Black Sheep (23 page)

Convincing Misha about Islam was way harder than I thought it would be. I tried everything: dropping it in conversation, giving her books, sending her links, even inviting her
to come down to the mosque when they were having a bazaar. But that had been a disaster and she just wasn’t having it.

“Look, Dwayne,” she said one day, “I’m not going to become a Muslim, OK? I’m a Christian. I was born in the church, raised in the church and I will die in the
church. And there is nothing you can tell me that will convince me otherwise.”

“But Misha, you haven’t even given it a chance! At least read the books I’m giving you, innit!” I looked over to the coffee table next to the bookshelf. The pile of books
looked exactly the same as it had the last time I was there.

Misha threw her hands in the air and pushed past me towards the front door. “Dwayne, if you’re on a quest to discover the truth, that’s fine, but count me out! I’m
perfectly happy as I am and I don’t need someone who only just started reading the Bible to tell me about the true religion!” She opened the door. “I think you’d better
go.”

I walked slowly to the door. I was proper disappointed. Why wouldn’t she give Islam a chance? Why was she shutting mans down like this? I leaned over to kiss her goodbye but she turned her
head and I ended up kissing air.

“Are you sure Muslims are allowed to kiss?” she said coldly as I walked past her. I turned to say goodbye, to tell her that I would come by tomorrow to study Shakespeare but I
didn’t get the chance. She had closed the door in my face.

Feisty
, man. Out of order.

When I got back to Saints Hill, I was still bubbling. I never knew Misha could be so hard-headed. She wouldn’t even read a book!

‘She’s afraid, blud.’

‘Afraid of what though, man?’

‘Afraid that it will actually make sense to her – and that she’ll have to rethink some of her ideas. You’re OK because you’re still searching, but Misha? Misha
thinks she knows who she is. She’s secure in her identity, y’get me. Learning about Islam is a threat to that. And it’s a threat to the two of you.’

‘Don’t I know that! I never thought Misha could go on so ignorant!

‘Have some faith, innit. Best start hitting the prayer mat in some sujood, asking Allah to guide her or you’re gonna be facing some tough times ahead.’

‘True dat.’

“Hey, Dwayne!
Salaam alaikum
!”

I spun round to see a girl walking up to me. She was wearing a short puffa jacket with a little scarf on her head, covering her hair. I squinted, trying to work out where I had seen her
before.

“Y’alright, Dwayne?” she said in a little girl voice. And straight away I remembered who she was.

“Rachel!” I said, smiling. “Where’ve you been? Haven’t seen you around for time!” Oh, yeah. I remembered Rachel. We’d had a fling in Year 10. She had
been proper wild back then.

“I’ve been around, y’know. It’s you who’s been keeping a low profile. I heard that you were seeing some posh girl from down Dulwich sides.”

“But who’s been telling you my business though?” I said, giving her a crooked smile.

‘Easy, Dwayne, easy. You just got asked about your status and you didn’t confirm it or say Misha’s name and, in fact, you changed the subject. And now you’re giving
her that smile. Fall back, soldier, fall back. I don’t like this.’

‘I beg you shut up, blud.’

Rachel shrugged her slim little shoulders. “Word gets around, innit.”

“So where’s your man then?”

Rachel laughed and popped her gum. “I ain’t on that no more. I’m on deen now. I’m a Muslim. You know Sean from school? He was giving me
da’wah
for
time.” She touched her little scarf. “We just took
shahadah
last week, me and my girl, Natalie.”

“Really?” I was impressed. “But are you proper on it though? Do you pray?”

“Of course I pray, man! Do
you
pray?”

“I’m trying my best, innit. It’s hard to remember all the actions and what to say. But my bredren Tony, he’s teaching me.
Insha Allah
, I’ll get
there.”

“Ain’t that Jukkie’s big brother?”

I nodded.

“Safe. Heard he’s proper on it. Anyway, I’ve got to go; I promised my mum I’d babysit. She’s going out on the razz – these
kufars
, they’re
something else, innit?”

