you, baby girl. You’re sixteen, seventeen soon. You can’t spend your time fighting and training and running your daddy’s gym for him.”
“She can. She can do what she wants,” called Sadie-May, sensibly, ignoring Beryl’s glare.
I agreed. I didn’t see why I couldn’t carry on living my life how I wanted, but it’s no use arguing with Beryl. So I grabbed the chocolate box that was still doing the rounds and handed it to Queenie. “Here you go. The last chocolate!”
As Queenie reached for it, Beryl’s attention left me and homed in on her. “Hey, that’s mine. Give it to me!”
Too late. Queenie nabbed it. “It’s coffee! You don’t like coffee, so I might as well finish it. It would be unlucky not to!”
While they argued, I made my escape. Sabrina hadn’t finished yet. Her nail design was complicated and trimmed with tiny diamonds. It would take another half an hour before she started yelling for me again.
“I’ll wait for you in the street,” I told her. “Then we’ll go and look at those earrings you want.”
I thought that outside I’d be able to relax and stop thinking about Gregory. But as soon as I stepped out into the busy, bustling street I stopped dead, as though I’d walked into an invisible force field.
Something was wrong.
I turned round slowly, spinning on my heel, taking in everything. The high street was lined with all the usual shops, Boots, WH Smith, Topshop, Costa Coffee, McDonald’s. People were going in and out of them, hands full of bags, or walking along, talking on their phones. Not far away, a
Big Issue
seller was trying to attract customers. So far, so normal. But however normal and everyday it looked on the surface, I could feel danger lurking near by.
All my life I’ve loved the tingle that comes with knowing that something’s about to happen. I live for the moments when the adrenaline surges through my veins, my eyes go as sharp as a wolf’s, and my ears hear the quietest footfall – or on one occasion, the tiny
shhhting
of a knife being pulled. When I was little, I used to hunt out the older bullies in the school playground and taunt them. When I was older, I deliberately walked home through streets where gangs of big boys lurked. I could fight them all.
And now? Now I sneak off and I fight in the “no rules” cage fights. The ones held in the back streets, where a door has to be knocked and you ask for Maltese Joey, but you never get to see him or meet him because he’s clever enough to keep himself a mystery, even though he runs a string of clubs where fights have no time limit and no referee. Fighters go there hoping to win big money, while their supporters stand at the cage bars and shout and scream and bet on them. I’m getting to be known in those places. The name of “Gypsy Girl” is becoming famous. Me daddy would go crazy if he knew, but he doesn’t. Only one person in the whole world knows what I do – Kimmy. And she would never give me away because she’s my best friend and we’re closer than sisters. It’s a dangerous and thrilling game, and I can’t stop.
That’s why, as I stood in the street and looked around, I smiled to myself. I could feel the danger crackling like static in the air. Granny Kate was right. There was trouble ahead, and it was aimed straight at me. But until it showed up, I couldn’t do anything to stop it. So, for now, I had to wait. I got meself a coffee from the Costa place and perched on the back of a bench.
I checked up and down the street again. To my left there were shoppers milling about, looking in windows, hurrying into shops. Nothing wrong there. Nor with the group of girls sitting on a bench across from me, swinging their legs and whispering to one another.
I looked the other way, towards the little clock tower that marked the centre of the street and –
zing
– straightaway I got an adrenaline buzz.
Three boys were hanging around the steps at the bottom of the tower, hoods pulled up, jeans
“She can. She can do what she wants,” called Sadie-May, sensibly, ignoring Beryl’s glare.
I agreed. I didn’t see why I couldn’t carry on living my life how I wanted, but it’s no use arguing with Beryl. So I grabbed the chocolate box that was still doing the rounds and handed it to Queenie. “Here you go. The last chocolate!”
As Queenie reached for it, Beryl’s attention left me and homed in on her. “Hey, that’s mine. Give it to me!”
Too late. Queenie nabbed it. “It’s coffee! You don’t like coffee, so I might as well finish it. It would be unlucky not to!”
While they argued, I made my escape. Sabrina hadn’t finished yet. Her nail design was complicated and trimmed with tiny diamonds. It would take another half an hour before she started yelling for me again.
“I’ll wait for you in the street,” I told her. “Then we’ll go and look at those earrings you want.”
I thought that outside I’d be able to relax and stop thinking about Gregory. But as soon as I stepped out into the busy, bustling street I stopped dead, as though I’d walked into an invisible force field.
Something was wrong.
I turned round slowly, spinning on my heel, taking in everything. The high street was lined with all the usual shops, Boots, WH Smith, Topshop, Costa Coffee, McDonald’s. People were going in and out of them, hands full of bags, or walking along, talking on their phones. Not far away, a
Big Issue
seller was trying to attract customers. So far, so normal. But however normal and everyday it looked on the surface, I could feel danger lurking near by.
All my life I’ve loved the tingle that comes with knowing that something’s about to happen. I live for the moments when the adrenaline surges through my veins, my eyes go as sharp as a wolf’s, and my ears hear the quietest footfall – or on one occasion, the tiny
shhhting
of a knife being pulled. When I was little, I used to hunt out the older bullies in the school playground and taunt them. When I was older, I deliberately walked home through streets where gangs of big boys lurked. I could fight them all.
And now? Now I sneak off and I fight in the “no rules” cage fights. The ones held in the back streets, where a door has to be knocked and you ask for Maltese Joey, but you never get to see him or meet him because he’s clever enough to keep himself a mystery, even though he runs a string of clubs where fights have no time limit and no referee. Fighters go there hoping to win big money, while their supporters stand at the cage bars and shout and scream and bet on them. I’m getting to be known in those places. The name of “Gypsy Girl” is becoming famous. Me daddy would go crazy if he knew, but he doesn’t. Only one person in the whole world knows what I do – Kimmy. And she would never give me away because she’s my best friend and we’re closer than sisters. It’s a dangerous and thrilling game, and I can’t stop.
That’s why, as I stood in the street and looked around, I smiled to myself. I could feel the danger crackling like static in the air. Granny Kate was right. There was trouble ahead, and it was aimed straight at me. But until it showed up, I couldn’t do anything to stop it. So, for now, I had to wait. I got meself a coffee from the Costa place and perched on the back of a bench.
I checked up and down the street again. To my left there were shoppers milling about, looking in windows, hurrying into shops. Nothing wrong there. Nor with the group of girls sitting on a bench across from me, swinging their legs and whispering to one another.
I looked the other way, towards the little clock tower that marked the centre of the street and –
zing
– straightaway I got an adrenaline buzz.
Three boys were hanging around the steps at the bottom of the tower, hoods pulled up, jeans
Similar Books
Almost Lost
Beatrice Sparks
World War II Behind Closed Doors
Laurence Rees
Deep Inside
Polly Frost
Object of Desire
William J. Mann
The Danger Trail
James Oliver Curwood
Before the Storm
Sean McMullen
Words Get In the Way
Nan Rossiter
Tiger, Tiger
Margaux Fragoso