and they all stood in a huddle. James split from the older lads and jogged towards them, with Max in tow.
‘Hey,’ James said. ‘Everything OK?’
Hannah looked edgy. ‘We were just waiting for you two to get back before we split. You know what that lot are like. They’re bound to start something.’
‘Shall we go to the youth centre?’ Liza asked.
A skinny girl called Georgia tutted. ‘That place is so lame. Ten-year-olds yelling their heads off and chasing around with ping-pong bats. Let’s just hang out on the estate.’
‘Yeah,’ Max nodded. ‘Grosvenor kids won’t come near our estate.’
‘How come?’ James asked.
Max giggled. ‘ ’Cos they’d get battered.’
‘Where do you want to go, James?’ Hannah asked.
‘I dunno,’ James shrugged. ‘Whatever you guys do, I guess. I don’t know what goes on around here.’
‘Diddly squat’s what goes on here,’ Liza snorted. ‘Saturday night’s so rubbish. I can’t wait till I’m old enough to go out clubbing and stuff.’
‘And get off with some nice fit bloke,’ Georgia giggled.
‘Trust you,’ Hannah said, as all three girls broke into fits of giggles. ‘At least I’ve got James, he’s lovely.’
James slipped his arm around Hannah’s back, glad that she wasn’t holding a grudge from earlier.
‘Sounds like you’re all having fun,’ a deep voice said.
James turned to find that two of the thugs from the other estate had come up behind them. The taller one had a wispy teenage beard. Both had the broad shoulders and muscular arms of the kind of people who are better not messed with.
‘You know what? I’m parched,’ the bearded one rasped, rubbing his hand over his hairy throat to emphasise his point. ‘I couldn’t help noticing that you’ve got some cans on you and I thought you might like to share.’
‘Just a couple of tins,’ his mate added.
Max scowled at them. ‘Why don’t you buy your own, instead of poncing?’
The bearded kid looked at his mate and shook his head. ‘Was that very nice, calling us ponces?’
‘I’m wounded,’ his mate grinned, as he pointed at Max. ‘You know who this one is? His dad’s that fat blob who owns the King Of Russia.’
‘A whole pub full of booze and he won’t spare us a couple of tins. Come on, hand ’em across.’
Max backed up as the shorter thug lunged at his carrier bag.
‘Leave off,’ Max juddered. The fear in his voice was obvious.
‘Aren’t you a brave boy?’ the beard giggled.
Hannah tugged at James’ arm and whispered in his ear. ‘They’re massive. It’s not worth getting done over for a few cans of beer.’
After wrecking his life with the last punch he’d thrown, James felt inclined to swallow his pride. He reached into the bag and snapped two cans away from the plastic binding strip.
‘Take ’em,’ James said sourly. ‘On me.’
‘How about the whole sixer?’ The big dude grinned ungratefully. ‘I’ve worked up a thirst and I really didn’t like your chum calling me a ponce.’
‘Or maybe you’ll be wanting a slap,’ the shorter one added, as he stepped forward so that his chest almost touched James’ nose.
‘Give it up, James,’ Hannah said desperately, as she backed away.
But the sudden change in terms gave James a nasty feeling that the two lads now required more than beer. Max had offended them and James suspected the thugs wanted to humiliate them in front of the girls.
If he offered more beer they’d probably ask for something else, like his money. And once he gave that up, they’d probably still give him a slap for his trouble. James reckoned he was going to have to stand his ground sooner or later, and it might as well be sooner.
‘You know what?’ James said, trying to sound cool. ‘I tried the peace offering, but now you’re getting zip.’
The thug in James’ face stepped back to take a punch, but as soon as he kicked off, James grabbed his T-shirt with both hands, tugged him forward and nutted him. The thug stumbled backwards, then crumpled up in the grass clutching a bloody nose.
The one with the beard dived in and tried grabbing James around the waist. James intercepted the arm and wrung his adversary’s elbow into an excruciating lock.
James had no idea if the other two boys from the Grosvenor Estate were about to join in. He couldn’t risk a four against one situation, which meant he had to take at least one opponent out of the equation. He yanked the thug’s arm straight, then thrust a palm into the back of his elbow, tearing the tendons and splintering