Chapter Two

Dave walked into the noisy classroom, and spotted a spare seat at the back of the room near Greg. He sauntered up to the seat and dropped his rucksack under the desk. Greg eyed him suspiciously.

"Hey, newbie, I don't remember saying you could sit there."

"Sorry," Dave said, but didn't move. He pulled some gum out of his bag, and began to chew it noisily. "Want some?" Greg held out his hand for some gum, some of the aggression disappearing from his face. Miss Voolt shuffled into the classroom and glared daggers at the two.

"Chewing gum in class is not allowed," she said sharply. Greg laughed loudly. She glared at him again, to no effect.

"She's a right old fart," he said to Dave. "Watch this."

Greg tore a page out of his textbook and wadded it up. Miss Voolt began to write the work on the board. He launched the spitball at a scrawny kid at the front of the class. It hit him in the back of the head and dropped to the floor. The kid spun round, wide eyed. Greg flipped him off and smirked at Dave. "You have a go. If you get Miss Voolt, you can hang out with me and my crew down at the park this evening." The kid was watching Dave nervously.

Dave pulled a page out of his tatty textbook. The page was so covered in doodles from its previous owners he doubted he would have been able to use it anyway. He launched the spitball, and it fell just short of Miss Voolt, missing her, but landing squarely in her cup of coffee. Greg howled with laughter as Miss Voolt turned round, startled by the splash, and saw the soggy missile. Both boys were promptly sent to the headmaster, and Dave hoped it would be enough to get in with Greg.

That evening, Dave went down to the park. There were huddles of teenagers standing around, and someone was playing loud rock music from an old iPhone. Dave saw Greg with two other boys, and made his way over. One of the boys was tall, with a dirty adidas top. The other was short and a skinhead.

"Hey newbie," Greg said cheerfully.

"So, what goes down here?" Dave asked him.

"Oh, you know, usual stuff. See that kid? Blue hoodie?" Greg pointed out the kid who he'd spitballed earlier. "He owes me 50 quid."

"What for?" Dave asked innocently. The skinhead laughed.

"Stuff. You know," Greg shrugged off the question. Dave wondered if Greg had shoplifted something for the kid, and wanted his payment, but found himself doubting this. He decided to press Greg further, but before he could say anything, the kid in the hoodie spotted Greg, and froze. "I'm going to get my money. Want to come?" Dave nodded, and Greg began walking towards the boy. The boy immediately turned and ran. The four chased their quarry out of the park. It was clear to Dave that the boy they were chasing was quite fit, and Greg didn't have the stamina to hunt him down. Greg stopped his pursuit. The guy in the adidas shirt, like Dave, clearly could have continued running, but didn't want to challenge Greg.

"Shit! I can't believe he got away," Greg groaned.

"Wait, I know where he lives," the skinhead said. "We can go a different way and get him as he gets back." Dave found himself rooting for the boy in the hoodie. He didn't know what Greg had planned for the kid, but it surely couldn't be anything good.

They arrived at the kid's house after a short run. Dave felt good after the run, but Greg was clearly winded, as were the other two boys. He looked around for signs that the kid had arrived there before them, but he couldn't see any lights on, and realised that they had beaten him there.

The boy ran around the corner and ran up to his front door, looking over his shoulder. The skinhead grabbed him by the back of the shirt, and dragged him in front of Greg. Greg sneered down at the kid.

"You owe me 50 quid."

"What?" the boy asked, looking confused. "I borrowed 40 quid." He tried to squirm out of the skinhead's grasp, but the skinhead twisted his arm behind his back instead.

"Yeah, plus 10 pounds of interest. Now give me my money."

"I don't have 50 quid yet," the kid said nervously. Greg punched him brutally in the stomach and the boy collapsed on the pavement groaning.

"You have until tomorrow evening to get my money to me. We know where you live, my friend." Greg gestured to the boy. "Go on newbie. Have a shot." Dave's mind spun: he didn't want to hurt the boy, but he needed to find out how Greg was linked to the shoplifting. He took a breath and kicked the boy in the side, pulling the kick slightly at the last second. It was enough to make the kid groan again, but he hoped it wasn't too painful either. Greg high fived him. "Come down to the park again tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Dave said, forcing a smile. He was fairly sure the skinhead had started kicking the boy, judging by the groans coming from the boy.

"If you're lucky," Greg said, leaning in, "I might be able to scrounge some beer for tomorrow evening." Dave couldn't imagine how bad a drunk Greg would be, and didn't want to find out either.

"My dad would be really mad if I came home drunk," Dave explained to Greg. "He adopted me and I don't want to make him upset, he's been really cool to me."

"I didn't have you down as a goody goody, newbie, I thought you were cool." Greg looked challengingly at him.

"I guess I could force a few down though," Dave smiled. Greg clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"How about we bunk tomorrow? We can go on my Playstation all day and then go to the park in the evening," the boy in the adidas shirt said.

"You up for it, newbie? Or will daddy throw a tantrum if you skip school?" the skinhead mocked, turning away from his victim. Dave gritted his teeth, realising he'd made a big mistake.

"Course I'm up for it. School's awful anyway." Greg nodded absent mindedly.

"See you round newbie."

"I'm Dave, by the way." The skinhead snorted and muttered something under his breath.

"See you round Dave," Greg said with a small smirk, and the three walked off, leaving Dave alone with the boy on the ground.