Face (4 page)

‘You can,' she insisted.

‘Don't be silly.'

Martin put the can to his mouth and took a really big gulp before he handed it to Natalie. ‘Just have a sip, it won't hurt you.'

Natalie took a small sip and passed it on to Naz.
Naz took a sip and passed it on to Mark. And so the two cans circulated around the group before ending up empty on the ground. Martin drank a lot. Mark tried to look like he had drunk a lot. Matthew drank very little and Natalie had two minute sips. Soon Martin was really getting into the music, and now he was not just watching but admiring some of the dancers on the floor. He noticed that Natalie and her friends were happily dancing away as if they had been friends for years.

Martin couldn't contain himself any longer. He turned his basketball cap backwards and hit the dance floor. His head was doing fine, on the beat every time. Now he had to get the rest of his body to work. He started with a stepping backwards and forwards movement which worked – he looked around to make sure no one disapproved. From there he added a sideways step that seemed to work, and he continued with a one, two, forward, a one, two, back, one, two, left, one, two, right trip which meant that he commanded even more space and still no one complained – the fact that he got the room he needed was a sign that he deserved it. After a minute he realised that he had to do more, it was becoming a bit routine and his hands weren't doing much, so he took all the steps and applied the chaos theory, going forward, then left, then backwards, then left, then forward, then right, any way at all. Then he put his hands in the air and …
PANIC!!!
No one else has their hands in the air,
he thought.
Do I look like a raver? I don't want to look like a raver in here
. At this point he noticed a couple of people looking. His hands were still in the air but he didn't want his concerns to be known, so he moved his hands from side to side and whilst he was doing that he lost the rhythm in his feet.

Now he really began to panic. He screamed internally,
Oh, no, I look like Cliff Richard, I'm dancing like my parents.
The more he tried to return to his credible steps and find something useful to do with his hands, the more he thought he'd lost it.
No, they're looking at me
, he said to himself.
What can I do with my hands?

In front of him he saw somebody dancing and adding gymnastic moves to the dance.
That's it
, Martin thought,
I can do that
. His feet found the rhythm and he chose his beat well. When it hit he went down for the splits and bounced back. It worked. He counted in his head,
one, two, three
and lounged forward as if he was going to fall on his face and at the last minute he put his hands forward to cushion himself. Now the other gymnastic dancer noticed and came to dance in front of Martin, copying his moves and falling at his feet. The crowd made a space and Martin realised they were now the central attraction. The boy went down into the splits position and put both his hands on the floor to his left, then he bounced again, bringing his hands to the right as he
came down, then he rolled forward head-first on to his feet, and as he landed he was still dancing with his hands on his hips.

The crowd clapped. Martin looked around and there was Marica, Natalie, Naz and Teen bopping to the beat and looking on. ‘Go on, Martin, do ya stuff,' came a shout from behind. It was Mark.

Matthew stood silent, suffering from disbelief. Martin dropped into the splits with his hands to the left, then to the right. He then put his hands one to each side and picked himself up. After a little fancy footwork he dropped down again, spun himself around and rolled forward head-first on to his feet. This was enough to get the crowd going, but then to everyone's astonishment Martin moonwalked backwards, took two steps forwards and somersaulted. He landed perfectly, finishing in a muscle man pose.

The crowd loved it, they cheered and reached out to touch the two dancers. The two dancers slapped hands in the air and went their separate ways. It was a friendly competition and not a word had been passed between the two dancers. There was rapturous applause from the crowd and Martin, now the cool white brother, had earned some respect.

Natalie and her friends made their way back to their corner. The Gang of Three followed after Martin had received all his congratulations and what felt like a hundred pats on his back. Natalie was
speechless – less than two hours ago he didn't like rap. In the past when she saw him dancing he looked as if he was being forced – now he was the star of the show.

Marica didn't know all this of course. ‘Hey man, ya didn't say ya boyfriend was a dance champ.'

Martin decided to be honest. ‘I can't dance, I'm just good at gymnastics.'

