I Predict a Riot

That’s when I started filming everything. It felt like my life had fallen to pieces, so I started watching the world second hand through the lens instead. I filmed meals, train journeys, my feet on the pavement, the leaves in the garden. I even filmed the TV while I was watching it. I stopped looking directly at anything. And it made life so much less sharp, less painful. And more beautiful.

At school it meant I didn’t have to talk to anyone. There’s not much to make a film about at boarding school so mainly it kept me safe, cut off. But in the holidays, when I came back to London, my mum worked all the time and my dad had moved to New York so there was nothing for me to do but make movies.

I saw the New Kid the next day, down at the library. He was in the teenage books section, curled up on one of the big armchairs with a pile of books a mile high stacked up next to him. I could see one of the librarians giving him a funny look, like he shouldn’t be there, like he didn’t belong. But he was so deeply engrossed in what he was reading he didn’t even notice.

It was funny, running into him like that – the sort of thing that normally only happens in the movies – especially since I realised I’d been hoping I’d see him again, the hero kid with the death wish.

I watched him for a bit, and it made me smile. He looked like he was miles away in his head, like he’d totally forgotten real life even existed. I don’t get that with books. Films, yes, but I’m dyslexic so words on a page jump around and won’t stick in my head.

The New Kid didn’t even notice when a group of mums and toddlers started gathering for a storytelling session nearby, until the librarian lady went over and asked him to move. Then he looked up like he’d just resurfaced from a deep-sea dive. His brown eyes were like wet, faraway pebbles.

‘Oh, yeah, right,’ he said. ‘Sorry.’ He scrambled up, gathered his books and made his way over to the front desk.

So I followed him. I didn’t film him, but I just sort of hung out nearby while he tried to check out his books.

‘I’m sorry, but if you want to register for the library you need to bring your parent or guardian with you,’ the lady behind the desk was saying in a posh, crinkly voice that didn’t really fit with the way she looked – lumpy cardigan, hair the colour of mildew, tired eyes.

‘But my mum works,’ the New Kid was saying. ‘She works, like, all the time.’

‘Your father then?’

The New Kid frowned when she said this. His pebble eyes went blank and I wished I’d been filming then so I could catch his expression.

‘No worries,’ he said, putting the books down on the desk and pulling his massive earphones back on to his head. ‘I’ll just leave it.’

He went out into the lobby then and called the lift. I kept following him, because he had somehow become the hero of my film and I needed to see how his story panned out.

The lift doors hovered open and I jumped in just before they closed. I stared at the New Kid’s feet, and his hands which seemed empty without a book in them.

‘Are you following me?’

I jumped. He was looking at me and I felt myself go bright red. The lift was probably halfway down. ‘No,’ I murmured.

He tugged his earphones off and looked at me even harder than before.

‘I saw you in the park yesterday, didn’t I?’ he said. ‘When it all kicked off. You were there.’

I could feel myself going pinker by the minute. I gave a sort of shrug.

The lift doors opened. We both hesitated, then the New Kid stepped back to let me go out first, like my dad always does. Did.

‘Thanks,’ I said quietly, avoiding his eye as we both stepped out into the lobby and headed towards the exit.

‘Seriously, are you some kind of spy or what?’ said the New Kid, when we reached the glass doors. He had a look in his eyes that might have been a challenge or might have been amusement.

‘Don’t be silly,’ I said. The words came out way posher sounding than I meant them to.

The New Kid gave me another weird look then turned round and shrugged as he stepped out on to the concrete outside.

Coronation Road Library is an award-winning design, my dad told me once. It’s built in the shape of a C – for Coronation Road – and it’s all multicoloured glass and chrome. Outside, in the curve of the C, is a courtyard scattered with these giant stone globes, some half submerged in the concrete, some barely rising out of the surface, and all covered in tiny multicoloured tiles. There are some strange metal benches that look more like sculptures than seats, and they’re dead uncomfortable. Some people hate that library – my mum included – but my dad and I like the shapes, the way they intersect with the sky and the rubble and the estate that runs for miles behind them.

The New Kid plonked himself down on one of the funny sculpture benches. ‘You want to join me?’ he asked, looking up and staring me right in the eye.

I hesitated for a second before I said, ‘Um, OK.’

So I perched next to him and we sat there, watching the pigeons and not saying much. He definitely wasn’t your typical hero, this skinny, smiley-faced bookworm, who went around saving kids from being stabbed in the park. But there was something about him, some kind of quality which seemed to shine out of him, even here, surrounded by litter and concrete.

‘Why did you do it?’ I asked.

‘Do what?’ said the New Kid.

