Printable version
Jerome and Deon were cycling across Hackney
in east London.
They were going to their friend's house to do some studying for their
school exams. 'Deon, did you hear about the Hacker Boys?'
said Jerome
to his friend.
'What? They are that Hackney gang,
right? Yeah... they stabbed
some
thirteen-year old kid last week, didn't they?.'
'Yeah bro,'
Jerome added, 'put that kid in hospital, cut him across the face six
times, and I do not want to run into
those boys. They are mental,
so I brought a knife with me for protection.
Just
in case.'
'Jerome! That's a bad idea. If the police catch you, you'll be in so
much trouble. And if your mum find's out, she'll kill you!'
'I don't know who is more scary, the Hacker Boys or my mum!' The two
friends laughed.
Their route
took them across a large park. The park was part
of the Hacker Boys' turf
and Jerome and Deon kept looking around to
check the gang wasn't there. Suddenly, there was a
hissing noise. Deon
had ridden over a piece of glass and his bicycle got a
puncture. 'Oh
no!' he
yelled, 'Jerome, stop! I've got a puncture.'
The two young men stopped and looked at Deon's tyre.
They couldn't
repair it so they would have to push their bicycles the rest of the way
to their friend's house.
As they were walking along they passed by two girls sitting on a bench.
They were about fifteen years old and pretty. Jerome smiled at them and
said, 'Hello ladies. How are you today?.'
One of the girls looked angry and said, 'Who are you? I don't know you.'
'I am only being friendly,' said Jerome.
The girl sneered
at him and said, 'If my boyfriend sees you, you're a
dead man.'
'Who's your boyfriend,' asked Deon.
'He's one of the Hacker Boys. Have hou heard of them?'
Deon
sounded scared. 'Look, we don't want any trouble. We were just being
friendly.'
The other girl had been texting
on her mobile phone. She looked up,
laughed and said, 'I just sent a text to my boyfriend. I told him you
two were giving us trouble. You had better run before they come and cut
you up.'
Jerome and Deon ran as fast as they could; pushing their bicycles out
of
the park.
Outside the park was an industrial
estate. As it was a Sunday, almost all the buildings
were closed, and the whole area was very quiet. 'Do you know where we
are?' Deon asked his friend.
'No, I don't. I'm a bit lost. But maybe we can get out the other side.
They continued through the lonely area. Then up ahead they saw four
teenage boys also on
bicycles. 'Oh no! We're in trouble,' Deon was now very scared, his
heart beating fast
The two friends turned around and started back the way they
came. But in front of them, blocking
their way, were six more boys,
aged between fourteen and nineteen. There was noway to escape.
'Jerome,' said
Deon, 'your bike still works, so you can escape and get the police.'
'I can't leave you. You're my best friend.'
'Just do it man. If you don't go, then we'll both be in worse trouble.'
Jerome thought for a second then jumped onto his bike. He took his
knife from his jacket pocket and gave it to Deon, then rode away as
fast as he could. Some of the gang chased him on their bikes, but four
of them surrounded
Deon.
"This is the six o'clock news.... Today, in Hackney, a fifteen year-old boy was stabbed and killed in a gang fight. he was killed by a single pucture wound to his heart. He died at the scene. Another boy is in hospital in a serious condition. Police say that the fight involved the Hacker Boys gang and a young man from Stratford."
It is six-thirty pm and two police officers are standing
outside Deon's mother's home.
She has just watched the news and is worried about her son, who has not
come home. She sees the police officers and knows something terrible
has happened to her son. She starts crying and cannot open the door, so
Deon's younger sister Marcia opens it. 'Can we speak to your mother,
Mrs Stewart,
please?' asks a police woman.
Marcia says nothing but shows the police officers into the kitchen
where Deon's mother is waiting. 'You here to tell me my poor son is
dead?'
she asks.
'I'm happy to tell you that your son is alive Mrs Stewart.
But I'm sorry to tell you that we have arrested
your son for the murder
of
another boy.'
'No! My Deon is a good boy. He never gets into fights. He was studying
for his exams. There must be a mistake. It must be a different boy, not
my Deon. You're wrong. It's not him, it's not him. He's a good boy....'
Adjectives
mental:
Here meaning 'will do bad things easily'.
terrible:
Very bad.
Verbs
stab:
To use a knife by quickly pushing the end into something.
yell:
To talk in a very loud voice, to make someone hear you or because you
are angry.
sneer:
To smile or speak in a way that shows you do not like someone and have
no resect for them.
text:
To send a text message by using a mobile/cell phone.
block sb.s
way:
To stop someone from going where they want by standing in front of them.
escape:
To leave a place of danger or difficulty.
surround: To
make a circle around something.
involve:
To include in an action.
arrest:
When the police catch a person and take them to the police staion.
Nouns
Hackney:
An area of London.
a hacker:
Here meaning 'someone who uses a knife by making violent cuts without
control'. Also here meaning 'connected to the area of Hackney'.
a gang:
A group of people who do bad things together.
bro:
Short for 'brother' and used to mean 'my friend'.
protection:
Something that stops harm, damage or illness.
a route:
A way to get to a place.
turf:
A slang word meaning the area of a city that a gang controls.
a hissing noise:
A sound made by air quickly coming out of a small hole.
a puncture:
A small hole made in something.
a tyre:
(AmE='tire'). The black rubber around a wheel.
a bench:
A long seat, often made of wood.
an industrial estate:
An special area of small factories and warehouses with roads.
an escape:
A way to leave a dangerous place.
a puncture wound:
A small but deep hole made in a person's body.
a scene
(of a crime): A place where a bad thing happened.
a serious condition:
Here meaning 'very ill, so that doctors are worried'.
a murder:
A crime in which a person is killed on purpose.