“You gonna leave him alone?” Darren asked, jerking his head at Jayden even though it was unlikely Canning could turn his head enough to look.
“Yeah.”
“You gonna call him a fag again?”
“…No.”
“Good boy,” Darren said in his most patronising tone—and jerked both arms forward, slamming Canning face-first against the bins with a loud boom and a crunching noise. Canning didn’t so much fall over as peel his bloodied nose off the metal, sway drunkenly, and finish the entire debacle by crumpling to sit on the tarmac in a messy heap.
Darren turned to eye Stapleton, shrugged, and stooped to pick up Jayden’s bag.
“You’re a fucking lunatic,” Jayden said, taking it and dragging Darren out of the gates by the sleeve. “Canning’s a nutter. I mean…what did you…seriously, he’ll be out for you now.”
“Canning’s a small fish in a big pond,” Darren muttered and rolled his eyes. “I mean, come on. There’s harder kids at my school, and that’s saying something.”