I bit my lip nervously. ‘Um, help Little Pea in the park yesterday.’

‘Is Little Pea the boy with the big shoes?’

I nodded and waited for him to go on, but he didn’t, so I said, ‘So why did you then? Do it?’

He shrugged and looked up at the cloudless blue sky. It had been one of the hottest summers on record. There had been no rain for so many weeks that everyone had forgotten what a cloudy sky looked like. ‘Probably cos I’m an idiot,’ he said.

‘I thought you were brave,’ I said, feeling my cheeks burning again. ‘I never saw anyone stand up to the Starfish Gang before.’

‘Maybe. It was still stupid,’ he said. Then he sighed. ‘I promised my mum two things: to stay out of trouble and always brush my teeth.’ He turned to me with a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. ‘And what do I go and do? Get myself in a whole heap of trouble first week of the school holidays.’

I wanted to ask him why his mum made him promise to stay out of trouble, but I didn’t want him to think I was prying into his business, so I just said, ‘Your teeth look OK.’

He grinned with his big sunshine smile, properly this time, and I found myself smiling back.

‘Who did you say those other kids were anyway?’ he asked. ‘The ones who were beating on Pea or whatever you say his name is?’

‘The Starfish Gang?’ I said, staring down at my thin, grubby fingers. ‘And the boy with the knife is called Shiv. Shiv Karunga.’

The New Kid looked down at the tatty Vans on his feet and frowned.

‘You’re not from around here, are you?’ I said.

A shadow passed over his eyes and he said quickly, ‘It’s none of your business where I’m from.’

‘Sorry,’ I said quietly.

He sighed again. ‘No, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to bite your head off. It’s just . . .’ He hesitated, then said something I wasn’t expecting. ‘You filmed it all, right?’

My fingers curled tightly round the camera in my pocket.

‘I saw you with a camera so I figured maybe you filmed what happened.’

He was looking me up and down and I wondered what I looked like to him: a skinny, purple-haired girl with a face like a freckly elf, wearing an ET T-shirt, boys’ surfing shorts and massive cherry-red boots.

He had the kind of face you couldn’t lie to, so I just nodded.

‘You got it with you then?’

I pulled my camera out of my pocket and passed it to him, looking down at my hands again.

‘Cool,’ he said, checking it out. He flicked it on and pressed the play button. The footage I’d taken in the park yesterday appeared on the tiny screen and his own face came into view – close up, with that gutted-and-something-else expression I couldn’t make out.

His brow furrowed as he watched, but he didn’t say anything. He let it play for another thirty seconds or so then turned it off.

‘Yup, I’m an idiot!’ he said, handing it back to me. ‘So do you always go around filming people when they’re not looking?’

‘I didn’t exactly mean to,’ I said awkwardly. ‘I’m sort of making a movie.’

‘Serious?’ He looked genuinely interested.

‘There’s this competition,’ I found myself saying, ‘for young film-makers, and I want to enter it.’

I shrugged and looked down at my beloved cherry-red, steel-cap DM boots, with a sad face Tippexed on one foot and a happy face on the other. My mum hated those boots so I wore them every single day, even when it was blisteringly hot and my feet were totally boiling like they were that day. I think I’d have worn them in bed if I could.

‘What’s it about?’ he asked. ‘Your film.’

‘I’m not exactly sure yet,’ I said. My face felt as red as my boots. ‘I don’t really have a story. I just film stuff.’

‘What sort of stuff ?’

My toes wiggled uncomfortably. ‘Just stuff around here. The Coronation Road, the Starfish Estate. Inner-city kids living in parallel universes. That kind of thing.’

‘Right,’ he said, looking at me curiously for a second. ‘Um – why?’

I scrunched up my toes some more. If I told him the whole story, I’d have to tell him about my mum, and about dad leaving and everything. So I just said, ‘I don’t know really. It’s just what there is around here.’

He grinned again unexpectedly. I figured if anyone’d been filming us right then we’d have looked an odd couple. Then he said something else I wasn’t expecting. ‘I could help, you know?’

I tried not to look as freaked out as I felt when I said, ‘Really?’ But I don’t think I exactly managed it.

‘Yeah. I like stories. Words, you know? Maybe I could help with that bit.’

‘Right,’ I said, chewing my lip some more.

‘And my mum said to keep out of trouble,’ he went on. ‘So maybe I can help you keep out of trouble too? Cos, you know, it’s really not a good idea to go around filming guys like Shiv.’ His eyes clouded a little as he said the last bit.

The Tippex faces on the toes of my boots seemed to wink up at me. ‘My dad reckons filming keeps me out of mischief,’ I said.

