Over My Head

by Charles de Lint

  They've all got shaved heads and serious ink. Happily, I don't see any weapons. Yet.

  "What happened to your face?" Trucho asks.

  "I got beat up."

  He grins. "Or maybe some rough sex with your boyfriend here?"

  The other guys laugh.

  "Hey, I know him," Lil' Puppet says. "He's Chaingang's bitch."

  Gordo nods. "The kid from the news—the one that can change into a tiger or something."

  "That right?" Trucho says, his gaze locked on me.

  I shake my head, for all the good it's going to do. I can feel Des's tension beside me and I know however this turns out, it's not going to be good. Mostly because I can't see us getting out of this in one piece without calling up the strength and speed of the mountain lion under my skin. I'm pretty sure I'll be able to take them, but nobody's going to buy that I used my supposed kung fu. That'll stamp out that rumour pretty quick.

  "I don't think you're telling the truth," Trucho says.

  Talking under my breath, I tell Des, "As soon as the fight starts, just take off."

  "Hey, I'm not going to—"

  "Just do it," I tell him. "I don't want to have to think about which one is you when this starts."

  "What're you whispering about?" Trucho wants to know.

  I fix my gaze on Des until he finally nods.

  "Okay," Trucho says. "That how you want to play it?"

  His door opens. His running shoes are quiet on the pavement as he steps out onto the street. The passenger door opens and Lil' Puppet comes around the car. Gordo starts to get out as well, but Trucho waves him back.

  "We got this," he says.

  I'm so sick of all these tough guys who think they can just walk all over you. Erik and his stupid posse of wannabes. The RKs here in front of me. Trucho in particular, with his macho swagger.

  I plan to take him down first, then Lil' Puppet. If either of the guys in the back gets out of the car, they'll go down, too.

  The mountain lion under my skin purrs with anticipation, but I hold him in check. I'm not going to start this. If Trucho wants to go to the hospital, he has to make the move.

  His hand goes in the pocket of his vest and comes out with a knife. He flicks it open, grins at me, looking for the fear in my eyes. It's my turn to smile when he realizes I'm not scared of him.

  I won't say I'm not nervous, but really, what can he do to me? I know I'm faster and stronger than him and it's not like he's holding a gun.

  "Don't do this," I tell him. "It's not too late to get back in your car and drive away."

  But before he can respond, we hear a vehicle coming fast down Ocean Avenue, heading in our direction. A moment later it squeals to a stop in front of Trucho's Hudson, high beams blinding us all. With the light in my eyes I can't see any better than the rest of them, but my nose catches Agent Solana's scent as soon as he steps out of the car. Then he comes into the light carrying a serious-looking pump action shotgun, barrel over his shoulder, finger on the trigger.

  "Dude," Des says from beside me. "When did he get so badass?"

  "Okay, cholos," Solana tells the Kings. "Time to pack it up."

  "You know who I am?" Trucho says.

  Oh, he doesn't like this, everything spinning out of his control.

  "Do I look like I care?" Solana asks. "Now beat it."

  "You're just some cop. What are you going to do—shoot us?"

  "I'm off duty," Solana tells him.

  Then he adds something in rapid-fire Spanish. I catch the words "cartel" and "Solís."

  Trucho sneers at him. "Bullshit."

  Solana drops his shotgun into a firing position.

  "Try me," he says and jacks a shell into the chamber.

  I can tell Des is in heaven. It's like he got dropped into one of his favourite action movies. But something feels off to me. Solana's a cop. FBI. What's he doing running around threatening to shoot people? The Kings might be low-life gangbangers, but they still have civil rights.

  The mountain lion is pulling in all the scents. There's a lot of fear in the air—mostly from the Kings—and especially from the guy in the back seat with Gordo. Then I realize it's not a guy.

  "Okay," Trucho says. "Okay. We're gone."

  "Lose the knife," Solana says as Trucho starts to turn back to the car.

  Trucho opens his hand and the weapon clatters onto the pavement.

  "Now go," Solana says.

  "No," I say.

  Everybody turns in my direction.

  "Dude," Des says.

  I nod toward the car. "They've got somebody in there who doesn't want to be with them."

  "Hey, we're going," Trucho says. "We don't want to cause any trouble."

  Now he says that.

  Solana doesn't ask me how I know. He just says, "Everybody out of the car. Now! Hands in the air where I can see them."

  "Hey, come on," Trucho tries.

  Solana aims his shotgun at the front of the Hudson.

