White Riot Read Online Free

something stopped him.
    Northumberland.
    He put his head up, thought back to a few weeks ago. Started rummaging through his jacket pockets, feeling the adrenalin rush building up again.
    It had better be there, it had better be …
    A few weeks ago. Who would have thought.
    A few weeks. Felt like a lifetime ago.
    ‘Oi, you. I know you.’
    Jason had been sitting at the foot of Grey’s Monument, waiting for something to happen, somewhere to go. His day off from the butcher’s, he had a bit of a buzz on from acouple of spliffs, a couple of rocks and was working his way through a can of Stella. An average day. He was going to see Kev later, see what was going on, maybe go to a meeting. Looking forward to that. But until then, just killing time. Watching the world go by, getting a bit of sun. Eyeing up the girls, pitying the office workers. Knowing everything they said and did and how they lived their lives was wrong, knowing he was right. He had the answers.
    Or he knew someone who did.
    ‘Oi.’
    The boy turned, looked at him. From the narrowed brow it was clear he didn’t know who Jason was, couldn’t remember him. But Jason remembered the boy.
    ‘’S’me. Jason.’
    ‘Yeah?’ The boy shrugged.
    ‘Father Jack’s, remember?’
    The boy turned pale. Jason didn’t think that would have been possible, the kid being black an’ all, but he did. He shouldn’t even have been shouting at a nigger in the street, at least not all friendly, like. Christ, he must be stoned. Or bored.
    The kid came over, looked at Jason.
    ‘Father Jack’s …’
    ‘The home.’
    The youth bridled. ‘Man, that was never no fuckin’ home.’
    The youth was big now, gangling. Must have been about fourteen at Father Jack’s then, looked about sixteen now, same age as Jason, but where Jason was still small the youth had shot up. But not just age; he carried himself well. Seemed bigger in many ways. Jason felt a hard shaft of something unpleasant strike him between the ribs. He didn’t know what. Anger? Jealousy?
    Jealousy? For a nigger? Yeah, right.
    ‘Yeah,’ said Jason. ‘I remember you.’ He thought hard for a moment, eyes screwed up. ‘Jamal, innit? Yeah. You moved in an’ everythin’ went tits up. Police there an’ everythin’. We all had to leg it, find somewhere else to live. Thanks to you.’
    Jamal looked at him, shrugged like he didn’t want to get drawn into talking to Jason but continued all the same. ‘Father Jack was one evil bastard, man, a fuckin’ pervert. Deserved to be turned over, you get me? Deserves his jail time. No question. Hope he’s gettin’ everythin’ due to him in there.’
    Jason’s fogged brain was having trouble following Jamal’s argument, tried to counter. ‘Yeah, but … wasn’t a bad place. Y’know. Just had to ignore some stuff, think of the good stuff. Was kinda settled there.’
    Jamal looked at Jason, compassion in his eyes. ‘Know what you mean, man. Comin’ up rough … it’s bad.’
    Jason looked hard at Jamal. The black kid was confusing him. He seemed genuine, concerned. They weren’t supposed to be like that.
    ‘You found somewhere else?’ The compassion still there.
    Jason’s eyes slowly lit up. ‘Yeah, did. Was shit for a time. But it’s awright now. Got some new mates. A job. Proper one, like.’ He couldn’t believe those words came from his lips. He smiled. ‘Yeah. Things are cool.’
    Jason involuntarily flexed his arms as he spoke, sending the new tattoos rippling over his scrawny little muscles.
    ‘Yeah, things are cool.’
    He saw Jamal’s eyes jump immediately to them, size them up, make a judgement. Jason felt confused again. Jamal should be showing fear; it was the correct response of the immigrant to the tattoos. He’d been told. But Jamal wasn’t scared of him. He took in the tats, the clothes, the haircut, his uniform, his tribal insignia and showed no fear. If anything there was pity in his eyes.
    Another hard, sharp shaft went through