‘I know what you told them. You should have kept your mouth shut.’
Monte flung himself on the smaller boy, who lifted his arms to defend himself. They both fell to the ground, the grime from the street smearing across their bare arms and legs. They rolled, the knife poised in Monte’s hand, pushing forward, downward towards Nardo’s throat.
My God. He’s actually trying to kill me, Nardo thought, his mind chaotic with fear and confusion.
Desperately, he tried to force the hand with the knife away from his skin, but Monte’s strength was fuelled by his rage.
I can’t stop him, Nardo thought. Sweat made his hands slip from Monte’s wrist. The knife tip was on his throat. The fight was draining his energy, making him weaker …
* * *
Outside the camp, a little way up the street, Bianca and Cont
