MirrorMirror

48 / The Rebel and the Paws

Fuck and Fish Face jumped to their feet.

"You do? And you're only just sharing this with us?"

Cassidy realised he was shouting and looked around apologetically. No one had taken any notice. There weren't enough people in their immediate vicinity to worry about, and those who were had their heads in their phones or their earphones in their heads.

"Why didn't you say?"

"I didn't know if I was going to say anything at all. I don't know if it's a good idea to confront him."

"Of course it's not," said Cass. "It's a shit idea. But we're going to do it, anyway."

"What if she's right?" Ethan said, laying his hand on his brother's back. "We should be careful."

"For fuck's sake, you two. We do need to be careful. I'm not stupid. But we have to go and talk to him. Tell him what we know."

"And then what?" Jazz asked. "What you gonna do then?"

"I don't know! How the fuck do I know? It depends on what he does, doesn't it?"

"OK, so he admits it all. Or he drags us into his house and murders us, too. Or he's the nicest guy you can imagine, and it's all lies. What will you do then?"

"Jazz, calm down," Ethan said. "You don't need to be so shitty about it. We need to talk this through, not kick off about it."

"I'm not kicking off. I'm trying to tell him he needs to take a minute. We don't know this guy. Nothing about him."

"You used to know him."

"I did, emphasis on the did. I don't know him now."

"What are you kiddies talking about? I hope you're not arguing."

The three turned, each recognising the voice, though for different reasons.

"Hello, Wendy," they said in unison.

Cassidy wasn't the only one who knew the old dear. Ethan had once delivered newspapers on the same round as his younger brother. Wendy had been happy to chat to him and gave him a whole 50p every week, and sweets with it on Sundays, when the papers were twice as thick, thanks to the plethora of supplements that had to be delivered along with them.

Jazz knew Wendy too.

When Cassidy and Ethan's sister was fourteen, she was starting to rebel. Or trying to. While her friends were allowed to stay out a half hour later, Jazz had to leave them behind and return home. She would make excuses, such as having to babysit the boys or period pains. They knew the truth, however. Jazz thought her parents were too strict, while her friends thought theirs weren't strict enough. They would have preferred their mums and dads to lay down the law a little more. It would show they gave a shit.

Not all of them were like that. Gwen, a slim girl who was always cold, would go to the park after she was meant to be in bed. She knew enough to not venture there after dark, but evening could still be a risk. Gwen thought risk added a sense of fun to life. It meant she would stay alert. She'd watch out for undesirables. She'd be fine.

Jazz wanted to be like Gwen. She wanted to live a little closer to the edge. Things were too good. Too nice. Too safe. If Gwen could do as she wished, albeit without her parents' knowledge, then why couldn't Jazz?

Jazz had sneaked out. She was trusted, so there was no reason to question her when she had complained of a headache and said she wanted an early night. Within half an hour, she was at the park. Within another ten minutes, a group of boys she didn't recognise had latched onto her and were trying to steal kisses and gropes.