She laughed then, that tinkly laugh of hers, and I began to feel light-headed. “And listen, if you need any help with your prayers, let me know. I’ll come over and help you.”
And then she looked me in the eye and something flashed between us.

‘What the hell was that? Did she just give you
the look
?’

‘I don’t know, blud, swear down! Phew! That was tough! It took all my willpower not to ask her for her number, man!’

‘Astaghfirullah! Chirpsing girls on deen – while you’ve got a girl yourself? Disgusting! You’re a tramp, Dwayne Kingston, a total ho.’

‘Ah, but I didn’t actually ask for the digits, did I?’

‘But you wanted to!’

‘But I didn’t and that’s what counts – what you do with your limbs.’

“Oh, Dwayne, I forgot.” Rachel was back, fishing around in her little shoulder bag. “Here.” She handed me a piece of paper. “My number in case you need me.
Salaam alaikum
!”

“Thanks, Rachel.”

“Oh, and you can call me Ruqayyah now, OK?”

“OK, Ruqayyah... see you around.
Salaam alaikum...”

‘Eediat!’

DWAYNE

Over the next few weeks, I hardly saw Jukkie. I knew that he was rolling with Trigger on the regular now and didn’t have time to come and check me. The two of them had
‘gone country’ – out to rob and push drugs in the suburbs where there was less competition.

A part of me missed Jukkie – he was my bredren at the end of the day – but another part of me was glad that he was staying away. I didn’t need his influence around, not while I
was trying to go straight.

But one day, while I was on my way back from after-school maths tuition, I heard a car beep.

I turned to see who it was: it was Jukkie, in a brand new convertible. My man looked proper pleased with himself.

“Yo, Dee,” he called. “Come and roll with your boy, innit!”

I looked at the other seats: empty. I could handle Jukkie when he was on his own, so I nodded and jogged across the road to the car.

Once we were in the car, it was like old days. Jukkie was playing his favourite tune,
Me against the world
by Tupac. Jukkie was crazy for Tupac. Even after other rappers had come on the
scene, even when everyone else started listening to grime, Jukkie stayed loyal to Tupac.

“Tupac understands my life, y’get me,” he would say. “He’s like the father I never had.”

We chewed the fat for a while, chattin’ about this and that. It was nice, man, just like old times.

“Let’s go for a drive,” he said, as he swung the car up towards Thornton Heath. “I need to burn some rubber in this baby!”

It was all good until Jukkie’s phone went off. He had received a message. He kissed his teeth and picked up the phone to look at the screen. It was a video message. It sounded nasty.

I could see Jukkie’s face grow darker as he tried to figure out what was going on on the screen. Then he swore loudly and slammed the brakes on the car. The car screeched and stopped and
the car behind us beeped long and loud.

“Maniacs!” called the man as he sped past us, giving us the finger.

Jukkie ignored him and put the car in reverse. Faster and faster he went backwards down the one-way street. I looked in my sideview mirror, praying no cars would appear behind us.

“Easy, Jukkie, easy!”

With a squeal of tyres and the stink of hot rubber, Jukkie swung the car back towards Stockwell.

“What’s going on, man?” I was panting as I ran up the stairs behind him. This was where one of his girlfriends lived. I had been there before, for a house party. But Jukkie
didn’t say a word.

When we got to the house, he banged on the door.

“Open up, Lachelle!”

Jukkie’s girl, Lachelle, opened the door and he barged in, pushing her inside. To my surprise, I saw that she was at least six months pregnant. So, Jukkie had a pickney on the way...

Jukkie didn’t say a word, just gave her a slap that sent her spinning.

I stepped forward. “Yo, Jukkie, easy, man. The baby...”

“What’s up with you, man?” she squealed, holding her cheek.

“You’re a dirty sket, that’s what!” Jukkie yelled, his face all twisted with rage and disgust. “I can’t believe I ever trusted you.”

“Why, Jukkie, why? What have I done? I ain’t done nothin’!” The girl was crying now, trying to grab on to his arm, trying to make him look her in the face.