‘I've got over a hundred witnesses, you just rocked the house,' Marica shouted.

It was Naz and Teen's turn. Martin couldn't tell who was saying what as the compliments rained down on him.

‘Yu bad guy.'

‘Yeah man, ya wicked.'

‘De cool ruler.'

‘Cool and easy does it.'

Martin was on top of the world. Going from a nobody to being the main attraction had done his ego a world of good. His credibility was sealed and Natalie was proud of him.

Matthew looked at his watch. It was now after midnight and he was beginning to feel tired. He was never much of a clubber and even though he was enjoying himself, his eyelids were beginning to feel heavy. He was sitting at a table with Mark. Martin was still standing, nodding his head and trying desperately to understand what these rap lyrics meant. The alcohol did not help him to make out what all these
American rap artistes were saying.

Matthew was beginning to really feel the pressure. The noise and the smoke were getting to him but he didn't want to spoil it for the others.

Then he heard a voice from behind. ‘How ya doing, mate?'

Matthew turned and looked behind him. It was a man who he did not know, with a tattoo on his neck and short blonde hair. He was dressed in a brown three-piece suit and the first thing that came to Matthew's mind was the heat.
How could he stand it in that suit?

The man leaned down to Matthew until his lips were almost touching his ear. ‘I got Es at prices no one can beat and if you're into a bit of coke or smack, give me fifteen minutes and I can do ya a bargain.'

Matthew looked around him. In the corner the girls were dancing and all smiles, Martin was into the beats and Mark was practically asleep. Matthew stood up. ‘Piss off, mate.'

‘Who ya talkin to?' the pusher replied.

‘You, ya bastard. Piss off.'

The pusher put his hand in his pocket and they looked into each other's eyes. Matthew was scared but he had to stand his ground. He thought the pusher could have a knife or even a gun in his pocket – or he could also be calling his bluff. They stared each other in the eyes for twenty seconds. The pusher was the
first one to look away, checking to see if they had been noticed by anyone else. All around them life carried on as normal. ‘Don't mess with me, schoolboy, cause I don't mess. I cut flesh like you!' he said with a menacing growl.

Matthew still wouldn't back down. ‘Piss off.' The pusher turned away and disappeared into the crowd.

Matthew stood up. He pushed Mark, startling him, ‘Get up, come on.'

Then he walked over to Martin. ‘Come on, I'm going.'

Martin was confused. ‘What's happening, man?'

Mark was just as puzzled. ‘I dunno, I ain't done nothing.'

The three went to get Natalie, who tried to convince Matthew to stay but he wouldn't. He would only say that
he would tell them later
. Marica, Teen and Naz sensed that something had happened to cause them to act this way but they weren't going to ask questions now.

‘Listen,' Marica said, ‘we be down here next week so come down if ya can, check some more grooves. Weekdays sometimes we out by the chicken shop. Stay cool.'

‘See ya,' and Natalie followed the boys out of the club.

Martin, Mark, Matthew and Natalie headed down the street in silence for a while until Natalie opened the debate. ‘I was enjoying dat, good club dat. What's up with you lot?'

Matthew told them the story of the drug pusher. Martin reminded him of something that he had said earlier. ‘Well I told ya, there are druggies everywhere.'

‘Yeah,' Matthew replied, ‘but this guy was a creep and I was tired and I wasn't in the mood for geezers like that.'

As they continued to walk, Martin's dance routine became the main topic of conversation. ‘I wasn't sure of that place at first,' Martin confessed as if no one had known. ‘But it's OK – I'm into those rap beats.'

Natalie was pleased with herself. ‘I knew you'd like it,' she said as she linked her arm into Martin's. ‘I had a great time – I'll be back.'

When they arrived at the top of Natalie's street,
Mark and Matthew waited on the corner while Martin walked her down a little. He had to make sure she got home safe but he also had to make sure he got his goodnight kiss. At a convenient spot he stopped. He had done this before but he still didn't know what to say, so he said the first thing that came into his head. ‘Where do ya mom and dad think you are?'