And I remembered the ‘chat’ we had on the day he walked out. ‘Keep filming. Keep out of mischief. Look after your mother for me,’ he’d said, like he was just going away on holiday, not leaving us for good. Then he’d given me one of his big hugs and walked out of the door.

‘Yeah?’ the New Kid said, giving me a funny look like he was trying to read the thoughts in my head. ‘Well, maybe we can do it together. Look out for each other, you know? And make a movie at the same time.’

I looked really hard at him, disbelieving suddenly. Why did someone like him want to hang out with me? ‘Seriously?’

‘Sure,’ he said. ‘You do the pictures, I do the words and we both do the film-star bit!’

I smiled and twisted my fingers tightly round the camera. The sun was shining on the New Kid’s face, making his chocolate skin glow and his Afro hair look like a halo round his head.

‘So what’s your name, director girl?’ he asked.

‘Maggie,’ I said. Then I added quickly, ‘Only that’s not my real name.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘OK . . . um, what’s your real name then?’

‘Emmeline Margaret,’ I said quickly. ‘My mum thought I might be the pioneering type. You know, like Margaret Thatcher or Emmeline Pankhurst, the suffragette lady. Only nobody’s ever called me that. They just call me Maggie.’

‘Right. Well, Maggie’s a good name. Suits you.’

‘Thanks,’ I nodded.

‘I’m Tokes,’ he said. ‘Just Tokes.’

And then the New Kid – who was called Tokes, just Tokes – smiled. And I think maybe that’s when we first became friends.

SCENE 4: OUTSIDE THE LIBRARY

‘You are so dead!’

We both turned round and there was Little Pea, scrambling out from behind a load of wheelie bins and skipping towards us across the concrete. He had a brand-new black eye, but he was grinning widely. When he reached us, he did a little ballet hop then jumped to a standstill in front of our bench.

‘Seriously, you pair is already in body bags, innit!’ he squeaked with a flick of his head like he was performing a girl-band dance routine.

‘Right,’ said Tokes as Pea jiggled on the spot in front of us. ‘And there’s me thinking you’d come to thank me for saving your skin yesterday! How did you even find us?’

Pea giggled and flicked his head again, but didn’t answer Tokes’s question. ‘Like I’m gonna thank you for jumpin’ off a cliff an’ takin’ me wit’ you,’ he said, talking in his too-loud, too-fast, little-kid voice.

I looked at his black eye and wondered if any of the things I’d heard about him were true – the stuff about the jungle magic and juju and his mum trying to beat the devil out of him in church.

‘Your girlfrien’ tell you who you mess wit’ yesterday, man?’ Pea was saying, nodding and winking in my direction.

‘She’s not my girlfriend,’ said Tokes, shooting me a quick look.

‘If you say so!’ Little Pea just winked at me again and said, ‘Anyways, she probably already tell you that you nearly got me killed wit’ your meddlin’.’

‘Way I remember it, I rescued you from Shiv,’ said Tokes. He spoke differently when he was talking to Pea. He sounded more, I dunno, like a kid from the streets rather than a guy who read piles of books in a library.

‘I had it all under control!’ said Pea breezily.

‘Sure you did, kid,’ said Tokes.

‘Hey! Who you callin’ kid?’ Pea was still grinning like a maniac, and pretending to punch the air like a boxer. He seemed to be totally enjoying this. ‘Don’t you know to judge a man by his shoe size, an’ these takkies tell you I twelve years old, man. Nearly a teenager me, innit.’

Tokes raised an eyebrow in surprise as Pea waggled his fake Nikes in the air, but he said nothing.

‘How old is you anyway, alien boy?’ demanded Little Pea.

‘I’m fifteen,’ said Tokes. ‘And I’m no alien.’

‘Well, you like an alien in this hood, bruv!’ said Pea. ‘Anyone can see that. An’ you gonna get yourself killed too if you keep takin’ on da locals. Which hood you from anyway?’

‘None of your business,’ said Tokes quickly. Too quickly, just like he’d jumped down my throat earlier when I’d asked the same question.

‘Hey, don’t go chewin’ my head off, space boy!’

‘Tokes,’ I said quietly.

‘You what?’ said Pea, turning to me again with a funny little head movement. Honestly, I’d never seen a kid as fidgety as he was. Like a toddler, or a dog with fleas. ‘You say summat, posh girl?’

‘His name is Tokes,’ I said. ‘And I’m Maggie.’

Little Pea gave us each a look then folded up with giggles. His laugh was high-pitched, like a little girl’s. ‘An’ I’m Little Pea, es-quire, at your ser-vice,’ he said with a low bow, followed by a bit of a moonwalk. ‘What kind of stupid name is Tokes anyway?’

