down this quiet back street?
That decided it.
I broke into a run along the pavement towards a back alley that snaked behind the houses to the next street. If I sprinted through there, hopefully I could lose him on the other side. But he
didn’t speed up. I looked back. No, I wasn’t wrong. He was walking. Had I got it wrong? Was I seeing things?
Someone stepped directly into my path. I ran straight into him and would have gone flying if he hadn’t grabbed me.
‘Thanks,’ I said breathlessly. ‘That was –’
He grabbed my other wrist and dragged me towards him. Realizing the danger I was in, I stamped on his foot, trying to free myself. I work out enough to have muscle power, but this guy was
strong. I couldn’t see much of him. He was wearing a hoody. A black hoody, with his face covered. The other guy from the park!
Out of the corner of my eye I saw the guy in khaki jogging up to join us. I kicked, trying as hard as I could to wriggle free. He let one of my arms go. Then his free hand punched me in the
stomach. My body doubled up. Somehow the impact sent my glasses flying and I heard them clatter on the pavement. I stopped fighting. The other guy drew near.
This is it, I thought.
‘It’s in my bag,’ I said. ‘Go on, take it.’
The guy in khaki pulled the bag from my shoulder and turned it upside down. My purse, Oyster card, phone and all the other stuff I kept in there tumbled out. He grabbed the phone and flipped it
open. I wanted to ask what it was he hoped to find. But even more I wanted to get out of this in one piece. So I stayed quiet.
After what seemed ages, he chucked the phone away. It skidded across the pavement and over the kerb.
‘Yep. She’s not got it.’ he said. He sounded young, local. Rather like everyone at school. The only difference to his voice was a hard edge. One that said,
Don’t
mess
.
The other guy pushed me against the alley wall. Pain whammed up my back.
‘Your mate. Where is he?’
‘Which mate?’
That earned me another jab to the stomach.
‘No jokes. You know.’
They could only mean Sam. ‘Don’t know. No one does. Honest to God. He’s taken off.’
‘Don’t lie. Where’s he gone?’
‘If I knew, I’d tell you!’
I sounded scared. Scared enough for them to exchange a glance. Then the guy in front of me leaned in close. I caught a snatch of blue eyes above the scarf covering his face. A stale smell clung
to his clothes, the kind that hit you when you passed a grimy pub.
‘Listen up, Imogen Maxwell,’ he said. ‘You want to avoid trouble, you keep quiet. Same goes for your posh little mate. Tell him to give over what he’s got on us, fast.
Cos wherever he is, he ain’t gonna be able to hide forever.’ He drew back, letting me go. ‘Wanna know why?’
He paused. Realizing what he wanted, I said, ‘Why?’
‘Cos if he don’t play along – you’re the one who’s gonna get it. And your little brother. And one more thing . . .’ The guy leaned in again, even closer.
‘There are a lot of things we could do to ruin the life of a pretty girl like you. Know what I mean?’
I nodded. His face was almost touching mine. Very quietly, he said, ‘
Good
.’
For a second I thought worse was coming. But after a tense moment they swaggered off. They didn’t even look back. They knew I was no threat to them. I slid down the wall, my bruised
stomach throbbing.
After a while I felt together enough to feel around for my glasses. One lens was shattered and the other had a huge crack across the centre. I realized that one of the arms had
bent too. It would be easier to buy a new pair than get these repaired. These frames were fashionable ones – they’d been expensive. I didn’t want to go back to wearing my grotty
old pair. The fact that they’d broken something so essential, that meant something to me . . .
Fighting tears, I gathered my other belongings. Apart from a scratched screen my phone was still working. ‘She’s not
That decided it.
I broke into a run along the pavement towards a back alley that snaked behind the houses to the next street. If I sprinted through there, hopefully I could lose him on the other side. But he
didn’t speed up. I looked back. No, I wasn’t wrong. He was walking. Had I got it wrong? Was I seeing things?
Someone stepped directly into my path. I ran straight into him and would have gone flying if he hadn’t grabbed me.
‘Thanks,’ I said breathlessly. ‘That was –’
He grabbed my other wrist and dragged me towards him. Realizing the danger I was in, I stamped on his foot, trying to free myself. I work out enough to have muscle power, but this guy was
strong. I couldn’t see much of him. He was wearing a hoody. A black hoody, with his face covered. The other guy from the park!
Out of the corner of my eye I saw the guy in khaki jogging up to join us. I kicked, trying as hard as I could to wriggle free. He let one of my arms go. Then his free hand punched me in the
stomach. My body doubled up. Somehow the impact sent my glasses flying and I heard them clatter on the pavement. I stopped fighting. The other guy drew near.
This is it, I thought.
‘It’s in my bag,’ I said. ‘Go on, take it.’
The guy in khaki pulled the bag from my shoulder and turned it upside down. My purse, Oyster card, phone and all the other stuff I kept in there tumbled out. He grabbed the phone and flipped it
open. I wanted to ask what it was he hoped to find. But even more I wanted to get out of this in one piece. So I stayed quiet.
After what seemed ages, he chucked the phone away. It skidded across the pavement and over the kerb.
‘Yep. She’s not got it.’ he said. He sounded young, local. Rather like everyone at school. The only difference to his voice was a hard edge. One that said,
Don’t
mess
.
The other guy pushed me against the alley wall. Pain whammed up my back.
‘Your mate. Where is he?’
‘Which mate?’
That earned me another jab to the stomach.
‘No jokes. You know.’
They could only mean Sam. ‘Don’t know. No one does. Honest to God. He’s taken off.’
‘Don’t lie. Where’s he gone?’
‘If I knew, I’d tell you!’
I sounded scared. Scared enough for them to exchange a glance. Then the guy in front of me leaned in close. I caught a snatch of blue eyes above the scarf covering his face. A stale smell clung
to his clothes, the kind that hit you when you passed a grimy pub.
‘Listen up, Imogen Maxwell,’ he said. ‘You want to avoid trouble, you keep quiet. Same goes for your posh little mate. Tell him to give over what he’s got on us, fast.
Cos wherever he is, he ain’t gonna be able to hide forever.’ He drew back, letting me go. ‘Wanna know why?’
He paused. Realizing what he wanted, I said, ‘Why?’
‘Cos if he don’t play along – you’re the one who’s gonna get it. And your little brother. And one more thing . . .’ The guy leaned in again, even closer.
‘There are a lot of things we could do to ruin the life of a pretty girl like you. Know what I mean?’
I nodded. His face was almost touching mine. Very quietly, he said, ‘
Good
.’
For a second I thought worse was coming. But after a tense moment they swaggered off. They didn’t even look back. They knew I was no threat to them. I slid down the wall, my bruised
stomach throbbing.
After a while I felt together enough to feel around for my glasses. One lens was shattered and the other had a huge crack across the centre. I realized that one of the arms had
bent too. It would be easier to buy a new pair than get these repaired. These frames were fashionable ones – they’d been expensive. I didn’t want to go back to wearing my grotty
old pair. The fact that they’d broken something so essential, that meant something to me . . .
Fighting tears, I gathered my other belongings. Apart from a scratched screen my phone was still working. ‘She’s not
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