A bit more of the tale of urban delinquency, based on the kids we see every day. Sorry it's taken so long, not enough hours in the day, or days in the week at the moment. There will be more, but it'll take a while.
Street Kids
11
Mum woke me with a cup of tea the next morning. I eyed it
suspiciously, guessing that it was hotter than the core temperature at
"Calm down, Anthony. You're not going in today." she said. "I came in and turned your alarm off earlier, after someone from the school phoned."
"What? Who? Why?" then I realised the night shorts weren't really hiding my morning hard-on.
I jumped back under my duvet and she sat on the bed to explain.
"The police are coming to see you this morning." She added, as if it were an everyday occurrence. I suppose I'm lucky it isn't.
"I haven't done anything!" I protested, but she was calm.
"Oh yes you have." she said. "You saved your friend's life."
"What the fu – er, hell do you mean?" I asked. I wasn't really awake yet, and this information was overloading my spinning brain.
"That Peter Mason boy." she said, frowning at my angry language. "If you hadn't got him an ambulance, he would have died from the drugs he took. That's what your Headmaster said, anyway. I suppose I ought to be proud of you."
"I don't think so, Mum." I said quietly. "I told you what happened."
"Quite. And I don't think you should say anything about er – that side of it when they come, if I were you." She continued.
"No." I agreed.
"They'll want to know where he got the drugs, and if you know, I want you to tell them, Anthony." she said.
"I don't, Mum." I said. I could probably guess, but I wasn't going to grass on Dan. He'll be in enough shit if they find out where Pie was all weekend.
"Well, at least you're sensible enough to stay away from them when they are getting drugged up." Mum said. I couldn't look her in the face and tell her it was just circumstance that I hadn't tagged along with them on Saturday.
"What about Ryan? Are you going to visit him again?" she asked.
"Oh, I don't know, I might at the weekend, I suppose." I said. I didn't intend to.
"I think you ought to, one evening. Straight from school, perhaps?" she hinted. Why was she trying to make me go? The kid was just a pain in the arse. "Maybe." I said.
"Anyway, you'd better get up. I want you neat and tidy for when the police come." she finished by saying, and went back downstairs.
They came early, while I was having a shower. I dressed in my school uniform and went down to face them. They weren't what I expected at all, a man about my Dad's age in plain clothes, and a younger woman in uniform. I don't suppose I was what they expected either. Neat and tidy? I can do it if I really have to.
They asked me if I knew what Pie had taken, but I didn't. I told them he'd said he had `a few pills', that was all I knew. Had I been with him over the weekend? I hadn't, I only saw him once in town, I said. Who had he been with, where had he gone, what had he done, lots of stuff like that. I said I didn't know. I doubted if they believed me. Then the woman cleared her throat and said "We know that Peter had sexual intercourse with another male recently, or rather he had sex with Peter if you know what I mean." I knew and I went red as a stop light. "We wonder if you know who that man might be."
"How do you know that?" Mum asked. I'd forgotten she was there, sat on the other side of the room.
"The hospital discovered he had anal bruising." the man said. "and there were traces of semen in his rectum."
I sat there stunned and embarrassed.
"Look." Mum said, "I know and it doesn't matter to me that Anthony is gay, and that some of his friends may be as well, but what are you trying to infer?"
The woman PC coughed and answered. "Just that if Peter was regularly using drugs, he might be getting them by allowing his supplier to have sex with him." she said. Mum looked unimpressed. "But if he is gay," she continued, "that might not be the case."
"It probably isn't." Mum said, sternly.
"You're only fourteen, aren't you Anthony?" the plain clothes bloke said, frowning. "I hope you're aware -" he stopped as the WPC elbowed his arm fairly hard.
I thought it was time to steer the conversation away from that subject. "When will he be well enough to come home?" I asked. The policeman shook his head and said "He's not going home. Not his old home, anyways."
My mouth fell open at that. "Why?" I asked.
The WPC took over. "His parents aren't there, Anthony. In fact, he doesn't know where they are. He told us they went away Friday morning, to visit some relatives in Glasgow, and told him they'd only be away a few days, then phoned him that night and said they were going to stay a bit longer, a week probably, and he's heard nothing from them since. We traced the relatives in Scotland, but they say they haven't seen them, nor did they know of any plans for them to visit. You wouldn't know where they are, would you Anthony?"
I had wondered yesterday where his parents were, the house had looked a real tip, as if he had been living on his own for a few days.
"No, I don't even know them that well." I answered truthfully. That explained the messy house, though.
"Well," the PC interrupted, "he can't be released until they're found. He'll stay in the hospital for now, and if they don't turn up soon, he'll go to a care home."
I was stunned at this news. Had Pie's parents abandoned him? I didn't know them enough to know if they cared about him, and he rarely, if ever, talked about them.
"We haven't come here to talk about him, though, Anthony. We need to know who is supplying these drugs to kids in this town. Is there anything you'd be prepared to tell us?" the WPC asked.
I thought for a moment. Honesty, or as close as I could get to it, was my best policy, I thought. Yes, OK, just this once.
