open windows. The driver was a fat young man in a sleeveless T-shirt and sunglasses who I recognised as Robbie Dean. The girl beside him in the passenger seat, chewing gum, was his younger sister, Angel. Just as I was thinking to myself â oh God, what do they want? â Bill leaned out of the back window with a huge grin on her face.
âHey, Cait!â she called out. âCaity! Come on!â
I looked at her in disbelief. What the hell was she doing with the Deans? What was she playing at? I glanced with embarrassment at Simon. Heâd shrunk into his coat and was doing his best not to look too uncomfortable. I wanted to say something to him, but I couldnât think what.
âCome on , Cait!â Bill yelled, swinging open the car door. âMove your ass, girl!â
âIâd better go,â I mumbled to Simon. âIâll see you on Friday, OK?â
His eyes remained fixed to the pavement as I walked across to the booming car, took a deep breath, and got in.
âBetter than the bus, eh?â said Bill, lighting up.
We were racing across the Stand in a choking haze of cigarette smoke and perfume and deafening drum beats.
âWhat?â I shouted.
âBetter than the bus!â she shouted back.
âYeah ⦠great.â
She offered me a cigarette. âWant one?â
âNo, thanks.â
âWhat do you think?â
âWhat?â
She turned to face me, hands on hip, striking a pose.âWhat do you think? Do you like it?â
It was a tight red strapless top, an unbelievably short two-tone skirt, and a pair of metallic grey ankle-strap shoes with three-inch platforms. With her streaky-blonde hair slicked with gel, crimson lipstick, and full-on eyes, she looked like an eighteen-year-old princess on a girlsâ night out.
âVery nice,â I told her.
She slapped my thigh. âI see you made an effort â hey, Angel, didnât I tell you? Angel?â
The girl in the passenger seat turned to face us, snapping her gum and looking me up and down with a cold stare. She was sixteen, going on twenty-one. Curly peroxide hair, painted blue eyes, with lips like Madonna and an attitude to match. âYeah,â she said, fingering the top of her sheer white sun dress. âVery sweet. They go for that.â
I lurched to one side as the car swung out to pass a stream of traffic on a narrow hill, then lurched back again as Robbie pulled over just in time to miss a double decker bus trundling down the hill on the other side. Tyres squealed. Horns hooted. Robbie grinned and stuck a finger out the window, shouting, âUp yours!â
Angel laughed, then leaned across and whispered something in his ear. Robbie grunted, and I saw him adjust his sunglasses and glance at me in the rear-view mirror. I looked at Bill for support. She was checking her lipstick, brushing cigarette ash from her skirt, rolling her head to the beat of the music. She winked at me.
I settled back and stared out of the window, consoling myself with the thought that the journey wouldnât last for ever.
As we approached the roundabout at the edge of town, thetraffic got heavier and the car slowed to a crawl. For the last few minutes Angel had been fiddling around with a packet of cigarettes and a jigsaw of cigarette papers, and now sheâd lit the joint and was leaning back with one arm dangling from the open window, sucking the smoke down into her lungs. Why sheâd waited until we reached town, and why she was making such a big deal out of it, I didnât know. I assumed it was meant to impress me. After a few more puffs, she twisted round in her seat, wiggling her bum all over the place, and passed me the joint.
âNo, thanks,â I said.
ââS all right,â she sneered, âitâs only a bit of blow.â
âI know what it is â I donât smoke.â
âItâs grass , girl. It wonât kill you.â
She was