Avilien

The man with the shiny head

A little while after Squeeks and Brit had screamed at one another, Squeeks retreated into her phone–her phone surprisingly posh. A gold plated Novak T11, there wasn't a better phone in the world. For the price you paid for one, you could buy a cheaper car. Nebs leapt off Luke's shoulder and into his scratched and banged up ancient relic of a phone, grumbling as he did. With the pair of game guides tucked away from the ominous stares of passersby, Luke walked the streets with Brit. It almost felt like a date to him and made him feel giddy inside. Brit was too eccentric for Luke's liking, though; she was madder than the hatter in a hat shop, and had more screws lose than a DIY store, but for all intents and purposes, she was a far cry better than Anna.

Crossing the road at the light, Brit took in all of what Islington had to offer—from the still-open restaurants to a small coffee shop. It was clear to Luke she wasn't from around here and no matter how many times he tried to start up a conversation, his lips wouldn't move. He felt like an idiot. Walking towards the old country road that would lead back to his house, Luke thought it might not be such a wise idea in the darkness. He always walked that path home, even though it was steeper. It allowed him to avoid Jayce, who also lived in the same cul-de-sac. Jayce lived on the opposite side of the road; in fact it was his mother's car that was dismantled by the corrupter earlier.

Small street lamps lit up the old worn road leading up the hill and part of the fields beyond them. With his head down looking at the floor and his hands in his pockets, Luke was thinking of anything of remote interest to say to Brit. She was happy looking at the sky and the stars and Luke, not wanting to make an obvious dumb statement about it, stayed quiet until he heard talking up ahead.

The only bench on the entire hill was occupied by a group of hooded figures who loitered around it and on the wall. Most dressed in black—they were not the type of people Luke wanted to run into, and could be considered worse than Lance.

"Let's turn back, Brit. I'll take you up the other route to my house," said Luke. He felt his hands shake as the group looked towards him and Brit.

Brit, who had been stargazing, looked towards the bench and saw the figures. She didn't understand Luke's reasoning at all. Up ahead were just people wearing hoodies, as far as she was concerned.

"Why? Is something the matter? Are you worried about them?" asked Brit. She sounded concerned for Luke and, not wanting to feel like a total coward, Luke gulped.

"No, never mind its fine." Luke's immediate thought after those words were prayers to not get harassed, or worse.

The group of five never took their eyes off Brit and Luke as they continued to walk up the path, but it didn't take long for one of them to wolf whistle at Brit and get her attention.

"He's a little young for you, isn't he, babe? Why not come and hang out with some real men?" said one of the lads, who sat on the wall above the bench and above one of his friends.

The other four laughed and Brit halted on the spot, forcing Luke to stand still, too. She had remained silent up until that remark.

"What's so manly about five wanna-be thugs? I can deal with getting whistled at, but I won't allow a friend of mine to be insulted just because he's like nine years old. Go do yourselves a favour and get a life," explained Brit.

"I'm thirteen," Luke muttered in a low voice as Brit started to walk off up the hill, leaving him behind.

All manner of horror was about to break loose now, thanks to Brit's ego-stabbing words. She may not have been aware of the situation, but Luke knew what was coming.

"Going to take that, Lewy? Letting a chick talk you down?" asked one of the lads on the bench as he pulled something out of his pocket and passed it to the lad sitting on the wall.