Spoiler
So. I am aware that the plot sucks a little, but that wasn't the reason why I wrote this. It was actually inspired by a conversation about dialects that Azila and I had recently and I thought it would be fun to show all of YWS how people from where I'm from speak. If you want to know what any of the words mean then post on my wall and I'll try my best to explain 
And Azila; I hope this makes you laugh 
Enjoy!
And Azila; I hope this makes you laugh Enjoy!Jamie dug his fingers into his palms as he approached the local shop. He hated the estate where he lived; it was full of loud mouthed idiots who seemed to lack the ability to say anything but insults and swear words. But nonetheless, his mum had asked him to fetch a pint of milk and he wasn’t going to woos out. Even if it meant he’d probably have to pass McKenzie’s gang.
As if to prove Jamie’s musings true, the moment he turned the corner, he heard raucous laughter. Jamie swallowed nervously and slowed his pace. McKenzie Smith was intimidating at the best of times, but today Jamie knew that he wouldn’t be able to escape from the inevitable. I knew I shouldn’t have let auntie Sue cut my hair he thought, his hand instinctively moving to the badly cut mop of hair on his head. He sighed and pulled at the hood of his jacket, trying to make sure that every strand of his dark hair was hidden from sight. If McKenzie got an eyeful, then well. It wouldn’t be good.
Deciding that he probably looked a bit dodgy - hanging around alone on a street corner - he summoned what little courage he possessed and forced himself to carry on towards the shop. His eyes on the ground, he could see the usual piles of litter lying next to the shops entrance, even though the empty bin was only a few metres away. It annoyed him how thoughtless people could be.
“Excuse me?”
Jamie’s heart leapt to his throat and his head snapped up in an instant.
“Would you mind moving over, sonny? Only my trolley won’t fit past with you hogging all of the pavement.”
He stared blankly at the little old lady in front of him for a moment, before jumping out of the way with an apologetic smile on his face.
“Sorry,” he muttered, his gaze travelling over the woman’s deeply lined forehead and then down to her bloodshot eyes.
The woman regarded him with a nod before continuing on her way.
Jamie scratched his head through the material of his hood and managed a small smile to himself. It was nice to see someone who wasn’t afraid of the local youths that dominated the housing estate. He was just sad that he was terrified of his peers.
Another bout of guttural laughter reached Jamie’s ears and he looked over to see McKenzie and his gang pointing to a patch of newly sprayed graffiti that someone had etched across the side of the community centre. Their backs turned, Jamie hurried towards the shop. Once inside, he let out a breath that he hadn’t known he’d been holding.
The familiar hum of the refrigerators was comforting as Jamie made his way to the back of the shop. He eyed the sweets for a second before deciding against buying any; he wanted to be in and out as fast as possible. Grabbing a pint of milk, he strode towards the counter and delved his free hand into his trousers pocket. Feeling around for the change his mum had given him, he couldn’t help glancing to the door just in case one of the local chavs decided to try their luck at shop lifting.
“Can I help you?” a voice said warily.
Jamie set the milk on the countertop and turned back to face the shop assistant. His pulse slowed a little when his gaze rested on Mrs. Jones.
“Just the milk please,” he said, offering her a smile.
Her gaze softened when she realised who she was talking to. “Oh alright, Jamie, love? I didn’t recognise you with your hood up! I thought you was one of them hell raisers that stands around outside all day.” She scanned the milk and set it in a carrier bag adorned with the shops brightly coloured logo. “I swear they has nothing better to do than get on my bleedin’ nerves.”
No knowing what to say, Jamie shrugged.
“That’s fifty pence, love,” she said, handing the bag to Jamie.
He took it after passing her the cash.
“Thanks, lovey,” she said, flashing him a smile so wide that he noticed the lipstick on her teeth. “What are you gonna get up to today then? Shame to waste a lush day like this indoors.”
Jamie took a step backwards and shrugged again. Really he’d have liked to have been on his way home now, but he didn’t want to upset Mrs. Jones by bailing on her mid-conversation.
“Might take my sister to the park or something,” he replied, backing away as discretely as he could.