  "The warning shot's going through your engine," he tells Trucho. "The second one's for you."

  Trucho glares, but he lifts his hands.

  "Do what he says," he says. "Everybody out."

  Lil' Puppet's already got his arms up. Gordo comes out, moving slowly, so as not to spook Solana. He joins the other two, hands raised. Finally, the fourth door opens and a teenage girl steps out onto the pavement.

  "Marina?" Des says.

  She looks like Marina, but the scent's wrong.

  "No," I tell him. "That's her sister Ampora."

  She comes around the car with her hands in the air.

  "Ampora Lopez?" Solana asks. When she nods, he tells her she can lower her hands. "Are you all right?" he adds. "Did anybody hurt you?"

  She shakes her head.

  "Were these men holding you against your will?" Solana asks.

  "Hey, we're just friends," Trucho breaks in. "Out for a ride, man. Nothing heavy."

  "Was I talking to you?" Solana asks. He turns his attention back to Ampora. "Ms.?"

  "It's true," she says, looking at the ground. "We were out for a ride. But now I just want to go home."

  This is bad. No matter what happens, the Kings are going to come after Ampora, maybe her whole family. That's how the bandas get away with what they do. Nobody stands up to them because they know the hurt's going to fall down upon their friends and family, not just themselves.

  Solana knows it, too.

  "Well, this complicates everything," he says. "Now what am I going to do with you?"

  "Hey, no, we're cool, ese," Trucho says. "You don't have to worry about us."

  "Let me have a word with him," I say.

  Trucho gives me a WTF look, but Solana only raises an eyebrow and smiles.

  "Go for it," he says.

  "I'll walk you to your car," I tell Trucho as I close the distance between us.

  Trucho glares at me. His gaze flicks to Solana, who keeps the shotgun aimed right at him.

  "Okay," he says.

  "Back seat," I say as he starts to get in behind the wheel.

  "You kidding me?"

  "Do it," Solana tells him.

  "Okay, okay. I'm doing it."

  He gets in the back. When he starts to scoot over to make room for me I lean in and grab his shoulder.

  "I know what you're thinking," I say. "First chance you get, you're going for payback. But I'm here to tell you that anything happens to Ampora, her family—hell, to anybody I know—and I'll make it my personal crusade to take you apart."

  "You think I'm—"

  I knew before I started this that he'd have to be convinced. So I close my hand on his shoulder and squeeze until the bone snaps under my fingers. He cries out and tries to get away, but he can't move. His squirming only makes the pain worse. I feel a little sick, but I don't know what else to do.

  "You loco piece of—" he says.

  He breaks off when I push my face right against his. I let a little of the lion out for him to see. The
pissed off eyes. A bit of teeth. Now I can feel him shaking under my hand.

  "So we're clear?" I ask.

  He gives a quick, scared nod.

  "Because if you're not, we can finish this now."

  "No, no. It's clear."

  "Don't think I can't find you," I tell him. "It doesn't matter where or how far away you hide, anything happens to the people under my protection and they're never going to find all the pieces of you to put in one coffin."

  I'm probably laying it on a little thick—comes from all those movie nights at Des's place—but Trucho's not in a position to be critical. I can tell he's buying it. How long it will hold depends on him. Once I'm not in front of him and the shoulder's been looked after, maybe he'll start to feel brave again.

  "This goes for your whole gang," I tell him. "Anything happens, you take the weight. Understand?"

  I give his broken shoulder another squeeze and his eyes water with the pain.

  "Yeah, yeah, ease up," he says. "I get it."

  I step back from the car. It's at that moment I realize that I can't hide from what I am. I can't let jerks like Erik beat on me because they're not going to go away. They're just going to beat on somebody else. Same with these bandas losers. I've got to use what I've got sitting under my skin to do the Spider-Man thing and take responsibility for what's messed up around me. But I'm going to do it on my own terms.

  "Trucho wants one of you to drive," I tell Lil' Puppet and Gordo. "I think he needs to go to the hospital."

  Lil' Puppet takes a step toward me, but stops when Solana swings his shotgun.

  "This isn't done," Lil' Puppet says.

  "Check with Trucho," I tell him. "I think it is."

  I rejoin Des and the others as Lil' Puppet and Gordo get into the Hudson. They retreat from Solana's car and peal off, heading back to the barrio. I turn to Ampora and she punches me in the shoulder as hard as she can. What's with all the abuse this poor shoulder is taking? I stagger back a step, but catch her fist as she takes a second swing. I'm careful not to hurt her. But instead I've freaked her out with how strong I am.

