Gypsy Girl (5 page)

But that’s Rocky. He gets his own way with everyone – except for me. It’s my mission in life to not give in to him, even though I used to dream about me and him being together.

When he saw me he whistled loudly and bounded over.

“Sammy-Jo! Here’s my girl!”

He has plenty of girls after him the whole time, gorjer girls as well as Traveller ones, but everyone always says that me and him would be perfect together. He knows my rule – that I’ll only go out with a boy who can beat me in a fight. He’s the only one who’s ever offered to have a fight against me. And I refused.

Because he’s the only boy who might beat me.

“It’s ages since I’ve seen you,” he said, giving me one of his special brilliant white smiles. I think he gets his teeth whitened at the Smile Centre a bit further down the high street.

“It was at your sister’s wedding a few months ago, that’s all,” I told him, staying on the back of the bench. “And I’m not your girl. You don’t want me as your girl.”

Beryl and Queenie could wish as much as they wanted, I knew the sort of women he liked, and it wasn’t me.

His beaming smile never dimmed.

“You know what I mean, Sammy. It’s just my way of greeting you.”

“Well, don’t. Now go away.”

I stuck my foot out and pushed him away. He laughed, grabbed it and pulled. But he forgot it was me. I kicked and got myself free and tried to kick him again. It didn’t put him off. He skipped out of the way and jumped up and sat on the bench next to me, resting his arm on his knee, just so I could notice the expensive watch around his wrist.

“What you doing out here on your own?” he said.

“Getting away from Beryl. She still thinks I should marry you.” I gave him a crafty look. “But then I’d find out what you do when you go off on your mysterious trips to London. I’d know your secrets.”

He smirked. “What do you think I do?”

A couple of times when I’d come over to visit me sisters, I’d seen him sitting in a car with a woman, older than him, with spiky, blonde hair, dressed in a leather jacket and her arm flung along the back of the seat behind him. I never told anyone. I didn’t want to get him into bother with his father. But she wasn’t a Traveller woman, and she was too old for him. I reckoned Beryl or Queenie had seen her, too.

I shrugged. “Maybe you’re secretly married to a rich older woman with a BMW who buys you expensive watches.”

He threw his head back and laughed. “I knew you’d seen me. That’s my probation officer. That’s Miss Stroud.” I didn’t believe him one little bit. “And I don’t need anyone to give me money. I’ve got my own.”

He took my hand. I let him. “And talking about marriage,” he said, turning it over and dabbing a finger at a long, thin bruise on the inside, just above my wrist. “Have you been fighting before the wedding? Nobody wants a bruised and battered bridesmaid…”

The bruise was courtesy of Maori Boy, and it was the only strike he managed to land. I should’ve been more careful. But Rocky wasn’t finished with me yet. He let go of my hand, fixed me with a look and said, smugly, “Gypsy Girl.”

If he’d smiled like that at any of the girls sitting on the bench, their knees would’ve gone weak. Mine didn’t. I didn’t even blink. My face never betrayed me at all. Gypsy Girl. He’d emphasized it. My secret fighter name. Coincidence? I hoped so. But he’d never said it before.

“Huh?” I said, keeping my face blank. “Why’re you smirking? Why’re you calling me that?”

He flicked a strand of hair back in place. “I heard someone talking about girl fighters, and they mentioned one who they all call Gypsy Girl. They said she was the best.” He grinned. “So I thought of you.”

“Well, you were wrong, as usual. Must be someone else. I don’t fight in competitions any more. I’ve won everything I can for now.” I flicked my hair back and smiled at him. “So, mind your own business … Gypsy Boy.”

He laughed again. But neither of us said any more. He had secrets, I had secrets. I stole a quick glance at him. I used to imagine him kissing me, his rascally eyes looking into mine, his lips coming closer as he leaned towards me. I tried it again, but all that happened was his face was replaced by another, one with sun-bleached, fair hair that wasn’t cut perfectly and amber eyes that drank in everything.

Gregory Langton’s face. And I hadn’t imagined it. He was actually here, hurrying down the high street. He was with Cooper, the dark-haired boy I’d seen him with earlier, and this time there were two girls as well. Gregory had his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched, laughing at something one of them had said. He saw me straightaway, and his smile got broader. I gave him a wave, a tiny lift of my hand. He waved back, the smallest of movements.