“Yeah? Well then how do you explain this?” With bared teeth, Jukkie shoved his mobile phone in her face. I saw her flinch and look away from what was obviously some nasty video, a
video of her.

“By now, every man on the estate will have seen it!” Jukkie spat full in her face. “You must be mad if you think I want anything to do with you!”

“Please, Jukkie, don’t go...”

“Move from me, bitch!” And he barged past me. “Let’s dust, man.”

He paused at the door to look back one last time. “And you can get rid of that baby an’ all. Probably wasn’t even mine.”

Before the door slammed shut, I saw Lachelle collapse against the kitchen counter, her fists jammed against her mouth to keep from crying out.

That was heavy.

Without Jukkie saying a word, I knew what had happened. A couple of weeks before, Lockjaw and the Larkside crew had started a new craze down their endz: they went after girls who already had
boyfriends and drugged them up – sometimes with their consent, sometimes without – and made them do all kinds of nastiness, and every member of the crew got a piece. Then they would
film everything and send the videos to each other, to the girls’ boyfriends, post them on the Internet.

After something like that, a girl’s name was dirt. She was known as a sket by the whole estate and then Larkside mandem could get her to do practically anything: drugs – using,
pushing, carrying – videos, turning tricks.

They had got one of Jukkie’s girls this time.

Jukkie was so wound up, I asked him to drop me on the high road. I knew that he was going to go and get high now and I didn’t want to be with him when he was like that.

But I passed by Tony’s place to tell him what had happened.

Tony shook his head. “Dem mans are gettin’ worse and worse. In my day, none of this stuff used to go down.” Then he looked at me straight in the eye. “Don’t forget
that you’re a Muslim now, Dee. You need to keep good company or you’ll end up off the rails again. Come with me to the mosque this Friday and chill with the brothers. There’s a
talk on and a barbecue afterwards.”

“You know what, Tony, I’d love to, but this Friday ain’t gonna happen. I’m performing at Club Loco – and Misha’s coming to see me rock the mic
there.”

I was so chuffed that I hardly noticed the disappointment in Tony’s face. “You’re going raving, Dee? And taking Misha with you? I thought you were leaving all
that...”

“Yeah, but man has to take things one step at a time, innit. I’m praying now,
masha Allah
. I’ve quit smoking – and I ain’t gonna drink any alcohol while
I’m there...”

Tony’s face looked pained. “It’s wrong, Dee,” he said. “You shouldn’t be there, not with all that haram around you. Can’t you take Misha somewhere else?
Why not bring her to the mosque for the barbecue?”

I kissed my teeth then, growing impatient with Tony for the first time. “Nah, man, Misha ain’t interested in coming to the mosque. We asked her mum and dad if she could come to see
me spit and they agreed – so we’re legit. And this could be my big chance, my one shot at the big time. Do you have any idea who’s gonna be there?” And I started listing the
DJ crews and producers that the organiser had invited. “This could be it for me!”

But Tony went all quiet. “I’m worried about you, Dee. I don’t think you’re thinking straight. If you decide to change your mind, you’re welcome to join us at the
masjid
. You and Misha.”

It was like he hadn’t even heard a word I said.

MISHA

“Does your mum know where you’re going tonight?” Effie eyed me in the mirror as she carefully blended foundation over her cheekbones.

“Yes, she does, actually. Both Mum and Dad agreed to let me see Dwayne perform – but Mum needed a bit of convincing, of course!”

“Well, you are sixteen, aren’t you?” called Victoria from the bathroom. “That has to count for something.”

“Yes, well, she said she’s trusting us this once – so let’s hope nothing happens, eh?”

“Yeah, I meant to ask you about that: this place we’re going to tonight, is it safe? I mean, I’m all for street art and underground music and all that cool, edgy stuff but I
don’t want to get caught up in some drive-by shooting or anything!”

“Dwayne said it would be fine – I trust him.”

“OK, ladies, let’s not forget it’s the weekend,” said Victoria. “I don’t want to have to think about anything but having a good time.” And she brought
out a small packet of white powder and a credit card and flashed a brilliant smile. “Daddy’s gold card, ladies – who’s in?”