We meet Suze and La Lips outside a kebab shop. They're sharing a bag of fries and Suze has a kebab that she's saving for later.

"Lovely ladies!" Trev croons. "What does a guy have to do to get a fry and a kiss around here?"

"Sod off," Suze growls as he drapes an arm round each of them. La Lips smiles and cuddles into him.

"What's up?" I ask, eyeing the fries hungrily. I had dinner before I came out but I always get the munchies when I spy a bag of steaming-hot fries.

"We were supposed to be meeting Elephant and Stagger Lee, but they never turned up," La Lips pouts.

"What are you doing with them?" Copper asks suspiciously. La Lips has kissed just about every boy she's ever come into contact with - I snogged her too, a while back, to see what it was like, though she tells me to shut my trap whenever I bring that up - but Copper has been sort of going steady with her for the last few weeks.

"Stagger Lee was going to give us new ringtones for our phones," Suze says.

"More Nick Cave, I bet," Copper scowls (Stagger Lee's a Nick Cave freak - he was nicknamed after one of the singer's most famous songs) and drags La Lips away from Trev.

"Careful!" she shouts, spilling a couple of fries. She rubs her arm where he pinched her and glares.

"You won't be copping a feel tonight," Kray laughs.

"He doesn't cop a feel any night," La Lips says, tossing her hair indignantly, but nobody buys that for even a second.

"Here," Suze says, handing me the bag of fries. "I can't bear to look at you drooling any longer."

"Cheers, ears." I tuck in and the others crowd around me. Thirty seconds later the fries are gone and we're licking our lips.

Suze shakes her head. "Like a pack of dogs," she sighs. Then she smiles at Vinyl, the only one who didn't grab any fries. "How's the new school?"

Vinyl shrugs. "You know. All right."

"Is it very different from ours?" La Lips asks.

"Yeah. They have gold-rimmed toilet seats."

"No way!" she gasps.

Everyone laughs.

"You're an idiot," I tell her.

"Less of that," Copper says, draping a protective arm around her.

"My hero," La Lips simpers and stands on her toes to stick her tongue down his throat.

"Not in public!" I roar and we keep on going down the street, jostling and laughing.

The girls don't have much news. They're as bored as we are. Suze and I walk a little ahead of the others, chatting about our mums - they used to be best friends when they were our age. But then Ballydefeck starts telling us to kiss each other, so I round on him and give him a slap to shut him up. He covers his head with both hands. "Not the face, B! Not the face!" In the end I kick him playfully and leave it at that.

We come to a liquor store and pause by the window, enviously studying the bottles. Most of us have had a drink or two in our time - Dad let me sip beer when I was a baby, for laughs - but it's hard to get hold of. Another few years and we'll be able to pass for eighteen and go to parties and drink ourselves stupid. But for now we can't do much apart from ogle and dream.

"Wait here," I tell the others, deciding to stir things up a bit. I push into the shop and walk straight to the beer fridge. I pick up a six-pack of the cheapest brand I can find - in case I get lucky - then lug it to the counter. The Pakistani guy behind the till stares at me, unimpressed. "Ring it up, boss," I tell him.

"You are underage." He doesn't even ask to see my ID.

"No I'm not. Go on, ring it up, I'm good for it." I dig out a tattered wallet that once belonged to my dad and slide out a tenner that I've been holding on to since Friday.

"You are underage," he says again. "It is illegal to sell alcohol to anyone under the age of eighteen. Please leave my shop immediately."

"Please leave my shop immediately," I echo, mimicking his accent. I know it's petty but I can't stop myself.

"If you do not leave, I will call the police," he says.

"Call them what?" I smirk.

He points to a security camera. "This is all being recorded. I would advise you to return the alcohol to its shelf and - "

I let the six-pack drop. The cans fizz but don't explode. "Stick them back on the shelf yourself, numbnuts."

His face darkens and he leans forward to strike me. Then he stops and points at the door. "Out!" he screams.

I laugh and shoot him the finger. I give the finger to the camera too, then take my time heading for the door. I plan to tell Dad about this later, knowing he'll laugh, lovingly run his hand over my head and tell me I did good.

"You're crazy," Kray yells when I get outside, then he bumps my fist hard. They're all laughing and Trev gives me knuckles too.

"Same old B," Vinyl smiles tightly. For a moment I think he's going to have a go at me again, but he says nothing more.

"You didn't really expect him to sell you any beer, did you?" Suze asks.

"No." I whip out a bar of chocolate from beneath my T-shirt. "But he was so wound up about the beer, he never saw me palming this."

Lots of cheers. They all lean in for a square. I push them away, then dole it out, a piece for everyone, a quick prayer of thanks to Mr. Cadbury, then on we go, the others still cooing over what I did.

Later I head home alone through the dark. And do I worry about zombies? Do I bugger. I'm B Smith. This is my turf. Any zombies on the loose should be worried about me!