“Who’re you waving at?” asked Rocky, looking round. “Him? Langton?” He gave a tut. “He’s a wuss.”

“You know him?”

He held out his hands as though he was embracing the whole world. “I know everyone.”

One of the girls, the one nearest to Gregory, had noticed his wave and turned to see who it was aimed at. She had super-shiny, fair hair that swung from side to side as she walked, a cutesy, flat face like a Persian kitten, a boring sundress, bare shoulders and flat ballet shoes. When she saw he’d waved at me, she said something to the other girl, who glanced back and laughed slyly. As if that bothered me.

Rocky was watching me as well, his handsome head tilted to one side, his annoying smile getting broader.

“Jeez, I’d love to know what you were thinking just then, Sammy-Jo,” he murmured.

“It wasn’t about you,” I said, quickly.

He carried on looking at me. “So have you knocked any more girls out these days?”

I knew what he meant. It’s why my father’s glad there’s no more under-eighteen competitions for me to take part in, because I’ve won them all. I’m too strong. But the knock-out didn’t happen in a competition. It was in the street. A girl got hurt. I never meant it to happen, but it did. It was kept quiet, so I don’t know how Rocky got to hear of it.

“It’s none of your business what I do.” I jumped off the bench. “So shut up.”

Which made him laugh because he knew he’d rattled me.

I rounded on him, hands on me hips. “Haven’t you got anything better to do except hang around here? You’re the best man. You’re supposed to be helping Tyson, not going on at me.”

Luckily, there wasn’t time for him to argue because we both saw his brother coming out of Hollisters with a carrier bag. I took hold of Rocky’s arm and gave him a push towards Tyson.

“See! That’s what happens when you’re not watching him. You’ve got to get him out of here quickly. Sabrina’s nearly finished. She’ll be coming out any minute. Tyson mustn’t see her!”

Rocky looked at me suspiciously. “Why? I thought it was only unlucky for them to see each other on the day of the wedding? We’ve got three days to go.”

He was right, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. I wanted to get rid of him, so I gave him another push. I could see the girls on the bench watching us. “It’s only half as unlucky, but it’s still bad enough! And she doesn’t want him to see her new nails.”

No one likes to risk bad luck, not even bad boys like Rocky. He gave me a cheeky salute. “Are you going to meet me later? People are talking about you, Sammy-Jo, and I want to know what it’s all about.”

I shooed him off. “No, I’ll see you at the wedding.”

He shrugged his shoulders, and, with only the quickest glance at the girls on the bench, he hurried away to meet Tyson. I watched them walk down the high street, and wondered about Rocky calling me Gypsy Girl. Somehow he’d heard whispers about me, which was dangerous. I’d have to avoid him and his questions, but it was going to be difficult. I was chief bridesmaid, and he was the best man.

By the time they were out of sight, Sabrina still hadn’t finished, so I decided to go and get her earrings. I knew what she wanted and which shop sold them. I started walking past the hooded, feral boys by the clock tower. I knew they were watching me. The feeling of danger had faded as I talked to Rocky, but now it came back and I got that fizz of adrenaline again. I ignored it and them and sailed past. I had better things to do than waste my energy on thugs like them.

Just off the high street there’s a tangle of little streets called the Lanes. I headed there and found the jewellery shop where Sabrina had spotted her expensive wedding earrings. They were in the window: two sparkling cascades of crystals, like miniature chandeliers. I got my phone out, and I was texting Sabrina to meet me here when goosebumps broke out all over my arms and my skin began to tingle.

Something was going to happen.

Running feet pounded the pavement behind me. I spun round. One of the feral boys from the clock tower was running straight at me, his arms outstretched like battering rams, his hands in fists. He hit me hard in the chest, flinging me back against the shop window, his foot coming up and smacking into my ribs. My phone sailed out of my hands, and in one quick move he picked it up and disappeared down the alley at the side of the shop.

Three seconds and it was all over. I’d been phone-mugged.

Did he really think I was going to let him get away with it?

I was wrong. It wasn’t a phone-mugging.

