Black Sheep (9 page)

Then I saw Jay look away and I felt bad. He hated it when Mum and I argued. “Sorry, little man,” I said softly. “Don’t watch me, yeah? Me and Mum are cool.”

Jay looked up at me, his face all doubtful. “Are you gonna get chucked out of school, Dee?”

“Nah, man, nah! Nothing like that, man. Nothing like that.”

Jay shrugged. “It don’t make no difference anyway, does it? Spaz told me that he’s gonna make mad loot when he joins RDS for real. Then he won’t need school and he can do
what he likes.”

“Oh, yeah?” I squatted down in front of Jay, my back against the wall. “What else did little Spazzie say?”

“He says mans like be makin’ about a grand a week, running errands for Trigger. A grand, y’know! Can you imagine how many kicks you could get for that money?” Jay’s
eyes glazed over and I could see him imagining himself in a phat ride, maybe a red Lamborghini, gold chains swinging, diamond rings twinkling, driving round the estate, a big man.

“With that kind of money, who needs a job, man?” Jay continued. “I say school’s for losers who ain’t got no sense.” And he walked off down the corridor, all
hard now, bopping in the exact same way as his best friend, Spaz.

I looked at my kid brother’s back, ten years old and already wise to the ways of the street. Had I been so clued-up at that age? I couldn’t help thinking of what Ms Walker had said,
earlier in the week. I wondered what she would make of little Jay, a street-life apprentice before he even knew his times tables.

Then I kissed my teeth. Enough of this crap. I had a day to get through.

On the way to the bowling alley in Streatham, Jay was in hyper mode, chatting about everything and nothing. Poor guy was stoked because I had agreed to take him out. I
definitely needed to be there for him more. Streatham seemed a safe enough area, I thought to myself. No risk of running into any beef there. At first, I tried to keep track of all his stories but
after a while, I zoned out and began to think of other things, trying to sort through the crap that was clogging up my brain.

‘Dwayne, man, what’re you doing?’

‘What do you mean, ‘what am I doing’? Ain’t it obvious? I’m taking my kid brother to the bowling alley.’

‘Nah, man, I ain’t talking about that. I mean what’re you doing with your life?’

Silence.

‘Well?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘But why don’t you know, tho?’

‘I don’t know, I’m confused, innit!’

‘What are the choices?’

‘What d’you mean?’

‘Don’t act dumb, man, you ain’t in school! What are your choices, Dwayne?’

‘Well...’

‘Yes..?’

‘I ain’t good at a lot of stuff, y’know.’

‘Spare me the sob story, yeah, I’ve heard it all before. We’ve been hearing it since forever! It’s time to flip the script. Tell me what you
can
do.’

‘Well...’

‘Yes...?’

‘Well, I’m good at Maths, innit. I can take a set of numbers and spin it on its head and make it come alive and start dancing like it’s on fire or something... I can do
that.’

‘OK, that’s a start. That’s a good start.’

‘I can spit too, like a maestro.’

‘True dat...’

‘Thanks.’

‘Shut up.’

‘OK.’

‘I said, ‘Shut up’!’

Silence.

‘Good. Right, what about these GCSEs, man, what’s up with them?’

‘Nah, man, I can’t be dealing with those exams! Ms Walker may think she’s got it all figured out but she don’t know my reality.’

‘What about Misha? She definitely seems to know what she’s doing...’

‘Dem people’s different, man, we ain’t the same.’

‘Why not?’

‘I don’t know, they’re just different. Kinda like white people... I can’t explain it. All I know is, yeah, there ain’t no teachers at my school who believe that
any of us are even gonna pass our exams, let alone go to college or university. It just ain’t gonna happen, blud.’

‘Says who?’

‘Everyone knows that.’

‘Everyone?’

‘Yeah... no.’

Silence.

‘Not everyone.’

‘So what do
you
know?’

‘I know you need to get the hell out of my head, that’s what I know!’

Silence.

‘So that’s it?’

Silence.

‘Really?’

‘I’ll say one last thing...’

‘Ha, I knew you was still there!’

‘I’m out, mate, I’m just gonna say one last thing: you need to check this beef with Trigger and Larkside mans. Before it’s too late.’

‘That’s it?’

Silence.

‘OK.’

We had reached the bowling alley. We bounced off the bus and on to the curb but, as we walked towards the large yellow building I slowed down, my heart hammering in my chest. I caught sight of a
green bandanna under a hood and, as if in slow motion, the boy wearing the hood turned towards me and I saw the scowling face and the scar running like a silver ribbon across his forehead.

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?

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.