‘Well, I told them I was going to the Unity with some girlfriends, ' she grinned.

Martin wasted no more time. He reached round the back of her head, pulled her towards him, and kissed her. But it wasn't a real kiss. All he was doing was putting his lips against hers and pushing. There was no tenderness at all.

Natalie tolerated it for a few seconds and then pushed him away. ‘I told you, you can kiss me if you ask first.'

Martin was panting. He had been holding his breath while kissing, now he was out of breath and overexcited. ‘OK, OK den, gissa kiss.'

He kissed her again. This time she took control and put her tongue in his mouth. Martin started to run his hands through her hair, then up and down her back, and then his hands headed in all directions as if desperately seeking lost flesh.

‘Ouch,' Martin shouted down Natalie's throat. Natalie had stamped on his foot. Martin spoke, even though they were still connected at the lips. 'What
did you do that for?'

‘Stop ya from going too far.'

Mark and Matthew were on the corner, observing the ritual whilst trying not to be caught looking. Natalie and Martin struggled on, but it was too much for Martin. Soon the tongue went to his head and off went his hands again.

‘OUCH!' This time it was the other foot.

Natalie pulled away. ‘I've got to go now. I'll ring ya tomorrow.'

Martin pleaded, ‘Gissa nother kiss.'

‘I'll give ya a kiss tomorrow if ya teach me some of them dance moves.'

‘Yeah, it's a deal, ya got yourself a deal there, girl.'

He kissed her hand and watched her open her front door and enter before he moved off up the road where he found Mark and Matthew acting as if they had seen nothing.

The Gang of Three decided to cut through the Monega Estate in order to get back on to Green Street. It was now one o'clock and the big boys were out.

The Gang of Three knew this estate well. In the 1970s it used to be a good-looking estate where people wanted to be but now it needed some attention. One of the high-rise buildings had no entrance doors on either the front or back. Like thousands before them, the gang just walked straight through. Martin glanced
at the stairway as he passed and in a split second he noticed condom packets and glue containers on the steps. As they came out of the rear door space, used needles left by drug addicts lay on the floor. Martin crushed one under his foot.

Matthew was disgusted. ‘I wouldn't even step on one of them – say if one went through your sole? Could give you AIDS.'

As they walked through the centre of the estate, they heard the sound of screeching tyres, the sound of a car being raced. It was just a block away and they could smell the burning rubber. The sound moved away from them but then they heard the car turn, and the sound started heading their way. All three stepped on to a square paved area in the middle of the road where two of the small estate roads met and where once a bollard had stood. Then out of the dark they saw a set of headlights approaching. The lights were on full beam, so they couldn't see the make of the car or the driver, and it was coming fast and revving hard. The car went past the three, just missing them, then turned back towards them. Martin looked up at the high-rise flats and was amazed to find that there were no angry tenants cursing out of their windows. Mark was fearful and Matthew was just aggravated.

The car pulled up at the side of the concrete island. The smell of the burning tyres entered their nostrils and caused all their eyes to water. The sound of the
engines revving up made all three cover their ears for a moment, until the driver let the engine tick over.

A shout came from the car. ‘Martin, Mark!'

Martin bent down to look at the vehicle. He didn't recognise the driver.

‘Martin, man, it's me, Pete.'

Martin looked into the front passenger seat and then saw the face behind the voice. It was Peter Mosley. He used to go to Eastmorelands School and was a member of the Big Six gang then. Now he was a member of the Raider's Posse, a gang known for their outlawish activities.

Matthew bent down and looked into the car. ‘Why yu mekin up so much noise in people's ears?'

The car was a red Ford Escort. The driver, who was unknown to the three, looked older than Pete. Pete was always out with older members of the gang and had a reputation for carrying all sorts of weapons. Pete shouted, ‘Come on, let's go riding.'

‘Nah, we're going home,' Martin replied.

‘Come on, man, have wheels, will travel.'