Skins :
Extract 1 - featuring the Three Musketeers
Contains strong language and discussions of a sexual nature
COOK
Thursday 6 August
A bus stop
‘Fuck me.’ I took the spliff out of my mouth and gave it to Freddie. ‘Fucking weak as piss, that. Who give you that, man? It’s rancid.’
Freddie give me one of his little-boy-lost faces. Shrugged his skater-twat shoulders. ‘Dunno. Mate of Karen’s, I think.’ He checked my face, which was full-on fucking incredulous. ‘No, not Johnny White. I’m not fucking stupid.’ He chucked the spliff in the gutter.
‘Good to hear it, my friend!’ I slapped his arm, pulled my hand away and wrung it in the air. ‘You been fucking lifting forklift trucks, Fredster? Your biceps: hard as a fucking brick.’
JJ smiled, that serene smile. Don’t drink, don’t really smoke, our resident fucking looney tunes. What the fuck does he use to take the edge off? He pointed at the soggy spliff. ‘Are you keen to get hassled by those two upset-looking policemen coming towards us? Or are you both off your heads? Literally, or otherwise.’ He bent down, picked up the joint and threw it over his shoulder.
‘Little bastard,’ came this spindly old bag’s voice behind us. ‘Went straight in my shopping that did.’
Freds, JJ and I shrugged simultaneously. Fred and I smirked. Didn’t know her. Didn’t care.
‘No respect for anything these days, you lot,’ the hag went on. She poked JJ in the back. ‘You, young man. I know your mother . . . she collects my library books for me. Oh, I’ve seen you in her car. Don’t think I won’t tell her what you’ve been up to…’
‘I didn’t. I wasn’t—’ spluttered JJ, red as a fucking beetroot. Freds and I snorted with laughter. And I couldn’t help myself, I turned round.
‘Fancy a quick one?’ I said, running my tongue over my lips. ‘Bus won’t be here for ages.’
As the old crone opened and shut her wizened old trap, the three musketeers legged it all the way back to Fred’s place.
I had a proposition for him.
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