Friends part 2 of 7

When I was 11 I moved to a pretty rough area.  It was kind of a shock.  To me it was a neglected and depressing place.  It felt like it had sucked the hope out of many of it's residents too, or maybe that was just me.

I met some new friends at the park one day, they were older.

We would sit on the swings or go to one of the girls houses whenever her mum was at work, I think her mum might have been a nurse who worked shifts .

In her kitchen a handful of us listened to UB40 and made fimo key-rings.

One night when we left her house a huge group of boys and girls my age and older were at the end of her street.

They were too far away to make out faces.  It was dark and everything visible had taken on an orange glow from the street lamps overhead.  I thought I recognised one or two from their distinctive clothes, which were much more fashionable than mine.  Later I'd learn the more fashionable people had social workers.  These two facts seemed to be linked and made me want a social worker.

I had seen some of them around but had never spoken to any of them.  This was the first time I'd seen them all together en masse like this.

They were loud and managed to look both dangerously purposeful.... and completely aimless.

Many of them were smoking and bottles were being passed between them.

I couldn't help staring, I had the feeling something was about to happen.  I liked that feeling.

I was scared and interested but mostly interested.

One of them noticed us and called to my friend to ask who I was.

"She's with us" shouted my more street wise friend as she turned her back to them and motioned for me to do the same.

She had already decided they were to be avoided.

I hadn't.

"My name's Lynne" I shouted reflexively.

"What are you doing?"she cautioned with more than a hint of alarm in her voice.

The crowd had taken notice now that they had a name to play with.

After a short tug of war with whispered warnings on one side and determined appeals on the other, I made my way toward the crowd.

This is the exact street except this is a photo of the other side of the street.

I remember the exact words of this prophetic friend spoken to my back.

I hear them like an echo as I recall the words now, and maybe that is how I heard them that night too.

"Fine, it's your funeral......"