That was just to get me to run down the alley after the thief. As I chased him to the dead end at the bottom, I heard footsteps behind me. I glanced back. Blocking the entrance to the alley were his two mates, heads shaved, fists up, faces leering. They were older than me. They’d taken off their hoodies and were wearing tight black T-shirts that showed off their biceps. I’d had trouble with boys like this before, the ones who wore their shaven heads and black clothes like a hate uniform.

I made a quick check back to the phone-mugger. He was coming up the alley towards me, laughing. There were high walls on either side. They knew I was trapped, so their eyes were gloating. Three against one – the sort of odds they’d like.

I backed against one wall, so I could keep them all in my sight. I’d been stupid. I shouldn’t have gone running down an alley full of empty cans and bottles wearing me high-heeled ankle boots. I can fight in heels, but it’s not easy. I couldn’t even kick them off, because there was broken glass everywhere.

“Wait,” I said, holding my hands out, as though appealing to them. “You can keep the phone.”

They liked that. Thugs always like to see fear in their victims’ faces. They were stalking closer, as dangerous as bombs ready to go off. I could hear their excited breathing. Their faces were as pale as boiled potatoes. They saw my long, dark hair with the new highlights of copper, honey and toffee I’d had done for the wedding. They saw my little cut-off top that stopped a long way from the waist of my tight jeans, showing off my tanned belly. They saw my heels. Their faces were cruel and excited, their eyes going hot as they imagined what they could do to me.

They thought they knew what I was like, but they didn’t.

“We don’t want the phone,” sniggered the phone-snatcher. He was the tallest, and the other two kept looking at him, so he must have been the leader. Maybe it was the haircuts, but they all looked similar, like they were brothers.

“What do you want, then?” I said as they surrounded me.

The leader spat on the ground, his eyes burning with hate. “We want you gone. Out of this town. Bitch.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“You’re one of the Travellers.”

“So?”

“So you don’t belong here.”

“Says who?”

“Says us.”

I got in a stance, one foot forward, one foot back, balancing myself, moving from the wall, spinning round slowly, keeping them all in sight. I raised my clenched hands. They glanced at each other, grinning, and came at me, hands reaching, grabbing, snatching at my clothes and hair.

Bad move.

They were rubbish. They might have been able to bounce round on their toes and throw a few kicks, but they had no fight skills, except for a bit of basic tae kwon do. They’d probably had two or three lessons and decided they knew it all. A few seconds into their attack, I got a kick in that hit the leader in the face and knocked him back. He roared like an animal as he staggered and held his face.

“Bitch! Get her!”

The other two came at me, vicious as pit bulls. I danced back, keeping them at bay, waiting for my chance. One of them grabbed for my hair. And missed.
Bam bam
. I gave him a kick to his chin and another where it hurts most. He rolled into a screeching ball. No time for cheering because the second one was in my face, his hands clawing at me.
Bam
. He went down to my strikes as well, shaking his head. He tried to get back up, so I clapped him hard on both ears with cupped hands and he fell back, dizzy and deafened.

Now it was just me and the leader. Me bouncing on my toes, even in heels, and the leader swaying, snarling, his chin dribbling blood where I’d kicked him. He’d seen his two mates floored, and he’d lost it, all caution had gone. He just wanted to beat me up.

He came at me fast and tried a kick to my face. Wrong. Fast as lightning, I grabbed his foot, yanked it up and twisted. It was all over in a split second. His feet left the ground, he yelped and went down hard on his back, knocking the wind out of him. He lay gasping, his eyes confused. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I’d turned his little world upside down. He should’ve looked at my eyes before he decided to attack me. They’re dark grey, and when I’m angry they go as cold as the North Sea.

I rested my spiky heel on his chest and felt in his pocket for my phone. Something moved at the extreme of my vision. More of them?

“Sammy-Jo!”

My heart still sank. Sabrina was standing at the top of the alley.

“What?”

“Come on!”

I kept my heel pressed down. “But these boys—”

“Leave them be! You know Daddy told you not to cause trouble for us.”

True. He’d never let me fight outside the gym, even if it was for all the right reasons. He avoided using his own fists, even though he could beat most men he met. He would go crazy if he ever found out that I fought in places much more dangerous than this.