My heart stopped dead in my chest.
It was Lockjaw, head of the Larkside Crew.
Straight away, I looked around and saw four, five, six of them, bopping towards the bowling alley. And I knew then that there would be no bowling for me and Jay that day. I didn’t know what Larkside mans were doing down Streatham sides, but I wasn’t about to hang around and find out. With all the beef that was going on, I couldn’t risk it, not after what had happened to Lightning and Spoonz.
I flipped up my hood.
“Come on, bro,” I muttered, my hands like steel on Jay’s shoulders. “Let’s get out of here.” Ignoring his squeals, I pushed him on to the bus that had just pulled up and marched him up the stairs to sit at the back. I looked out of the window to see whether they had followed us but I could see that the last of them were going into the bowling alley.
But I didn’t see Lockjaw. Had he seen me? Had he followed us on to the bus?
Seconds dragged like nails on a blackboard as I kept looking towards the bus stairs, expecting Lockjaw to come bounding up. But then the bus began to move and I sat back in the chair, relieved.
But I had to look out of the window one last time – and that was when I saw Lockjaw standing at the bus stop, staring right up at me, a hard, cold look in his eye, like he wanted to smoke me right then and there. He reached towards his back pocket and pulled something from it.
Instinctively I ducked down, pulling Jay with me.
But when I looked again through the back window, when the bus was a safe distance away, I saw Lockjaw’s empty hands swinging free.
“Sorry about that, Jay,” I muttered, closing my eyes. “Let’s go get some McDonald’s down our sides.”
I could feel everything closing in on me. How the hell was this beef with Larkside ever going to end?
Wrong Side Of The Tracks
MISHA
“Why don’t you invite your boyfriend Dwayne to a barbecue this weekend?” asked Mum, watching the weather forecast. “We could invite Auntie Loretta... oh, and Auntie Dionnex- and Uncle Sam – I owe them an invitation actually.”
I groaned, audibly for once. “Do we have to invite Uncle Sam, Mum? It’s just that he’s so... difficult.”
“Hey, young lady, watch it. That’s family you’re talking about.” She thought for a minute, then said, “Why don’t you ask Effie to come too? That way Dwayne won’t feel like he’s being put on the spot.”
I thought about that: Effie might be a good choice. She had met Dwayne before and liked him (well, she thought he was hot, anyway). And she knew how to charm adults, no doubt about that. Maybe her being there would make it easier for Dwayne....
But Dwayne wasn’t too keen on the idea of coming to my house and actually meeting my mum.
“What if she doesn’t like me?” he fretted. “I don’t get along with adults too tough, y’know. Anyway, how come your mum wants to meet me? Does she have to approve your boyfriends or something?”
I said nothing. How could I explain to Dwayne how my mum saw things? My business was her business. It wasn’t that Mum was a control freak, not exactly. Just that she had very specific ideas about what was best for me. She had had the same ideas ever since she had moved us out of Brixton. I was her only daughter and I was going to be a success, a high flyer. Everything – even my clothes, my hair, my school, my choice of friends – had to be in line with that vision. Everything had to be up to Mum’s standard. That’s how it had always been.
“Dwayne, this is something important to me and I want my mum to know about it. She trusts me and I wouldn’t like to betray that trust, you know? I feel bad enough that I’ve kept it quiet for this long.”
Dwayne shook his head, chuckling. “You lot are different, man. My mum doesn’t care about what I do – as long as I don’t come home with no baby. Down my sides, if you get with a girl, you get with her, not her and her grandad’s cousin. It ain’t none of their business, y’get me. But if this is important to you, babe, I’ll do it. You need me to be there, I’ll be there.”
I thought about the relief of not having to sneak around and hide any more and smiled. “My mum has good taste,” I said. “She’s going to love you, you’ll see.”
The week flew by and, before I knew it, it was Saturday, the Big Day.
I was so excited that I didn’t know what to do with myself: I tried my hair in four different styles, tried on three different outfits, reapplied my make-up twice. I looked at my reflection in the mirror – I was glowing. And looking kinda gorgeous too.