Mrs. Jones didn’t seem to notice. “Oh, that’s a good ideal. Young Kayleigh’ll like that! What a nice boy you are, hey?”
Jamie waved goodbye before reaching for the door.
“See you soon, darlin’,” she called, just as the door swung shut behind Jamie.
Relieved to have escaped without injuring an hour long chat with Mrs. Jones, he squinted up at the blue sky before his view was blocked by a flash of orange.
“Wha’ we got ‘ere then?”
McKenzie’s voice was like venom in Jamie’s ears and he couldn’t help wincing.
“Milk,” Jamie replied quietly, and his gaze immediately fell to the floor. He hated the way that McKenzie and his gang made him feel, but he was too much of a whimp to do anything other than stand there and take it. Besides, one of Jamie’s neighbours had sworn he’d heard McKenzie boasting that he carried a knife.
“Well I want sweets, like. So you best have some.”
Jamie shook his head, his eyes fixed on a piece of minging chewing gum that was stuck to the concrete at his feet.
“That’s not good enough, is it though?”
Jamie recognised the voice of Stan, McKenzie’s second in command. A quick glance to his left and he spotted the pair of knock-off Nike’s that Stan always wore.
“Nope,” McKenzie said. “Our mate ere’s in some deep troubles if he ain’t got me sweets.”
Jamie could feel his face heating up and he gripped the carrier bag tightly. “I ain’t got none,” he muttered.
“You wha’?”
Stan’s voice was loud and Jamie had to try his hardest not to jolt.
“I said I ‘aven’t got any,” Jamie said, chancing a glance up at the two boys in front of him. His eyes widened in horror as he spotted more youths wearing hoodies, making their way over to him.
“Did you just dog me up?” McKenzie asked. The skin around his eyes was purple and Jamie guessed that he’d probably been up all night playing on his X-box.
“I think he did,” Stan said, producing a lighter from his sleeve. He used it to light the fag that he’d had tucked behind his ear. He took a long drag on his cigarette before blowing the smoke into Jamie’s face.
Jamie held his breath.
“You’re such a keener, Jamie,” McKenzie said, a smirk on his chubby face. “I bet you does everything your mummy tells you too.”
“Yeah, I bet he does.”
Jamie wanted to ask Stan why he had nothing better to do than repeat everything McKenzie said, but he knew better than to open his trap. Besides, he didn’t want to get his ass beat.
A couple more youths stopped behind where McKenzie and Stan were standing and Jamie felt like they were sucking all of the oxygen out of his lungs with every glare and snarl they sent in his direction. Stan offered the fag to McKenzie, all the while watching Jamie from beneath his hood. McKenzie took the fag in his grubby fingers and took a long drag. He too blew the smoke into Jamie’s face.
“What you hanging around Sadly Broke for anyways?” McKenzie asked, fiddling with the silver bar in his eyebrow with the hand that wasn’t holding Stan’s cigarette.
Jamie hated the nickname that the chavs gave to the housing estate. Bradley Stoke wasn’t a bad place to live, if you didn’t count the asbo kids that was.
“He’s looking for trouble if you asks me,” a boy wearing a tracksuit said. “You outta show him who’s boss, ‘Kenzie.”
Jamie wanted to punch the tracksuit kid in the gut to get him to shut it, but he didn’t want to start anything.
“I don’t want no troubles,” Jamie said. His voice was still quite but McKenzie seemed to hear him.
“Waz at?” McKenzie asked. His dark hair was greasy and Jamie wondered when he’d last had a bath.
“I said, I don’t wanna fight,” Jamie replied, finally daring to look up into the pair of green eyes that scared him so much.
“You too chicken, yeah?” A boy to the right of Stan was staring at Jamie through a pair of oversized sunglasses. Jamie thought he’d heard McKenzie call him Stew.
“Nah. I just don’t wanna tussle today,” Jamie said. “I gota get ‘ome.”
McKenzie’s malicious laugh sent a tingle down Jamie’s spine. His t-shirt was starting to stick to his back with sweat and he could feel a blush working its way onto his face again.
“Man. You a sorry excuse for a Sadly Broke teen. You’s always tryin’ a get by without us seein’ you’s. Waz’s so wrong with us?”
