He looked up. “What?”
“We’re not, like…together. Just mates.”
There was something about his sullenness when he said, “Yeah, ’course. Just mates. Mates is good,” that made me think he felt the exact opposite. I was churning inside, cursing that day under the bridge. People were so bloody difficult. Why had I ever got involved?
He stood up, came toward me, putting an arm out. I thought, Shit, he’s going to hug me. Hasn’t he listened to anything? But his hand formed a fist, and he lightly punched my arm. “Listen, man, I know what you’re like. I’ve told you I’ll never say nothing nice to you. And now you’ve put me straight, I’ll never do nothing nice for you, neither. OK? If someone disrespects you, I’ll let them. If you’re being mugged on the street, I’ll walk on by. If I see you on fire, I won’t even piss on you. OK?”
I grinned, relaxed a bit. That was better, bit of humor, bit of distance. And he was right, he was starting to know me. No one else had ever been able to tease me like that, make me smile. After all that, me pushing him away, I almost felt like reaching out, putting my arms ’round him. Almost. But of course I didn’t. Instead our hands met, fists together, knuckles touching.
“Safe, man.”
“Yeah, Spider,” I said. “Safe.”
“So are you coming on Saturday? Not a date, retard, just a night out. Mates.”
“Dunno. I’ll see.”
I’d thought about it for a long time. More or less every minute between him asking me and me going up those stairs a couple of days later. I’d decided not to go hundreds of times. For so many reasons, it was a bad idea: First, I didn’t like people, they didn’t like me; second, Baz was a well-known psycho, a dangerous guy to be around; and, finally, Karen wouldn’t let me out that late. On the other hand, I’d never been asked to a party before, and part of me wanted to be out there, being normal. I told myself I would just go for a while, see what it was like. I wouldn’t have to stay if I didn’t like it. As for Karen, what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.
I slipped out through the kitchen while she was watching the telly in the sitting room, carrying my shoes so I wouldn’t make a noise on the stairs. I walked quickly, cocooned in the protection of my hood. Deep in my pocket, my hand felt the smoothness of the knife’s plastic handle. I’d picked it up on my way through the kitchen, just something to boost my confidence. I’d never use it, you know, I’m not aggressive or anything – but if trouble came looking for me, I figured the threat of a blade would make people back off long enough for me to leg it. Anyway, just knowing it was there was enough to get me out the door and into the dark. Another little secret to help me through.
It was easy enough to find Baz’s place: The music got louder and louder as I made my way up the stairs and along the hallway, and the concentration of spaced-out kids got denser. I’d hoped to see Spider out on the landing, but no such luck. I’d have to go inside. Given all the people hanging around, I wasn’t going to be able to just walk into the place, though; I was going to have to push my way through. Considering I didn’t know anyone and didn’t like being physically close to people, this was something of a tall order, but I was determined to go through with it now. Anyway, being small for my age, it was pretty easy to worm my way through – people didn’t seem to take offense.
Inside, it was so much worse than what I’d imagined: boiling hot, music so loud you couldn’t think, people crammed in, rancid armpits shoved in your face, overwhelming smell of smoke, dope, and sweat. And all the time, people’s numbers right in front of me, close up, no escape.
They say average life expectancy’s going up, don’t they, but I guess that doesn’t apply to kids from the projects of Greater London. Most of them were only going to make their forties or fifties; quite a few were checking out way before that. Casualties of how we all live now, I guess – cars, booze, drugs, despair. I’d rather not have known, but it wasn’t something I could switch on and off.
I’d got about ten feet in when I started to panic, wedged between a guy with his T-shirt completely soaked in his own sweat and his girlfriend, all hairspray and perfume. I didn’t see how I could get much farther forward, and the gap behind me had closed up. There was no air and the noise was so loud it was like it was actually inside my head, trying to burst out through my ears and eyes and nose. I was feeling light-headed, and as the strength started to go from my legs, I realized I didn’t actually need them; my body was held up by all those around me.
Through the smallest of gaps I saw a familiar logo on the back of a yellow T-shirt, bobbing up and down as its occupant moved in time to the beat. Spider! I took a deep breath and dropped to the floor, ducking down to squeeze through the sea of legs. I resurfaced by Spider and tapped him on the shoulder.
He half turned, smiled, and put his long arm across my back, holding me at my waist. Despite our little chat, I didn’t object. Drawn into his side, the familiar smell of his BO was almost welcome, and his arm supported me, giving me a chance to relax and breathe again.
He was saying something to me, but I couldn’t hear a thing. He bent down and yelled, “Good vibes, man! Here…” From his other hand he offered me a big roll-up. Battered and dazed just by having made it there, I took it without thinking. “Go on,” he shouted in my ear. “It’s good stuff.”
I looked at the roach, held between my fingers, blue smoke spiraling out of the end. It was just pot, nothing heavy. Then I thought of my mum, the funny angle she was lying at when I found her. Was this how she started? A harmless toke? No way I was going down that road. I handed it back to Spider.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“Nothing. It’s a bit hot in here – I think I need a drink.”
“You need to take off your hoodie, Jem, or you’ll melt.”
He was right. I could feel the sweat running down my front. I wriggled out of the sweatshirt, trying not to elbow anyone as I drew it up and over my head. Of course, I’d forgotten the knife. It fell out onto the floor. I held my breath, wondering what the reaction would be. Quite a few people had noticed – they just laughed.
“Hey, there’s no need for that here. Honor among thieves, right?” Someone ducked down, picked it up off the floor, and handed it back to me.
“Spider, who’s this you’ve got with you? She’s hardcore.” A wink of the eye told me they were laughing at me. I was fifteen and five foot nothing, no threat to them.
Spider grinned. “Yeah, this is Jem. You don’t want to mess with her. She’s little, but she’s mean.”
I wouldn’t normally like people talking about me, but squashed in there, it seemed like it was someone else they were talking about. It didn’t matter.
After a while, a big bloke came over to us and had a word with Spider. He was covered in tattoos, and I mean covered. Arms, neck, face, the lot. It was the ones on his face that freaked me out, never seen nothing that extreme before. Spider leaned down to me and yelled, “I’ve got to do a bit of business. I’ll be back in a minute.”
I watched them disappear together into a back room while my mind tried to make sense of something. The tattooed guy had looked me up and down when he’d come over to Spider. Now his number was drifting ’round my mind and I was trying to make sense of it – I may not have taken a draw on Spider’s spliff, but I guess I’d been breathing it in anyway. My mind wasn’t quite working the way it should – I hadn’t exactly stopped thinking, but it was just all taking a bit longer than usual. 12112010. What the hell did that mean? Then it all kind of came into focus again. The eleventh of December this year. That was when Tattoo Face was going to die. Four days before Spider. What the hell was going on around here?
Without Spider next to me, and with the numbers thing burning a hole in my head, I was definitely feeling edgy now. I hung around with Spider’s new pals, but I didn’t know them and they didn’t know me. I shut my eyes and pretended to be getting into the music, wondering how long I could stick it out, whether Spider would notice – or mind – if I wasn’t there when he got back.