going on here?” I called, seeing who it was. They were some of Haker’s gang.
“I’m gonna cut this kid to threads!” one of the guys holding Andy growled, spitting in his face.
“What are you doing over here, Dillon? This ain’t your turf,” Slim cautioned as we advanced.
“This little punk broke out the windows in my car! And I’m going to cut him up for it.”
“How you know it was him?” I questioned.
“I got witnesses.”
“I swear I didn’t do it,” Andy spoke up.
He sounded pretty in control of himself, for the situation. That was Andy for you, always in control of himself. I’m not saying he was never nervous, I’m just saying he never showed it. Andy was pretty quiet. He was tough and all, but he had a plan. He was determined to get out of this town. He was smart and had good grades, unlike me. He was a tall guy, proportionately built, with light-brown hair. His eyes flickered to me; his only display of nervousness.
“Stop lying you SOB, I know you did it!”
“Why? What would be the point of me breaking your windows?” Andy asked, sounding almost bewildered at the thought. Andy was not the type to run around raising hell. He kept to himself and backed us up when we needed it.
“I don’t know why you Locals do what you do,” Dillon growled, rapping Andy hard against the wall, “but you’re going to pay for my windows or I’m going to take it out of your ass!” He threw a fist into Andy’s stomach, doubling him up.
“Sonofa …!” Slim and I moved in.
“Take another step!”
Cold steel met my forehead; one of them, I couldn’t tell who, had pulled a gun. My focus stayed with the gun. My heart raced off. I glanced to his eyes; they were the color of the ocean. They bore into mine like the cold metal bore into my forehead.
Andy leaned against the wall, gasping. “Now, Brance,” Dillon called Andy by his last name, “I’m going to teach you a thing or two…”
“Let him go,” a powerful voice commanded from behind the crowd.
Everybody looked to see Ace. He had his own gun aimed at one of Haker’s guys—a pudgy kid who’s hair was a mess from the wind. “I’ll do it, kid. Don’t push me,” Ace threatened Dillon as he held a knife to Andy’s throat. “Back off,” he instructed in a steady voice.
“You heard him,” Dillon called to his group.
All the guys slowly started to back off. The two guys that had Andy let go and backed away. The guy with the gun on me stood still for a minute, almost challenging Ace, but finally thought better of it and stuffed the metal into his waistband. They were all long gone except the guy Ace was holding with the gun.
“Get outta here,” Ace growled, and the guy jogged to catch up with the others.
Ace put the gun in his belt, and Andy and me both let out a sigh of relief. I was sweating bullets.
No one said anything for a minute. “We’re even,” Ace finally said, looking straight at me.
“Yeah, we’re even,” I repeated, my heart still racing.
“I’ll see you guys around.”
He said nothing else, and walked down the street. We all watched him walk away. I think we were in shock. Ace was someone we were all scared of, but would never admit to it. I wondered if the Spades thought of AJ that way.
“Thank God he came around,” Andy said, sliding to the ground, too shaky to stand. “What did he mean when he said you were even?” he asked, looking up at me, sweat pouring down his face.
“We could have taken them,” Mark said excitedly, his adrenaline obviously still pumping from the encounter. Always an optimist, I thought.
“I saved his kid-brother from a couple guys last night,” I spoke up, taking a deep breath, glad they were gone.
“I want to know what he was doing over here,” Fry said, lighting a smoke.
We stood just down the street from the Greasy Spoon. This whole block was our turf, and I kind of wondered what he had been doing here, too.
Three
“Give me the salt,” Mark said, licking ketchup off his fingers. I gave it to him and he poured it on his fries. I watched in disgust. I’m pretty sure I would choke to death if I ever put that much salt on anything. We were at the Greasy Spoon again—AJ’s treat.
“Freakin’ people with their guns. Where do they get money for ‘em?” AJ shook his head, sitting back in the booth, not really eating.
“Selling.”
“It’s insane—people running the streets with guns; kids getting shot. We should get out of here, out of this inner city game.”
“What do you mean, get out of here?” I asked AJ. He was silent for a minute. Like, move? I wondered. Where would we go? I had never lived anywhere but here.
“What was Ace doing over here?” AJ asked.
“I don’t know, but good thing he was, or Andy might be dead right now,” I said, defensive because he wasn’t more worried about Andy. “Or me.”
“Don’t get me wrong, kid,” he said, reading my mind like a book, “I’m glad he’s okay and everything, but we can’t just let anyone on our turf. Otherwise it isn’t our turf. You get what I mean?”
Yeah, I knew what he meant. Fry had told me the same thing earlier. “Yeah I know,” I said, thinking about all the stuff that had been happening lately. Always someone getting jumped or being threatened. Always something.
“So what’re you planning on doing tonight?” AJ asked me, dipping his fries into ketchup.
“Me, Sticky, Slim and Fry are gonna go drag Main.”
Everybody dragged Main on Saturday. There wasn’t much else to do except go to the drive-in or the movies or go bowling. I’d pick dragging over those any day.
“Home by dawn,” AJ said in a stern voice.”
“I’ll be there. What’re you planning on doing?” I asked, taking a bite of my hamburger and grimacing as I realized there were pickles on it.
“Me, Marty, Cole, and Blade are probably gonna hang out here and make sure nobody steps foot on our ground. You want to come?” he asked Mark.
“Sure, I ain’t got nothin’ better to do.”
I went home, flopped on my bed and took a nap. It only took me about half a second to fall asleep, I was exhausted from my long night. I usually got about six hours of sleep on the weekend. I needed a lot more but didn’t seem to have time for it. I woke to the sound of a horn.
“Yo,