Finally, Mum became exasperated and called up the stairs. “Are we going to get any help around here or are you going to spend the whole day getting dolled up for your boyfriend?”
Then I calmed down and the enormity of what was about to happen hit me: I was about to introduce Mum to the first boy I really cared about – and if it didn’t go well, it would be curtains for Dwayne and me. If Dwayne failed to impress Mum and my aunties, I knew exactly what would happen: Mum would forbid me from seeing him and I’d be on lock-down.
When I heard Uncle Sam’s voice downstairs I started to feel sick. This visit was make or break. I only wished I had given Dwayne more warning or prepped him better. But it was too late now. He would have to sink or swim.
‘Oh, God,’ I prayed silently. ‘Don’t let him let me down.’
Effie arrived first, full of smiles and smelling delicious.
“Is that a new perfume?” I asked as I hugged her. It smelled grown-up and sophisticated – and expensive.
“Yes,” she beamed. “A gift... think of it as taking the rough with the smooth.” She turned away mysteriously, leaving me to wonder which guy she had her hooks into this time.
“Hi, Councillor Reynolds,” she called as she walked into the kitchen where Mum was tossing the salad. She always called Mum by her title, for no other reason than that she liked the way it sounded.
Mum grinned at her and kissed the air next to her cheek. “Gorgeous perfume, Effie,” she remarked as she looked her up and down. I could see that she approved of Effie’s cutting edge military-style jacket, skinny jeans and embroidered ballet pumps. Just the right mix of trendy and classy.
Auntie Dionne had met Effie before and was eager to introduce her to Uncle Sam.
“Effie’s father is a professor of African Studies at SOAS,” she said, holding Effie by the arm. “And her mother works as a consultant to the Runnymede Trust, isn’t that right?”
“Yes,” replied Effie, “she gained her doctorate last year, so now they are Dr and Dr Mensah – very confusing!”
They all laughed and Uncle Sam nodded his head approvingly. “So, you attend the same school as Misha – that fancy school in Dulwich?”
“Yes, I’ve been there since Year Eight.”
“I hear it’s a fantastic school,” enthused Uncle Sam. “Nothing but the best for you girls, eh?”
“Well,” said Auntie Loretta archly, “with the money my sister pays in school fees, it had better be nothing but the best!”
“Oh, Loretta,” sighed Auntie Dionne, “not everything is about money, you know.”
I flinched for my favourite aunt. She was so different to Mum and Auntie Dionne. For a start, she had never married and she still lived in Brixton, near my grandma. But there were other differences too, ones I couldn’t easily put my finger on.
Was it that Auntie Loretta was more down-to-earth than her sisters, more connected to her roots? I wasn’t sure – all I knew was I was banking on her support that afternoon. I knew that she would warm to Dwayne and, to be honest, listening to the conversation about expensive schools and doctorates, I realised that Dwayne was going to need all the friends he could get.
“He’s a bit late, isn’t he?” murmured Auntie Dionne.
“Not a good start, eh?” chuckled Uncle Sam. My dislike for him grew just a little more.
The conversation turned to the new television show Auntie Dionne was hosting on Sky One. I was proud of my aunt, of co
urse, but my stomach was tying itself in knots and I just couldn’t relax.
At last the doorbell rang and I leapt out of my chair. Everyone turned to look at me and I felt my face grow hot. Talk about pressure.
“Shall I come with you?” Effie asked, getting up.
“No, no,” I waved, “I’ll be fine.”
I peeped through the spy hole. It was Dwayne. He looked so good that I felt my insides ache. In that moment, I wanted to just take him by the hand and run away with him down the street, away from Mum and Auntie Dionne and Uncle Sam. We were all right when it was just the two of us. But here? My feelings of optimism had trickled away to nothing.
I just didn’t believe Dwayne would survive the Reynolds Inquisition.
Dwayne, on the other hand, was super-chilled. He smiled at me when I opened the door and leaned in to kiss me. On my doorstep, with my mum right inside? He had to be joking! I turned my head to the side and gave him a brief hug.