‘No more stupid than Little Pea!’ Tokes retorted.

‘Hey! Pea is short for Paris!’ Pea went on. ‘My mamma, she wanted to name me after Michael Jackson’s kid. Only she got da girl’s name by mistake.’

‘Really?’ I said.

‘You think I gonna lie to you ’bout my own name?’ he said, with a hint of a challenge in his voice. ‘It ain’t every twelve-year-old midget can carry off a girl’s name an’ still stay mega-dope cool like me! Be-lieve!’

‘Pea’s good,’ said Tokes with a shrug. ‘It’s . . . enigmatic.’

For some reason the long word didn’t sound odd coming out of his mouth. He made it sound like a jewel, multicoloured and shiny and perfect. But Pea was looking at him suspiciously. I guessed not many people used big words around Pea. Or said nice things to him for that matter.

‘You swallow a dictionary or summat?’ he said.

‘He likes books,’ I said quietly.

‘Oh yeah!’ said Pea, his face lighting up like a Christmas tree suddenly. ‘An’ you like movies, innit.’

‘What?’ I said, flushing hotly.

‘Yeah, I see you, all lights, camera, action! in da park yesterday!’ Pea lurched back into another moonwalk with a massive grin. ‘Hey! How cool was Shiv’s face when Mr T-bone here had him against da wall?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘You think nobody clocked your little filmin’ stunt?’ said Little Pea. ‘Cos these eyes see everyt’ing, I tell you! Figure you don’t want me to tell Shiv ’bout it, am I right?’

‘No, she doesn’t,’ said Tokes.

‘Cos you know you gonna get yourself a ticket to da morgue if you keep filmin’ da Starfish boys, right?’ said Pea, looking straight at me with his eyes that flickered and danced as much as his crazy feet.

‘That’s what I told her,’ said Tokes quietly.

‘If Shiv find out you got footage of da T-man disrespectin’ him, he ain’t gonna be best pleased. Mr Shiv value his hard-man rep-u-ta-tion! An’ you, boy, you already got a price on your head for dissin’ da Shiv-man on his turf,’ said Pea, grinning at Tokes like he’d forgotten it was all his fault Tokes was in trouble in the first place. ‘So, if Shiv find out ’bout Spielberg’s little film, she good as dead, innit.’

‘Nobody better tell him then, had they?’ said Tokes.

‘Ex-act-ly!’ whispered Little Pea loudly. ‘Bes’ keep it on the down-low. All hush-hush an’ that, right?’

‘Right,’ said Tokes. He gave Little Pea a look, and Pea met it with a grin that didn’t promise anything.

‘Hey! I real good at keepin’ secrets!’ Pea insisted. ‘You see me in da park – even when I got a knife in my face I don’t spill.’

‘Spill what?’ I said.

‘Wouldn’t you like to know!’ said Pea, with a shimmying shrug. ‘If I got intel, I ain’t gonna reveal till it worth my while. That’s all I’m sayin’.’

‘So what’s it gonna take for you to keep quiet about this then?’ said Tokes.

Pea ignored him and turned to me. ‘Way I see it, you wanna buy my silence you gonna have to let me star in your film, innit.’

Tokes looked at him suspiciously. ‘How do you even know she’s making a film?’

‘Ain’t nuttin’ happen in Coronation Road wi’out Little Pea got his eyes on it,’ Little Pea said, his face gleaming.

‘So you were spying on us? Listening into our conversation?’

‘I can’t reveal my sources!’ said Pea with a big grin.

Tokes shook his head and Little Pea went on excitedly, ‘But I wanna be one of them reality TV stars. Only Way is the Starfish, Made in Coronation Road – that sorta thing!’ He looked at me and I couldn’t help thinking that people would totally want to watch him. It was hard to take your eyes off his weird twitchy body and his crazy, mad-as-the-moon little baby face.

‘Seriously?’ Tokes said. ‘That’s what you want in return? To be in our movie?’

‘Da Pea wants what it wants.’ Pea shrugged. ‘I got a good backstory too.’ He kept glancing at me, grinning like we had some kind of secret between us. ‘I ’spect you heard that I’m possessed by da devil, right?’

Tokes raised his eyebrows.

‘She knows, innit,’ Pea said, turning to me. ‘Everyone round here knows I got da devil man in me bones. I got da scars to prove it too.’ He lifted up his top to show his torso. It was etched with more of the tiny scars he had on his face, as well as round red patches. I imagined tracing the indentations with the camera, focusing in on the raised white scar tissue.

‘Who did that to you?’ Tokes demanded.

