It is a cold September afternoon and not the weather to be wearing shorts and little else. But Leo is different. We don’t know his real name, but we shall call him that, because he looks like he should be called Leo. 

Leo is in a small supermarket, and he looks about fifteen or sixteen. He has a shaved head, mischievous eyes, and boyish stubble. He will never be considered good-looking until he abandons that pursuit of chaviness.

‘I am Leo, and I will shock you.’  

The only signs of manhood are his scrubby hairy legs. His slender torso is pale, smooth, and scrawny. Despite the cold, there are beads of sweat across his chest, and if you stand close enough, you’ll recognise that faint smell of a teenage boy. 

Leo is quick, and if you were to fight him, he would be incredibly slippy.

He has no money, and as he brushes past old women, he thinks about stealing a packet of crisps, or a chocolate bar,  but there is nowhere to hide them.

When Leo reaches the newsstand, something catches his eye. He stands and stares, and somebody looks straight back at him. 

Leo studies the fox-like face on the front cover of Vogue magazine. He looks at the gentle lips, that noble nose, and green sex eyes, then notices that the eyebrows have been carefully plucked. Most of all, he likes the thick black curly hair. Leo thinks that he has never seen a man look so handsome.

Leo stares too long and realises that he’s put his hand down the front of his shorts like gangsta boys do.

“You battyboy, bro?” says a gangsta boy voice behind him. Carter, dressed in school uniform, grins over Leo’s shoulder.

Leo clenches his fists and swings around.

“I ain’t no battyboy, bro,” challenges Leo. And in his deepest gangsta  boy voice, tells Carter. “I swear I will bang you if you ever say that again!”