“Why you trippin’, girl?” He was too mellow, too laid-back. It made me even more nervous.
“You’re late, Dee,” I hissed, closing the door behind him. “Everyone’s been waiting for you...”
Dwayne took his cap off and rubbed his new haircut. “Boy...” he breathed. “I must be crazy...”
Then Mum appeared in the doorway, a bright smile on her face.
“You must be Dwayne!” she beamed, reaching out to shake Dwayne’s hand. “We’ve heard so much about you!”
“Hi, Mrs Reynolds,” Dwayne mumbled, ducking his head. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Come in, Dwayne, come and meet my sisters...”
I watched as Mum led Dwayne into the living room. All of sudden, he looked so out of place. I could see that he had made an effort: he wore his newest kicks, designer jeans and a leather jacket. But I saw Mum take in the tight fade, gold rings and diamond earrings and I knew just what she was thinking: typical ghetto style.
By the time I plucked up the courage to go out into the garden, the Inquisition was well underway.
“So, Dwayne,” Auntie Dionne was saying, as if she was setting up a television interview for her morning show, “where did you say you lived?”
“Saints Town Estate, up in Brixton.”
“Oh, that’s right near Mum’s house, isn’t it?” said Auntie Loretta, her face lighting up. “My shop’s not far from there.”
That’s right, Auntie Loretta, I thought, I knew you’d be in our corner!
But Auntie Dionne wrinkled up her nose and said, “Brixton? I see... and who do you live with?”
“My mum and my kid brother.”
Uncle Sam joined the interrogation: “No dad around, huh?”
“Nah,” replied Dwayne, totally unaware of the trap he was walking into, “my dad ain’t around. I don’t really know him, to tell you the truth.”
Uncle Sam sniffed and murmured, “So far, so typical,” before lifting a forkful of M&S rocket salad with cherry tomatoes and balsamic vinegar to his mouth. When he had finished chewing, he said, “Did you know that 60% of Caribbean children are raised in single-parent households? Shocking, isn’t it?”
“And then you have wonderful, stable couples like you and my sister who decide not to have children at all,” Auntie Loretta said brightly. “Ironic, isn’t it?”
Uncle Sam almost choked on his salad and Auntie Dionne shot her sister a look. I was glad. Someone needed to put that man in his place!
Mum came out from the kitchen with some grilled salmon and a couscous salad and sat down at the table. “So, Dwayne,” she said brightly, obviously unaware that the questioning had started without her, “I hear you go to a comprehensive school, is that right?”
“Yeah, that’s right, I go Saints Hill, just down the road from my estate.”
I saw the look on Mum’s face and felt the will to live slowly draining out of me.
Saints Hill was a notorious school, well known for failed OFSTED inspections, a revolving door of teachers and a serious drug problem, from Year 7 up. As a civil servant in local government, Mum knew all the gory details. And to make things worse, Saints Hill Primary School was my old school, the very school Mum had worked so hard to get me away from.
I had to try and salvage the conversation: “But he’s really good at Maths, aren’t you, Dwayne?”
Dwayne nodded, frowning slightly. “I get by, innit...”
Mum tried to recover from the shock and smiled a big fake smile. But her next question was the nail in the coffin: “So, which college are you looking at for ‘A’ Level?”
“Umm, not sure about ‘A’ Levels, y’know. Might have to retake some exams. School’s never been my strong point, y’get me. Not sure if I’m up to ‘A’ Levels, still...”
Mum sucked in her breath and said nothing more. Auntie Dionne raised an eyebrow and glanced over at Uncle Sam. Auntie Loretta looked over at me feelingly. Effie just concentrated on the pile of rocket leaves in front of her.
The conversation moved on to other things and Dwayne found himself ignored by everyone but me and Auntie Loretta, who asked him about his family and someone called Ms Walker, the headteacher at his school.
“We went to school together – she’s one of my best customers. A fantastic woman, really caring.”
Effie tried to lighten the mood but I wasn’t up to humouring her.
