the lot, bitch,’ complained Adam.
Scott took another pull on the vodka and Coke and handed it back to his friend sitting on the bed. He walked to the window and looked down the two storeys to the dark garden below. He turned back to Adam, his expression severe. ‘I know it was you, Ade. Couldn’t be no one else.’
‘Me what?’ retorted Adam, grinning.
‘Play dumb if you like,’ growled Scott, pulling a Stanley knife from his pocket. As he advanced towards the bed, he slipped his thumb along the stock to expose the blade. ‘You know what I’m on about. Following me around.’ He pressed his face close to Adam. ‘And other stuff.’
Adam paused in mid-drink, his eyes glued to the blade. ‘Are you joking me?’
‘I look like I’m joking you?’ retorted Scott.
Adam shifted uncomfortably as the blade was held in front of his eyes. His voice began to tremble. ‘Scooter, I don’t know what you’re chatting. Swear down.’
Scott gazed at Adam’s drained face, the first doubt softening his own expression. A moment later, he lowered the blade. ‘You didn’t send me no note?’
‘A note?’ said Adam, blowing out a breath in relief. ‘Why would I send you a note when I can BBM you? Old people send notes, you div.’
Scott’s eyes dropped to the floor. Fear and confusion invaded his features. He returned to look out of the window, face hidden from his friend. Couldn’t show fear to his mate. Fear was death. Fear was for victims. Scott Wheeler was a G.
‘Someone sent me a note,’ breathed Scott on to the glass. When Adam didn’t react he continued, ‘Pretending to be Josh.’
‘Josh. You mean Josh Stapleton?’ exclaimed Adam. ‘He’s dead, Scoot.’
Now Scott gurned back at his friend and threw his arms in the air. ‘Think I’m a mong? I know he’s dead, shithead. That’s what I’m on about. Someone’s fucking with me and whoever’s sending me notes knows he’s dead and it’s not fucking funny.’
Adam stood up in case Scott lost his cool and produced the Stanley knife again. ‘Chill, man. I’m your bredrin.’ When Scott seemed calmer he asked, ‘What did the note say?’
Scott exhaled. ‘Saying it was Josh, asking me to meet him.’
‘Where?’
‘I’m not sure,’ he said with a covert glance towards Adam, unable to meet his eyes.
‘Anything else?’
Scott took a deep breath. ‘Josh said I should be careful because he wants me next.’
‘Who wants you next? You mean that tramp what merked Josh?’
‘Maybe. Dunno. It just said I’m next.’
‘But that don’t make no sense. The feds caught the skell and banged him up. How can he be after you?’
Scott shook his head. ‘Dunno.’
‘The note, where is it?’
‘Home. Why?’
‘Maybe we can trace the handwriting like they do in Criminal Minds ?’
‘OMG – stop being a div. We’re kids, you knob. ’Sides, it weren’t written by hand. It were bits of newspaper stuck together.’
Adam’s mouth fell open. ‘Just like in the movies. Creepy.’
Scott turned back to the window, ‘Creepy if you’re a girl.’ He stared blankly at the Stygian gloom below, only a rectangle of light falling on one corner of the overgrown lawn, itself corrupted by the moving silhouettes of partygoers, dancing to some gay music. Poker Face.
A movement caught Scott’s eye and his head turned like a frightened bird. A figure in a hoodie stepped out of the bushes and stood in the shadow of the largest tree. The fat lettering across the chest reading LEGEND, the baggy tracksuit held up by the thighs and the white trainers all caught the eye in the millisecond it took to process the information.
‘Josh!’ exclaimed Scott, gripping the sash window as though trying to pull his face through the glass for a closer look. Though hidden in the shadow of the hood, Scott felt certain the figure was looking up at him. When the figure raised an arm to touch one finger against his head, Scott turned, ashen-faced, to Adam and let out a
Scott took another pull on the vodka and Coke and handed it back to his friend sitting on the bed. He walked to the window and looked down the two storeys to the dark garden below. He turned back to Adam, his expression severe. ‘I know it was you, Ade. Couldn’t be no one else.’
‘Me what?’ retorted Adam, grinning.
‘Play dumb if you like,’ growled Scott, pulling a Stanley knife from his pocket. As he advanced towards the bed, he slipped his thumb along the stock to expose the blade. ‘You know what I’m on about. Following me around.’ He pressed his face close to Adam. ‘And other stuff.’
Adam paused in mid-drink, his eyes glued to the blade. ‘Are you joking me?’
‘I look like I’m joking you?’ retorted Scott.
Adam shifted uncomfortably as the blade was held in front of his eyes. His voice began to tremble. ‘Scooter, I don’t know what you’re chatting. Swear down.’
Scott gazed at Adam’s drained face, the first doubt softening his own expression. A moment later, he lowered the blade. ‘You didn’t send me no note?’
‘A note?’ said Adam, blowing out a breath in relief. ‘Why would I send you a note when I can BBM you? Old people send notes, you div.’
Scott’s eyes dropped to the floor. Fear and confusion invaded his features. He returned to look out of the window, face hidden from his friend. Couldn’t show fear to his mate. Fear was death. Fear was for victims. Scott Wheeler was a G.
‘Someone sent me a note,’ breathed Scott on to the glass. When Adam didn’t react he continued, ‘Pretending to be Josh.’
‘Josh. You mean Josh Stapleton?’ exclaimed Adam. ‘He’s dead, Scoot.’
Now Scott gurned back at his friend and threw his arms in the air. ‘Think I’m a mong? I know he’s dead, shithead. That’s what I’m on about. Someone’s fucking with me and whoever’s sending me notes knows he’s dead and it’s not fucking funny.’
Adam stood up in case Scott lost his cool and produced the Stanley knife again. ‘Chill, man. I’m your bredrin.’ When Scott seemed calmer he asked, ‘What did the note say?’
Scott exhaled. ‘Saying it was Josh, asking me to meet him.’
‘Where?’
‘I’m not sure,’ he said with a covert glance towards Adam, unable to meet his eyes.
‘Anything else?’
Scott took a deep breath. ‘Josh said I should be careful because he wants me next.’
‘Who wants you next? You mean that tramp what merked Josh?’
‘Maybe. Dunno. It just said I’m next.’
‘But that don’t make no sense. The feds caught the skell and banged him up. How can he be after you?’
Scott shook his head. ‘Dunno.’
‘The note, where is it?’
‘Home. Why?’
‘Maybe we can trace the handwriting like they do in Criminal Minds ?’
‘OMG – stop being a div. We’re kids, you knob. ’Sides, it weren’t written by hand. It were bits of newspaper stuck together.’
Adam’s mouth fell open. ‘Just like in the movies. Creepy.’
Scott turned back to the window, ‘Creepy if you’re a girl.’ He stared blankly at the Stygian gloom below, only a rectangle of light falling on one corner of the overgrown lawn, itself corrupted by the moving silhouettes of partygoers, dancing to some gay music. Poker Face.
A movement caught Scott’s eye and his head turned like a frightened bird. A figure in a hoodie stepped out of the bushes and stood in the shadow of the largest tree. The fat lettering across the chest reading LEGEND, the baggy tracksuit held up by the thighs and the white trainers all caught the eye in the millisecond it took to process the information.
‘Josh!’ exclaimed Scott, gripping the sash window as though trying to pull his face through the glass for a closer look. Though hidden in the shadow of the hood, Scott felt certain the figure was looking up at him. When the figure raised an arm to touch one finger against his head, Scott turned, ashen-faced, to Adam and let out a
Similar Books