"Look," I said, "I don't do drugs. Not the heavy stuff, anyway. I've had the odd joint -" I suddenly remembered again Mum was there, and she shot me a look which would have halted a herd of stampeding Elephants in their tracks "- but show me a kid that says he hasn't and I'll show you a liar. I won't touch anything stronger, so I don't need to know the suppliers. OK?"
"That's fair enough, Anthony." the WPC said. "We just want to catch whoever it is who's supplying kids with this stuff. If I read out some names, can you tell me if you know them?"
I shifted uneasily in the chair and hoped I wouldn't know any of the names.
She read them out, in alphabetical order. She might as well have read form the phone book, they meant nothing to me. Until –
"Simon Ronson?"
I didn't move, or say a word. But I shot a look straight in her eyes, and she was watching me.
A dozen or so more names were read out, then she said "Well, if you don't know any of them, we haven't made much progress I'm afraid."
I sat silently, waiting for them to go. The plain clothes bloke said something about drugs killing innocent kids, but I wasn't listening. I'd heard enough and wanted them to go.
"If there's anything you can tell us, we'd be very grateful." he said.
"You might even save someone else's life." the WPC added.
"Sorry, It's not my scene." I told them. "I don't touch drugs, so I've never needed to know where or who to get them from, honest."
There wasn't anything else to add, and the pair of them thought that they'd leave it at that. Mum and I stood to see them to the door, but the WPC held my arm and let Mum and the plain clothes bloke go first.
"How'd you know Simon Ronson?" she asked quietly, but firmly.
I didn't answer, so she added "We're watching him. We know he likes boys of your age. We might have to ask you to come down to the station to ask you about him, formally. Mum wouldn't like that, would she?"
"He lives close to one of me mates." I whispered to her. "He gave me a lift once, that's all."
She raised one eyebrow at the `all', as if to say `I know there's more'.
"That's all." I said, making the point.
"Just be careful, Tony. Stay away from him." she said.
"Anthony – or Ant." I corrected her crossly. "Not `Tony'."
I pulled from her grasp and led her to the door. A white police car stood outside our house, great, now all the neighbours know they've been, I thought. We watched them drive away and went into the kitchen. Mum glared at me.
"I don't know, honest, Mum." I said. "If I did, or if I find out, I'll tell them, OK?"
"Just remember that Peter nearly died, I don't want that to happen to you." she said, still glaring.
"Nor do I." I told her honestly.
Mum turned away and switched the kettle on.
"I'll have a glass of milk, please." I said. I didn't fancy a burnt mouth again.
`Simon Ronson.' I thought. I could guess why they were `watching him', they know of his likings for young boys. But why read his name out among drug dealer suspects? Perhaps he was, but his manner with me didn't suggest it. Surely he would have offered me drugs instead of money? And why was Mr. Terry talking to him yesterday? He didn't strike me as a likely friend of Simon's, I wouldn't think they shared the same interests – Mr Terry hated boys, anyone who sat through his lessons could tell that. The more I thought about it, the less sense it all made.
One thing was certain though, Pie was no longer on my list of those whose trousers I wanted to get into.
I drank my milk, and decided to do something useful with the rest of the day.
"I'm going back to bed, Mum. I'm knack- exhausted after all that."
"OK, Anthony dear." She said – as simple as that. No list of chores, `help me withs' or `oh no you aren'ts'. I escaped while I was winning, and ran up to my room.
I stripped off my shirt and trousers and climbed back into bed, but couldn't sleep. Something was wrong, and I reckoned it would affect me sooner or later.
I thought about how everything had changed recently, how complicated life had become since that incident with Rye and Dan. My secret was out, and Rye and Key and Pie and Jay weren't against a bit of mutual fun, but our group had fallen apart. No longer did we do the old stuff together, hang out on the corner, ride our bikes across peoples' gardens, pinch fags from the shops across town, get tins of lager and drink, sharing a joint Pie offered us round. Yes, OK, the phone box on Merton Street, that was us, too. Only eight pounds and a bit each when we shared it round, all in coins, too, hardly worth the bother – but it was the fun, the excitement of doing it – that was all gone now. Sex was thrilling, but fun was – well, more fun.
I realised I was stroking my cock while thinking all this, and I didn't want to. I wanted – fucked if I knew what, but not just my hand. I'd been content with it every day since I was, well, a long time now, but there had to be more. I've sampled life, and I wanted to leap into it cock first, and fuck my way to oblivion.
The memory of doing Rye behind the Gym block came into my head, and that was what I wanted. No, not Rye, silly little piece of shit he was, but sex – a good hard shag, sink my cock into some little kid's arse and blow the wad of my life up it. Little kid? OK, if I was going to be a pervert, I'd do it properly. I remembered the face of the little kid I'd raised my hand to when I chased them away to get Rye on his own, he'd do. I closed my eyes and fanticised.
It was good, daydreams usually are. You can make them what you want. The kid hadn't screamed, or fought to get free, he'd just knelt there on the anonymous bed and let me screw him. After it was over, and I'd cum so hard in him he squealed with pleasure, he rolled over and held his arms open for me to fall into.
"I love you, Ant!" he'd said, "I want you to love me like that over and over again!" and he'd leant forward to my face and kissed me.