I squeezed Dwayne’s knee under the table and tried to smile encouragingly at him but he didn’t respond, preferring to concentrate on his barbecue chicken.
Not long after we had eaten, Dwayne excused himself, saying that he had some errands to run for his mum.
I saw Mum and Auntie Dionne exchange a look before Mum smiled up at him and trilled, “Lovely to meet you, Dwayne. Thanks for coming.”
“Thanks, Mrs Reynolds,” he replied, looking around at everyone. “It was nice to meet you all too.” But his voice was flat and his eyes had a hard, closed look. He practically pushed past me in an effort to get out of the door.
“Dwayne?” I began, unsure of his mood. “Speak later..?”
“Yeah, of course,” he shrugged and, with that, he was gone. No hug, no kiss, no backward glance.
I shivered as I watched him walk away from me. And as I turned to go back inside, it occurred to me that this could possibly be the last time I would ever see him.
Disrespect
DWAYNE
I ain’t gonna lie: I was bubbling when I left Misha’s house. I was so vex’, my head hurt from having to hold it down for so long. Of course I wasn’t about to lose it in front of Misha’s family, but damn! They sure knew how to make man feel small.
‘What was you expecting, blud?’
‘Some respect, man, at least. Man comes into your house, the least you can do is give him a chance, y’get me. It was like they had already made up their minds about me from time. Like I care what they think!’
‘They weren’t feeling you, blud, that’s for sure...’
‘But why, though? Because I live on an estate and don’t go to a posh school and speak all proper, like them? That’s just shallow, man. I don’t know what the hell Misha was thinking. She should have known what her people were like...’
That was when my phone rang. It was Misha. I bit my lip. I really didn’t want to speak to her too tough – but I knew how she felt about me not picking up her calls. I took a deep breath and counted to ten. I didn’t want her to know just how vex’ I was. When the phone rang off, I rang her right back.
“Hey, babe,” her voice was all soft on the other end of the line. “You all right?”
“Yeah, Misha, I’m fine...” I wanted to let her know how I was feeling, not keep it all inside – but I couldn’t find the words. “About today, Misha...”
“Yeah, Dee, about today...”
“I’m sorry, man, but...”
“I’m sorry too, it was awful...”
“What your mum and them did was wrong, putting mans on the spot like that. I could tell they didn’t like me the moment the
y saw me. Like they’d judged me already. I don’t like that kind of thing, man, it’s not right. You have to give people a chance, y’get me?”
“I know, Dwayne, I know.”
But I was in full flow now. “They don’t know nothin’ about me, nothin’ about my life, but they wanna come judge me. Screw them, man! I don’t need that crap, y’get me!”
Then Misha was quiet and I wondered whether I had been too blunt. I knew that Misha wasn’t used to people telling it straight. In her world, that was considered rude. But that was me, innit: a rudeboy, through and through. And that wasn’t going to change, no matter how many times Auntie Dionne looked down her nose at me.
“Dwayne.” Misha’s voice was all small and I could hear that she was trying to choose her words really carefully. “It’ll better next time, OK? They just need a chance to get to know you, that’s all. It’s a new experience for them too. Maybe if you could just...”
But I didn’t want to hear any more. I didn’t want to hear her making excuses for them. “Look, I need to clear my head, OK? It’s best we don’t talk now.”
“Yeah, you’re right...”
“Catch you later, yeah?” And I hung up.
Free that.
I got into the Tube wound up like a spring. It was Saturday night and the train was full of people on their way to the West End, ready to party. Some of them had already been to the pub and were making bare noise in the carriage. It hurt my head. I pulled my hoodie over my head and sank down lower in my seat.
Right across from me, this tall white guy with a stubbly chin was staring at me, his eyes red, his lips all wet and slack. Nastiness. I scowled at him and turned away, expecting him to do the same. But he kept looking at me, this little glint in his eye saying, ‘What you gonna do about it, sonny?’
“Do you know me, blud?” I barked, loud enough for the other passengers to hear me and stop their chatting.
Black Sheep Page 7