Chapters (88)
- Cover
- Title Page
- Dear Reader …
- Also by Robert Muchamore
- PART ONE
- Walter J Freeman Adolescent Mental Health Unit – East Grinstead, UK
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- PART TWO
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- PART THREE
- Walter J. Freeman Adolescent Mental Health Unit – East Grinstead, UK
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- PART FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- SIXTY-ONE
- SIXTY-TWO
- SIXTY-THREE
- SIXTY-FOUR
- SIXTY-FIVE
- SIXTY-SIX
- SIXTY-SEVEN
- SIXTY-EIGHT
- SIXTY-NINE
- SEVENTY
- SEVENTY-ONE
- SEVENTY-TWO
- SEVENTY-THREE
- EPILOGUE
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- Have you read KILLER T?
- 1 SLASHED RUBBER
- 2 NOT HARRY POTTER
A beatbox was blaring Breez 99 FM. Duke located its owner in a bare-concrete room. The room fizzed with flies as plastic-gloved hands dug offal out of a drum and dropped it into a line of feeding bowls.
‘Skater boy!’ a zookeeper shouted over his radio. ‘Who is this friend with the bloody leg?’
‘George, this is Julius,’ Duke introduced as he peeled a pair of 
200 notes from his pocket. He was wary of touching the keeper’s gory glove as he handed them over.
There was an awkward pause, until George glowered at Julius.
‘This place isn’t cheap to run,’ he noted forcefully. ‘Meat costs money.’
Julius realised he was expected to pay something for the right to skate. The etiquette for bribes was for hands to work while faces pretend nothing is happening.
Two hundred naira was less than the price of a Coke. People kept low-value notes rolled up in front pockets or handbags, ready to slip into the hands of cops, thugs, government officials and anyone else who had a little power over your existence. There was never a thank-you or any other direct acknowledgement, though you’d soon know if you hadn’t paid the going rate.
Julius had nothing in the front of his shorts and grew flustered as he dug a wallet from his back pocket. His smallest note was a thousand and he blurted, ‘I hope that’s not too much,’ as he handed it over.
The zookeeper pushed the 1,000 into his bloody apron, then looked at Duke and erupted in a volcanic laugh. ‘What the hell is this fellow?’
‘His family are big men,’ Duke said, laughing as Julius felt mortified. ‘He’s not used to dealing with little people like us.’
‘Is that right? Julius, you’re a big man?’ George teased. ‘Get that wallet out in front of people, it can get snatched from your hand in one heartbeat.’
Julius got more embarrassed and Duke kept laughing as they stepped back into sunlight.
‘It wasn’t that bad,’ Julius protested.
‘Sorry,’ Duke said, with a grin that showed he wasn’t. ‘It’s wrong to laugh at the social awkwardness of the rich and extremely fortunate.’
‘Screw you,’ Julius said, before launching a gentle kick at his friend’s butt.
Duke dodged the flying sneaker, then randomly broke into a sprint back up towards the tower.
Julius couldn’t go beyond a fast limp with his gashed knee. As Duke vanished into the weeds, Julius’s mind went back to when they’d been staring at each other.
Why did I freak out and stand up when I wanted him to kiss me so much?