I woke with a start, tightened my grip and leapt from the bed. I grabbed yesterday's boxers from the floor and let my cum surge into them, feeling grateful for the warmth of the orgasm and also for not soiling the bedclothes.
"I love you, Ant" rang in my memory's ears, and the look in his eyes burnt itself into my mind.
Love, I thought. Do I really want someone to be that dependant on me? I certainly didn't want to offer it back. Fuck it, I want sex, not mush.
I wiped myself on the boxers and pulled on my trackies and a hoodie. No boxers. I slipped my trainers on and went downstairs, to find Mum sat in the living room watching some soap opera on the telly.
"Just going for a walk, Mum." I said. "Clear my head a bit."
She turned round to face me in the doorway and replied, "Alright Anthony, I think that's a good idea." Not what I expected at all.
I buried my hands in the hoodie's pockets and walked along trying to clear my head. I didn't know what I wanted any more, I'd pushed my barriers further than I wanted to, and I felt out of my depth, alone and almost, if I cared to admit it, scared. It was all happening too fast. Why had Pie screwed up everything by being a druggie? Why was life just so fucking complicated?
"You hooking a day off too?" the voice made me jump. A boy, about my age, in white trackies and cap had walked up behind me. I recognised him vaguely, a kid from school perhaps?
"Yeah, stuff to do, at home, you know?" I said as a sort of reason.
"Yeah, I know!" he smirked. "Not at home, though, are you?"
This kid pissed me off, nosey cunt. I looked round both ways.
"Oh no, I seem to be out now." I said. Sarcasm, my greatest humour.
"Wanna hang out?" he asked.
"Not really." I said. `Fuck off', I thought.
"Shame." he said, and pushed a hand under his trackies waistband. I only watched for half a second, but he noticed. "I think my friend would like you."
"Friend?"
"Yeah, friend. I'm going there now, wanna come?" he said, kneading whatever it was he was holding in his pants. I took a guess at what it was.
"Where?" I asked. Fateful. He knew I was interested now.
"Not far. You'll like him, he's generous."
"Generous? What d'yer mean?" I asked, losing the plot.
"Twenty quid a time, more if you're good to him!" he said.
"Doing what?"
"Having fun!" he smiled. "Come on, he won't eat you, I've been lots of times!"
"What do you do?" I asked again, stupidly. He looked down, and I did too, to see the cloth of his trackies moving as he wanked a couple of times. "I know who you are, and what you do!" he said, grinning gormlessly.
I grabbed his trackie jacket. "Whadd'ya mean by that!" I spat. It scared him.
"I – I – somebody told me!" he stuttered. I pushed my face into his.
"Who?" I snarled.
"K-Kieran!" he gasped.
"Key? What's he say?" I snapped, a bit less threatening now, not much but a bit.
"Y-You an' he done stuff together!" he said. I let his jacket drop. "He an' me do, too." he added, trying to calm me, I suppose. "He lives next door." That explained a bit more.
"I'm Colin, Colin Sterling" he said, straightening his jacket. "I didn't mean to – you know."
"Colin, eh." I said. "How come I haven't seen you around? You don't go to our school, do you?"
"No, I go to a boarding school now. I'm home for mid-term break." he said, composing himself more. "We used to go to infant school together, but you and your friends didn't like me."
I did just vaguely remember him then, a loner, not mixing with us at all.
We started walking along together, not that I intended to accompany him, but just, well, I was intrigued. So was little Ant in my pants. "So what do these friends and you do?" I asked.
"Anything and everything, really. You'll have a ball!" Colin smiled.
"One of yours?" I asked playfully. Now I knew him a little, I could do him in a second!
"If you want." he said. "If I can have yours after!" he glanced at me and smirked. Little Ant grew down my leg. This kid was up for it, and I fancied some fresh meat!
He flashed his hand to my leg and caught a quick grope. "We're both big boys now!" he said.
We walked for about ten-fifteen minutes, not talking, and suddenly I recognised the street. I'd been here before, but from the other direction.
As I feared, Colin turned up Simon's drive. The battered Vauxhall was parked there, confirming all. I stopped on the pavement.
"Come on, this is the place!" Colin said.
"Simon Ronson's!" I said.
"You know him? Have you been here before?" Colin asked.
"I just know him." I said. I wanted to walk away, but there were questions I wanted to ask Simon, too, and they got the better of me. Colin pressed the bell push.
"Colin! Come in!" Simon said as he opened the door. "Oh - you've brought someone with you, have you?" he added as he noticed me lagging behind.
"Anthony? I certainly didn't expect you!" he said when he recognised me. "Come on in, there's always room for another!" he added, holding out a welcoming arm. We walked into the hall which was as untidy as his car, and Simon walked past us to the back room doorway. He stopped, turned to Colin and said "Come on in, Col. The friend I told you about last time is here and waiting to meet you!"
Colin swung his white cap round on his head, so the peak was at the back, and stepped into the room. "Hello!" I heard him say, to whoever was there, and I followed him in with Simon behind me.
I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw who it was and Simon bumped into me.
"Calligan!"
"Mr. Terry!"