I hang around the edges for a while, thinking it's now or never and then whoosh! Activate burners! Check co-ordinates! Commence manual override! I'm making like Xterminator 7 meets Whizz amp; Chips in the House of Krazy Mak Robokat, down down down! I'm shouting something loud and stupid, I can't quite remember what.

Fucking floating, man! Aye, I bet that's what it was.

Shit, the Hang 5ers think I'm the cops! They scatter like chickens till they realize it's only me. Then they get angry. Dazzle and Spike start laughing at me.

'Pouf bike or what!' says Dazzle. 'What is that? A Wombat 205!'

'207,' I answer, trying to make something of it.

'Looks more like a pram!' says Spike, and Matchstick starts to laugh and twitter along.

Matchstick was a loony. He hardly did nowt but laugh and twitter.

And then the whole crew's laughing except for Flute, who's a girl and Dazz's girlfriend, so she just hangs back, saying nothing. But even Flute has got a better bike than me, so I'm like totally embarrassed.

'What you after?' says Dazzle.

'He's after getting twatted,' says Spike, swinging his dad's hammer.

'I wanna be a Hang 5er, Dazz,' I say. 'I wanna steal some stuff.'

'Let's see that pram go ride!' says Spike, making faces.

Dazzle and Spike live on the same street as me, King Lear Walk in the Shakespeare Estate, five miles out from Namchester. A right dump, Shakespeare is. No big shakes and certainly no spears. Just a slagheap or two, some dirty sparrows and a mangy blackbird. All the streets are named after stories by this William Shakespeare guy. Dazzle taught me that fact, not that he'd ever met this William Shakespeare or anything. He was quite kind to me, Dazzle, when he wasn't hanging five with the crew, and I was always after joining.

'You're too fucking young,' he says now.

'I'm seven today,' I answer.

'You've gotta be eight to join.'

'I've got a bike,' I say.

'Wowee!' says Spike. 'It's the fucking Melvmobile! Wobble on it!'

'Fucking wobble!' says Matchstick. Which is a bit much, coming from him.

'Shall I take him out, Dazz?' says Spike.

'Enough,' says Dazzle. 'Let's do the biz. Hang 5 alive!'

'See ya around,' says Spike, laughing.

'Around and around,' echoes Matchstick. He was seriously in awe of Spike, and all he ever said was just a slight copy of Spike's curses.

The crew pull down their hats, tug up their collars, pull down their hoods, adopt their balaclavas, ride on out of there.

Alone as forever, just the rain and the biscuit factory.

So I ride over to school, figuring I can make some excuses for being late. Of course, I never quite make it. Instead I head for the Caliban Mall. I spend the morning there, eating crisps and watching the free shows in the TV shop. Krazy Mak Robokat and Xterminator 7. Watching television in a shop window is much better than watching it at home, because the TV shops have like loads of machines all tuned to different stations, whereas my dad only ever has the racing on, or else the porno on cable. Of course, you don't receive the sound in a window, but who the fuck needs to listen to Whizz amp; Chips to get the message?

Anyway, I'm happy just hanging out in the mall, until some woman sits down next to me on the bench, spoiling the pleasure. 'You not in school today, Melv?' says this woman and it's only when I look that I realize it's Jackie Flint sitting next to me, eating a ham and pickle sandwich.

Jackie is Dazzle's older sister, like eighteen years old. She's the white sheep of the Flint family, because she's actually got a job. Not a job like my mam's got a job, down at the bingo hall, I mean a real job. She was working at this techno shop in Caliban Mall, selling videocams and computers and cd-rom players and such.

'The teachers piss me off,' I reply, nonchalant.

'Why's that, then?'

'They don't teach you the real stuff.'

'Fair enough.'

I often thought Dazzle's mam must have shagged someone else to produce Jackie, because she was so brainy. Jackie had a ton of computers and various gadgets, up in her bedroom. It was great, cause she could always break into the latest rom-game to give us shortcuts. She could break any code going.

Anyway we both just sit there, watching the silent TVs for a while. It was Jackie's dinner hour. A security guard comes along and tells me that bikes aren't allowed in the mall. Jackie says it's all right, I'm with her, which makes me smile out loud, and the ape gives in to her straight away. I just knew that he was fancying Jackie something rotten, and why not? So would I if I was old enough.

I'm thinking how easy it would be to nick stuff from the shops in the mall, maybe that would impress Dazzle enough, when Jackie says to me, 'You best go now,' and she turns to kiss the guard, mouth still stuffed with ham and sweet pickle.

I can't understand why she's doing that, but I leave them to it, because what else can I do? It's too late for school now, and what does a day lost add up to? Nothing much, so I ride around town for a bit, just getting the hang of the bike, making the best of a bad wheel job.

I get home at the right time, just like I've been to school, and the next day I turn up at the hole again, but this time I keep away until the Hang 5 crew actually ride out of there. Then I follow behind, keeping my distance just like in the films. They head for the Pitstoppers garage on Macbeth Street. I watch them all getting into position.

Dazzle's the leader. He was old, like nine already. Almost past it. He was itching to get a drug-runner job with the Namchester lads. Out to prove himself worthy. He never did any stealing any more, he just directed the traffic.

A posh car drives into the forecourt, parking behind a dingy red Mini.

Matchstick was the decoy. He was eleven years gone, but going on four. The poor kid was totally out of his mansion, which made a good diversion. Now the loony is wobbling into the forecourt, on-bike and singing a little song.

A posh guy gets out of the posh car, moves over to the pump. He turns to look at Matchstick as he trundles by, howling wild. Good sign.

Flute was acting as the lookout. Eight years old, a real good-looker in a tracksuit and a balaclava. Dazzle liked a girl who could handle a bike, and this was a beauty. She's no doubt got one eye on the securicam, the other on the bloke behind the counter. Hopefully, he's busy dealing with another customer, the one from the red Mini.

I see that somebody is still sitting inside the beat-up Mini, looks like an Indian guy, or a Pakistani, could cause problems. But then he actually gets out of the car, and goes into the shop, maybe to get some cigs or a chocolate bar, but this is the best thing - he's left a window wide open!

Meanwhile, the posh guy at the pump is smiling at Matchstick.

I'm watching all this from above, with my new wheels perched on a slagheap. Well, it used to be a slagheap, till the council grassed it over, called it a theme park. Slagworld. I pull down the hat, tug up the collar, pull down the hood, adopt the balaclava. Actually, this wasn't an official Hang 5er balaclava, but the balaclava that my dad used to wear when he was a young biker thief. I stole it from his bottom drawer.

Flute gives the signal to go, and Spike darts out from behind the garage on his Boomerang 509, supercharged! Spike was the second-in-command, almost nine. He rides over to the posh car, smashes the window with his dad's hammer, reaches in.

The posh guy turns at the sound. No doubt the joker behind the counter turns as well, startled. Maybe even the owner of the Mini car turns around. I'm watching all this from the grass, perched to fly. By which time Matchstick has vanished and Spike is flying away with the posh guy's case, stolen from the car.