had to walk over to Ace’s place. I stopped some guys from killing his kid-brother.”
“Who was it man? They’re dead if Ace gets a hold of them,” he howled in laughter, probably thinking about Ace Rice beating the tar out of a couple street walkers.
Ace was a tough guy; if he got a hold of them, even their own mothers wouldn’t recognize ‘em when he was done.
The lights were on when we pulled up to the front of my house, and I could see AJ sitting in an armchair staring at the blank TV screen.
“Looks like you’re in for it now,” Fry cackled.
I gave him a dirty look before I silently pulled myself out of the car. I walked up the drive, dread in each step. I took a deep breath then opened the door. AJ didn’t even look up when I walked in. He didn’t change expressions, or even seem to notice I was there. But I knew he did, he just didn’t have the energy to fight. I stood in the living room for a second, until he finally looked up.
“That your blood?” he asked with no concern in his voice.
“Naw, it ain’t mine.”
That seemed to satisfy him, and he got up and went to his room. I knew the fight was gonna come, but I was glad it would wait because I was in no mood to hear the lecture I knew was coming.
I went in my room, threw off my blood covered shirt and fell right to sleep.
Two
I woke the next morning to someone jerking me out of bed.
“You little punk!” he yelled, throwing me against the wall.
At first, I thought it was AJ, mad about last night. But then I figured it out; it was my old man.
“Get your hands off him,” AJ’s voice commanded, and I felt my dad’s hands let go of me.
I slid down the wall, still half asleep.
“What’s up with you?” AJ yelled at him, standing in the doorway of my room looking more annoyed than angry.
“The little thief has been stealing from me!” my old man hollered, out of breath from the struggle.
“Stealing what?”
“What do you think, kid? He’s been swiping my beer.”
“I didn’t drink it,” I spoke up, realizing what the heck was going on.
“He says he didn’t steal it,” AJ repeated, pulling his work shirt over his head.
“No, he said he didn’t drink it. He didn’t say nothin’ about not stealing it.”
The old man was breathing hard as he stood over me, and I was afraid he was gonna bash me a good one with the empty beer bottle he had in his hand.
“Did you steal it?” AJ asked real calm-like.
“No, I didn’t steal it.”
“He didn’t steal it, so give the kid a break.”
“I’ll catch you next time!” my old man threatened over his shoulder, still obviously drunk as he stumbled out of the room.
“What’s the matter with you?” AJ asked. Again he didn’t seem angry, just tired. “I was about to call the cops last night. Who knew what had happened to you? You could have been lying dead in some alley.”
“I—”
“I was up all night and morning, scared to death of what had happened to you. I didn’t know if I should hug you or kill you when you got home. Where were you all night that was so damn important?”
“Well, I went to a movie, and then shot some pool. On my way home I saw this kid getting jumped so I ran the guys off. Guess who the kid they were jumping was?”
“I’m not in the mood to guess,” he said, sitting down on the side of my bed and pulling on his boots.
“It was Ace’s kid-brother.”
“No kidding?” I finally got some kind of rise out of him.
“No kidding. So I had to walk him home, and he passed out halfway there. He had a pretty good knife cut.”
“Who was it?” he asked.
“Ace’s brother.”
“No, who jumped him?”
“I have no idea. I’ve never seen them before. A couple drifters I think.”
“Well, I gotta go to work.” He looked real tired, and I knew it was my fault. “Stay out of trouble. And don’t pull what you pulled last night again, or I’ll be the one to jump you. Got me?” he threatened.
“Yeah.”
“Oh, by the way, make sure Mark is at the school by eight. He’s got Saturday school.”
“He get in a fight?”
“I don’t know, something like that. Just make sure he gets there. I don’t want him getting suspended.”
“No problem.” That was typical of Mark, my little brother. Mark was the one in the family who liked to start fights. Me and AJ just finished them. I never started a fight— on purpose anyway.
“Anybody home?” a voice came from the living room.
I sat up in bed, trying to shake the sleep from my head. I must have dozed back off.
“In here,” I called, pulling myself up.
“Hey kid, where’s AJ?” Blade asked.
Blade’s real name was Danny. We all called him Blade though because he could do anything with his knife before you even realized he had it out. He was AJ’s best friend. They had known each other since they were in elementary school; he had always been an extra big brother to me.
“Where he’s at every other Saturday. Work,” I said, walking into the living room with Blade on my heels.
“I thought he was switching his hours?” He picked up a box of crackers off of the table and started shoveling them into his mouth before dropping the empty box in the trash.
“Guess not.”
“You know, he was worried sick about you last night. I thought it was gonna give him an ulcer or something.” He stood in my hallway, flipping his knife around in his hand absent-mindedly.
“I know,” I said, picking up an empty bowl from the coffee table and dropping it into the kitchen sink.
“Well, I gotta be getting to work too. Tell him some guy named Clark is looking for him.”
“What do you mean, looking for him?” I asked, looking up
