Read Street Soldier for Free Online Page A

Cheers.’
    Copper pushed his own plate back and stood up. His tray looked like it had been licked clean. ‘Laters, Seany.’
    Sean nodded and watched Copper wander off, then turned back to finish his meal, though he knew he’d still be hungry even afterwards. He reached for his drink,just as someone barged into his back. Water spewed across his food.
    Sean swivelled angrily in his seat and looked up into the face of the black guy he knew only as Tag. The big guy, the loudest of the Fresh meat crew, who had complained about his respect issues on his first day. A couple of other black guys hung in the background, like reserves. Tag was casually fingering the cross around his neck. Sean had found that, in here, a lot of lads discovered God in a big way, as a means of protection. They wore the big crosses for all to see. If Tag had found religion, it didn’t seem to have made much impact on the rest of his life.
    ‘Fuck you looking at?’ Tag said.
    ‘The twat who ruined my fucking breakfast,’ Sean snapped back.
    ‘Done you a favour then, haven’t I?’ Tag replied. ‘Tastes like dog shit. You should be thanking me.’
    Sean chucked his cutlery down on his tray. He had met plenty of lads like Tag. Lots of swagger, lots of over-the-top body movement to emphasize every word they said. It just made the lanky wannabe gangster seem even more of a dick.
    A dick who wanted a fight. It wasn’t coincidence that Tag had waited until Copper left. They both knew this couldn’t end well, but Tag didn’t care. He wanted to hurtSean – as a matter of principle and because it would earn him respect from his crew.
    Respect was the only thing they both had. Sean and Tag were about equal when it came to education, cash, and prospects for success in the world outside. But Sean knew that he had the respect of the only people whose opinion mattered to him – Gaz and Copper and Matt, and all the Guyz – and he had earned it, so fuck what anyone else thought.
    Tag had probably never earned a scrap of respect in his life, except through fear and being a tosser. He just claimed it, and picked fights as an easy way to get it from other losers like him.
    ‘You’re not even going to apologize, then?’ Sean said, with not a lot of hope.
    Tag sneered. ‘You’re having a laugh. I ain’t apologizing to no one. You should be apologizing to me, man, for vexing me. And I don’t like being vexed.’
    Sean was tired. He was hungry. And he just wasn’t in the mood for any of this. He rose to his feet, no threat, just calm and casual, but Tag bumped him back down into his seat.
    ‘Reckon you should stay seated – know what I mean?’
    Sean breathed deep and slow, taking air in through his nose, then exhaling through his mouth. He was reading Tag now, watching for any small signs of hisnext move. When it came, it wasn’t much. A flex of the jaw, a tightening of a fist as an arm pulled back just a little.
    Sean didn’t wait. He ducked down and sprang away as Tag came in with his right hand white-knuckle tight. Only Sean wasn’t there any more, and the movement sent him off balance. Now Sean was on his feet and Tag was stumbling forwards in front of him. Sean hammered down onto the back of Tag’s neck with his right forearm.
    This wasn’t a street fight where you had time to go in for another attack. Here, you had to make whatever you were doing count, because the prison officers would be on you in seconds. No messing around. So all Sean’s weight and strength went into that one forearm swipe. Tag didn’t stand a chance: he crashed down onto the floor.
    Tag’s two reserves had already fled. Sean laughed and stood back. He knew what was coming next.
    Before he’d even had time to put both hands above his head, three warders were on him, with two others closing in. He didn’t fight back, didn’t struggle. No point getting a broken arm on top of everything else.
    Prison called it ‘basic’. Sean called it ‘solitary’. It lasted a