Some kids were happy to have one games console. James Choke had every console, game and accessory going. He had a PC, an MP3 player, Nokia mobile, widescreen TV and DVD recorder in his room. He never looked after any of it. If something broke he got another one. He had eight pairs of Nike trainers. A top-line skateboard. A £600 racing bike. When his bedroom was in a mess it looked like a bomb had gone off in Toys R Us.
James had all this because Gwen Choke was a thief. She ran a shoplifting empire from her armchair
hile she watched daytime soaps and stuffed chocolates and pizza. She didn't steal, herself. Gwen took orders and passed them down to thieves who worked for her. She covered her tracks, never going near stolen goods herself and switching mobiles every few days so the police couldn't trace her calls.
*
It was the first time James had been back to primary school since his last day as a pupil before the summer holidays. A few mums stood at the gate nattering.
'Where's your mum, James?' someone asked.
'Off her face,' James said sourly.
There was no way James was covering for her after she'd kicked him out of the flat. He saw the other mums exchange glances.
'I want Medal Of Honour for Playstation,' one of them asked. 'Can she get it?'
James shrugged, 'Course, half price, cash only.'
'Will you remember, James?'
'No. Give us a bit of paper with your name and phone number and I'll pass it on.'
The gaggle of mums started jotting things down. Trainers, jewellery, radio-controlled car. James stuffed the papers into his school blazer.
'I need it by Tuesday,' someone said.
James wasn't in the mood.
'If you want to tell my mum something, write it down. I won't remember.'
The kids all started coming out. Nine-year-old Lauren was last out of her class. She had her hands tucked in her bomber jacket and mud on her jeans from playing football with the boys at lunchtime. Lauren had blonde hair, same as James, but she kept asking her mum to let her dye it black.
Lauren was on another planet to most girls her age. She didn't own a single dress or skirt. She'd microwaved her Barbies when she was five and hadn't touched one since. Gwen Choke said if there were two ways of doing something, Lauren would always pick the third one.
'I hate that old bat,' Lauren said, when she got near James.
'Who?' James asked.
'Mrs Reed. She gave us sums. I did them in about two minutes, and she made me sit still for the rest of the lesson waiting for all the dumb kids to finish. She wouldn't even let me go to the cloakroom and get my book.'
James remembered Mrs Reed had done the same thing when she was his teacher three years earlier. It was like getting punished for being clever.
'Why are you here, anyway?' Lauren asked.
'Mum's drunk.'
'She's not supposed to drink until after the operation.'
'Don't tell me,' James said. 'What can I do about it?'
'How come you got home early enough to pick me up?'
'Got in a fight. They sent me home.'
Lauren shook her head, but she couldn't help smiling.
'Another fight. That's three this term, isn't it?'
James didn't want to talk about it.
'What do you want first?' he asked. 'Good news or bad news?'
Lauren shrugged. 'Just tell us.'
'Your dad's indoors. The good news is Mum gave us money to get take-away. He should be gone by the time we get home.'
*
They ended up in a burger place. James got a double cheeseburger meal. Lauren only wanted onion rings and a Coke. She wasn't hungry, so she got handfuls of little milks and sugar packets and made a mess on the table while James ate. She tipped out loads of sugar, soaked it with milk, then shredded the paper wrappers and stirred it all up.
'What are you doing that for?' James asked.
'As a matter of fact,' Lauren said acidly, 'the entire future of western civilisation depends upon me making a smiley face with this ketchup.'
'You realise some poor sod has to clean all that up?' James said.
'Not my problem,' Lauren shrugged.
James tucked in the last mouthful of his burger and realised he was still starving. Lauren had hardly touched her onion rings.
'You eating those?' James asked.
'Have them if you want. They're stone cold.'
'This is all we've got for dinner. You better eat something.'
'I'm not hungry,' Lauren said. 'I'll make toasted sandwiches later.'
James loved Lauren's toasted sandwiches. They were mad: she got Nutella, honey, icing sugar, golden syrup, chocolate chips. Whatever sweet stuff was going, all poured on thick. The outside was crispy and the hot gloop was about three centimetres deep in the middle. You couldn't eat one without burning your fingers.
'You better clean up afterwards,' James said. 'Mum blew her stack last time you made them.'
*
When James turned into his road it was nearly dark. Two guys came out from behind a hedge. One of them grabbed James and knocked him against a wall, pulling his arm tight behind his back.
'Hello, James,' he said, his mouth up against James' ear. 'We've
been waiting for you.'
The other guy grabbed Lauren and stuck his hand over her mouth to stop her screaming.
James' opinion of his own intelligence hit an all-time low. While he'd been worrying about getting in trouble with Mum, school and maybe even with the police, he'd forgotten something: Samantha Jennings had a sixteen-year-old brother.
Greg Jennings hung out with a gang of crazies. They were kings of the estate where James lived: smashing up cars, mugging people, getting into fights. If another kid saw them he'd look down at his shoes, cross his fingers and be happy if all he came away with was a slapped face and his money taxed. A good way to upset the gang was to beat up one of their little sisters.
Greg Jennings grazed James' face along the bricks.
'It's your turn now, James.'
He let go of James' arm. James could feel blood dribbling down his nose and cheek. There was no point struggling: Greg could snap him like a twig.
'Scared?' Greg asked. 'You ought to be.'
James tried to speak, only his voice didn't work and the way he was trembling seemed to answer anyway.
'Got money?' Greg asked.
James took out the rest of the forty pounds.
'Nice one,' Greg said.
'Please don't hurt my sister,' James begged.
'My sister has eight stitches in her face,' Greg said, pulling a knife out of his pocket. 'Lucky I don't go round hurting little girls, or your sister might have ended up with eighty.'
Greg sliced off James' school tie. Then he cut the chest buttons off his shirt and slashed up his trousers.
'This is just the start, James,' Greg said. 'We're gonna be seeing a lot of each other.'
A fist smashed into James' stomach. Ron had hit James a few times, but never that hard. Greg and his henchman walked off. James crumpled up on the ground.
Lauren walked over to James. She didn't have much sympathy for him.
'You got in a row with Samantha Jennings?'
James looked up at his sister. He was in a lot of pain and ashamed of himself.
'She got cut by accident. I only meant to scare her.'
Lauren started walking away.
'Help me up, Lauren. I can't walk.'
'Crawl then.'
Lauren went a few more paces before she realised she couldn't abandon her brother, even if he was an idiot. James stumbled towards home with his arm round Lauren's back. It took all her strength to hold him up.