Jamie could have started listing things on his fingers, but instead he shrugged pathetically.
“He’s too much of a brown-noser to get with us, like,” Stan said, narrowing his eyes at Jamie. “He’d go straight to the pigs and grass us up.”
Jamie wished that there was a cop around now. Even one of those crappy P.C.O’s would do. He just needed anyone who wasn’t afraid to get involved. It was strangely quiet for a Saturday morning and Jamie wondered whether the locals could sense that a potential fight was brewing.
From in-between Stan and McKenzie’s shoulders, Jamie could see two men walking on the other side of the road. He crossed his fingers beneath his sleeve and prayed for the passers-by to decide to nip into the shop. McKenzie and his gang would have to back off then. They may be stupid, but they weren’t thick enough to beat up a kid while adults were watching; that’s what the back alleys were for.
Sadly, the men passed by without a second glance. Jamie sighed, breathing out all of the hope that he’d been holding onto.
“Excuse me, sonny?”
Jamie looked up from where his gaze had sagged back to the floor and was surprised to see a tuft of grey hair just visible behind the stubby form of McKenzie.
McKenzie and his gang turned around, intrigued by the voice, and Jamie caught a glimpse of the little old lady who he’d run into earlier. She was still pushing her tartan trolley, but this time she was wearing a pair of horn rimmed glasses. She was staring right at Jamie.
“Sonny?”
Unsure what else to do, but pleased that the distraction had lessened the gang’s glare on him, he replied. “Yes?” he asked, sounding uncertain.
Stan peered at him briefly before looking back at the old woman.
“Are you alright there?” she asked, her eyes still set on Jamie. Not once did she look at anyone else even though more than half of the six strong gang were eyeing her up.
“Uh, I was just…” Jamie started, but McKenzie pushed a hand back in Jamie’s direction and interrupted him.
“We was just asking him for sweets,” McKenzie said, a patronising tone aimed at the old lady.
She raised a wiry eyebrow at McKenzie before letting out the most high pitched laugh Jamie had ever heard.
Jamie noticed McKenzie physically start and he fought with all of his might to keep a smirk from his face. Besides, he was far from safe yet. His pulse was still rocketing and he was still surrounded by guys much stronger than him.
“What you take me for? A ninny?” The little of lady pushed her trolley forwards again, catching Stan in the knee as she came to a halt in front of Jamie.
Jamie held his breath as he saw Stan open his mouth, probably to start cussing at the old woman, but instead he opened and closed his mouth like a goldfish for a moment before clamping his mouth shut.
“Nope,” McKenzie said. He’d dropped the patronising tone and sounded a lot quieter than usual. “We’s not up to nothink, honest like.”
There was the sound of a huge lorry passing by and the little old lady seemed to be waiting until it was quite again before she spoke.
“I knows betta than to trust a chav like you!”
Jamie almost choked on the breath he’d just taken. Had the little old lady honestly just called the hardest guy on the estate, a chav? McKenzie couldn’t seem to believe it either; his eyebrows were raised and his chapped lips had parted to reveal his yellowing teeth.
“I… I mean… We was just about to leave. Init, guys?”
The guy in the tracksuit nodded hastily and Jamie even saw Stew step backwards.
“Yeah,” Stan agreed. “We was gonna head to the park anyway.”
“Good,” the lady said. “Now shoo!”
Jamie couldn’t believe his eyes when the whole gang turned around and almost ran towards the park.
“Have fun on the slider!” the old woman called. “You bunch of asbo babies. Always up to no good. Should be locked up the lot of ‘em. They’ll soon be cryin’ for their mas’.” And with that, she too turned around and hobbled off in the opposite direction but not before offering Jamie another curt nod.
Too stunned to move, Jamie was rooted to the spot outside the door of the shop until he heard a voice behind him.
“Jamie, love? Why you still ‘ere? That milk’s gonna be warm if you’s don’t get a move on.”
Jamie regarded Mrs. Jones with a dazed smile before finally moving off towards his house. That was one mint old lady, he thought to himself, shaking his head. Shame McKenzie and his gang were too frightened of her to hang around.
