The smell of coffee and pastries filled the coffee shop; at this point in his young life, Jamie wanted to throw up at the smell. He’d been the barista at the coffee shop in the last building on Bay Street ever since he arrived a few years back. The coffee shop had a name – something shit and mediocre, like ‘Bay Coffee’ – but to all the regulars, it was known simply as the coffee shop. Not only did the smell make Jamie want to gag, but the rush was slow today. The estate agents had finally turned their hawk eyes on Bay Street and were starting renovations from the opposite end of the shit hole. The last building on Bay Street wasn’t safe for long, considering all the new tenants pouring into the houses down the road that wrinkled their noses at the tattered building at the very end of the street before the shabby forest started. That also meant that other than a few rough-bred regulars, no one else dared brave the coffee shop. Which meant Jamie was

Buster was awoken, like every morning, by the soft snoring of Valentina in the bed in the opposite corner. Except today, Buster wasn’t in a happy mood. He had an internal clock that awoke him each day at six thirty am, so he could begin early and have a whole day to find jobs. But today...Buster sighed, rubbing his face without getting up. Today was the first of September – and school was back on. Six hours wasted on hearing the shit teachers at community college drone on that he could spend actually earning money. One more year, Buster reminded himself, then its goodbye compulsory education. He sat up in his too-small bed, stretched and reached out to pull the rag-tag, patchwork curtain away from the window above his bed. The weather reflected his mood – it was a grey, dull morning, rain drizzling in short bursts. It was still warm enough but Buster gave September a week before he had to dig out his old coat. He let the curtain flop back in place over the dreary landscape and stood,

The moon was a round, bright shape on the sky and the fights were brimming.Val wrapped leather straps over her knuckles over and over, scanning the crowds, pin pointing possible opponents that would rise up. There was the guy whose jaw she broke last week; and the girl who had lost to Val three times in a row. Val braced herself, finishing tying the straps – tonight, half the room was out to kill her. She wasn’t going to let that happen – she never did. She stood from where she sat on one of the overturned crates on the damp floor of the underground fighting space, fashioned in one of the old train stations under the city. People sat on anything and everything they could get their hands on – many stood. The fighting pit was literally the track space between the two platforms, no longer under electricity. Sometimes it got flooded and you had to fight in disgusting, ankle-deep muck – now the tracks were relatively dry but treacherous all the same.

Jamie was afraid of very few things – police stations were one.Walking out of the coffee shop and avoiding the Diego Delarosa parked out front was another.‘’Shit man, just go,’’ Art said, watching Jamie stare determinedly at the doors for the nth time in the last half an hour, ‘’we’re running low. We need more coffee.’’ It was a drab September Saturday and Toby caught the cold; Art eagerly volunteered to take over his shift at the coffee shop, before Buster (who was doing a street dancing act with Raphael’s brother, Carmelo) or Raphael (who took on a couple shifts at the old people’s home a half hour bus ride away) could beat him to it. But watching Jamie get too scared to walk out of the front doors was as amusing as it was fatiguing – and, as usually on Saturday mornings, they had a steady flow of students demanding coffee which was running out rather quickly.‘’What f he follows me?’’ Jamie asked uneasily, craning his neck to glare at the police car idling on the curb. It had bee

Once October came around, there was no denying that it was too cold to walk around without a coat. Gus found himself making his way home from the Halloween party committee meeting by himself. Like each year, his fellow high schoolers – Jamie and Val – adamantly refused participation in what they called ‘the most cringe worthy event of the year’ (especially considering you had to pay for a ticket) and glared at anyone who dared approach them about it. Gus, on the other hand, was the most approachable person and earth and, as always, he got roped into the party’s committee. As he returned, the sun was already setting, flooding the dusty alleyways he was using to get to Bay Street quicker with soft orange light. Gus was swimming in his tweed, knee-long coat that looked like it had survived WW2 – four blue buttons, a prim collar and grizzly, knitted material made the coat look older than Gus. It was way too big for him, but he’d found it in a charity shop the first winter he’d moved out o