special?’
‘I work in an office in town.’
‘What are you working towards?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Look at you; there’s no way you’re going to be just working in an office forever. So what is it? What are you working towards?’ asked Lamont.
Rochelle blinked, surprised by Lamont’s perceptiveness.
‘I want to be a teacher.’
‘Makes sense, what with that little speech you just gave me about education. Primary or high school?’
<
br /> ‘Primary. I don’t think I could handle teenagers.’
‘If you can handle Marcus, you can handle some cheeky teenagers,’ Lamont joked. They both laughed. Hers was a melodic throaty sound that made Lamont think of serene nights, laid on the grass, staring at the stars in the sky. It was so easy talking to Rochelle; no more nerve-wracking than talking to Erica.
Rochelle was older and more assured, but she was still a girl. Lamont no longer felt daunted.
‘Thanks. I guess. Can I ask you something?’ Rochelle started.
‘Yeah, go for it.’
‘You were going to say something earlier about this book.’ She pointed at To Kill a Mockingbird. Lamont’s stomach lurched again.
‘Yeah. I was.’
‘What were you going to say?’
‘I used to read it with my mum and dad,’ Lamont admitted.
‘What happened to them?’
‘They died. In a car crash.’ Lamont’s words were hollow. He remembered the screech of tyres, then the darkness. Lamont had woken to a pain that never dissipated. He rubbed his chin, feeling the familiar scar.
‘Oh my God. I’m so sorry to hear that.’ Rochelle’s hand went to her mouth.
‘When I was younger, my parents were always trying to get me to read, but I couldn’t concentrate. One day, my mum put that same book in front of me and offered me a pound if I read the first three chapters.’
‘Did you?’
‘By the time I got to chapter three, I’d forgotten to ask for the money. That story made me love reading. I’ve never looked back.’
Rochelle beamed. ‘That’s sweet. I feel sorry for people that don’t read. Music and books are two of God’s greatest inventions.’
‘You’re not wrong.’
‘Lamont?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Don’t leave school. Okay?’
Lamont said nothing. He was woefully inexperienced with girls, but even he was sharp enough to realise that with the story he had just told Rochelle, the dynamics of their conversation had changed.
‘I know it’s hard. But just promise me you won’t. You’re so close to the end. I hear what you’re saying about the money, but education is important.’