‘Like I say, I only reveal intel when I ready!’ Pea quickly tugged down his top with a sly grin. ‘But I got other stuff for your film too,’ he said. ‘You know anyt’ing ’bout gangs, alien boy?’

Tokes’s brow furrowed. ‘Yes,’ he said quietly, his eyes suddenly unreadable again. ‘I know about gangs.’

‘Well, there gonna be gang war in Coronation Road real soon,’ Pea said with a manic grin. ‘You hear ’bout Shiv’s cousin Pats, yeah? He got seriously mashed yesterday, an’ now he in hospital with a cracked skull an’ punctured lung. Shiv say they gonna stick da villain what done it,’ Pea went on. ‘Or shoot his fool head off. An’ they not kiddin’ neither. Tad got him a shooter – I seen it.’

‘Right,’ said Tokes, his eyes faraway again like he was remembering something.

‘And I know who did it!’ Pea announced triumphantly.

‘So you did see it happen?’ I said.

Pea glanced around him, like he was playing spies or something, then he whispered loudly, ‘I tell you – Da Pea see everyt’ing!’

‘So why didn’t you tell Shiv?’ said Tokes. ‘He had a knife against your throat.’

‘I had it all unner control!’ said Pea. ‘Until you come along and nearly got me killed. I was gonna tell Shiv who hurt his cuz when the time was right, innit.’

Tokes shook his head in disbelief. ‘So did you?’ he asked. ‘After we left, did you tell him what you saw?’

‘I mighta dropped a few hints!’ Pea giggled. ‘Either way, it not gonna stay secret long. Not around here. Then it all gonna kick off like you would not believe. An’ then you gonna have a well good story for that film of yours, I’m a-tellin’ you.’

I glanced at Tokes who just rolled his eyes.

‘Why?’ I said.

Pea smirked and his eyes twinkled like he had the most delicious and dangerous secret in the world.

‘All I gonna say is this is so much bigger than anyt’ing what ever happen in Coronation Road.’

‘What’s that got to do with her film?’ Tokes asked.

I glanced at him. His eyes had the troubled look I’d seen in the park.

‘Cos it gonna be movie gold, man!’ said Pea. ‘You win an Oscar filmin’ this. It gonna be da war to end all wars.’

Tokes sighed. ‘I’m supposed to be staying out of trouble,’ he said.

‘Well, mebbe you shoulda thought of that before you take on Shiv in da park, man,’ said Pea with another giggle. ‘But since you was tryin’ to help out Da Pea – stop me from turnin’ into a mushy pea – I’m givin’ you a tip-off. An’ cos you new round here and I kinda like you, even though you a crazy fool.’

Tokes rolled his eyes. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘Look, I’ve gotta go.’ He turned to me with a question in his eyes, like he was saying, ‘You coming or what?’

‘Mebbe I come wit’ youse,’ Pea cut in, his voice anxious suddenly, like a little kid who’s desperate to be friends. ‘Hangin’ out wit’ a pair of future corpses should be fun, innit.’

Tokes frowned again and I got the feeling that he didn’t like this, but then he hesitated and glanced at the ground, as if he’d remembered something again.

‘Sure,’ he said reluctantly. ‘Just don’t go expecting me to rescue you next time.’

‘You a funny man!’ said Little Pea with a pleased grin spreading over his face. ‘I can handle myself, innit. Don’t need no one to rescue Little Pea.’ He was defiantly hopping on one leg and flinging a few upper-cut punches into the air in front of him. ‘I look out for myself – always have. Ain’t no one gonna mess wit’ me!’

‘If you say so,’ said Tokes.

‘Come on then!’ said Pea. ‘Let’s make a movie.’ He grinned at me like we were best friends suddenly. ‘An’ mebbe, just mebbe, if you treat me nice, I tell you da biggest secret in Coronation Road.’

SCENE 5: CORONATION ROAD

So that’s how the three of us ended up walking up Coronation Road on a boiling-hot day in August. Tokes went striding ahead like he was already regretting saying Pea could come, while Little Pea skipped along at my side.

‘Nice hairdo,’ he said, smirking. ‘Same purple rinse as my granny!’

I felt the colour rising in my cheeks.

‘Like the boots too,’ he said. ‘You do dem yourself ?’

‘Did you do your trainers yourself too?’ I muttered, nodding down at his fake Nikes.

‘Ooh, the white film chick got attitude!’ he said, clicking his fingers excitedly.

I looked at him and he looked at me and he held my gaze, his eyes sparkling with mischief. Then he giggled. ‘You know I got what it takes to be a film star, dontcha? Even if alien boy don’t recognise my star quality yet.’