  I give her a little push away and take a step back myself.

  "Dude!" Des says to her. "What's your problem? We just saved your ass."

  She turns to glare at him. "I'm dead now—don't you get it? They were just going to rough me up a little, but now I'm dead. I've got a family. Two little sisters. They're going to come after us all."

  "I can assure you—" Solana starts.

  She cuts him off. "And what kind of a cop are you? I heard what you said to Trucho, so what are you, dirty or clean?"

  "What did you say?" I ask Solana.

  "He said he's a hitman for the Solís Cartel," Ampora says.

  Even I've heard of them. According to the news reports, they run better than half the dope from Juaréz up here to So-Cal.

  "Well, he's not," I tell her. "He just said that to throw them."

  I hope.

  "And you!" she starts, but I don't let her finish.

  "No," I tell her. "Maybe other people buy into your hot-headed chica bullshit, but we know better."

  "What makes you—oh, so that's what Marina says about me?"

  "Marina doesn't have to say anything. All I have to do is see you at school, always walking around with a chip on your shoulder. Everybody gets it. You don't like anybody."

  "You don't know anything about me."

  I nod. "And I don't need to. I just need to know why the Kings are after you."

  "It doesn't matter."

  I look at Solana and he just shrugs.

  "Okay," I say. "Don't tell us. We're going to take you home and I'll watch your place tonight to make sure the Kings leave you alone."

  "And tomorrow night?" she asks. "And the night after?"

  "Let's just take this one step at a time," I tell her. I turn to Solana to add, "Do you mind giving us a lift?"

  "No problem."

  I can't shake the feeling that he seems a little self-satisfied with how all this went down tonight, but now's not the time to get into it.

  Des touches my shoulder. "Dude, I can't stay out all night," he says, regret in his eyes.

  "I'll give him a ride home after," Solana says.

  "It's not that I don't want to," Des tells me.

  "It's cool," I say.

  We all pile into Solana's car, Des taking shotgun, Ampora and me in the back. She's quiet and sullen for the whole drive to her house. She doesn't say a word until Solana drops us off and we're standing on the curb watching his tail lights disappear down the street.

  She juts her chin toward me. "So all those stories about you," she says, "are you trying to tell me they're true?"

  "You know how you don't want to talk to me about whatever beef the Kings have with you?"

  She nods.

  "Well, I don't feel like talking to you, either. Just go inside. I'll keep watch tonight, and tomorrow morning, we'll take your sisters to their school."

  She frowns at me, but doesn't move. I'm surprised at how much she looks like Marina. I'd never really noticed it before. I suppose I can see it now because she's standing so still, right in front of me. When they're moving, they inhabit their bodies so differently. Marina is loose, comfortable in her skin. Ampora carries a tightness, like she's pulling away from the world instead of living in it. But if you were to put them together and take away Marina's skateboarder gear and Ampora's gangsta chic, the resemblance would be uncanny.

  But while she might look like Marina, that doesn't mean I'm inclined to share any secrets with her.

  "Look, I get it," I tell her because she still seems to be waiting for me to say something. "We're not friends. We don't have to be friends for me to do this."

  "Then why are you doing it?"

  If this were one of Des's movies I'm sure the script would have me come out with something witty and cool. But it's not. It's just real life and I'm just me. So I stick with the truth.

  "Because somebody has to stand up to those shit-heads. Go on in. You'll be safe."

  She nods, but she still doesn't go inside. Instead she points to the playground down the block.

  "My kid sisters play there," she says. "Lots of the little kids in the neighbourhood do. It was a safe place, you know?"

  I nod to show I'm listening.

  "Last week the bangers started coming around. They'll pull up in their fancy cars and all the little boys go crazy seeing those sweet rides. The bangers start struttin' their lies, talking about how jumping into the RKs will put these kids on top, make them special. All the other losers will be working their asses off for nothing, but not them. Side with the Kings and they'll have everything they want. Money, girls, parties, custom rides. Familia."

  "It's an old story," I say. "You seem to buy it."

  That earns me another glare. "These kids are seven, eight, nine years old. The Kings are passing out joints. My sisters come home and ask why I don't have an RK for a boyfriend."

  "I didn't say it was right."

  "Damn straight it isn't right," Ampora says. "And I went over and told them to haul ass or I was going to call the cops."

  My eyebrows go up at that. Nobody calls the cops—especially not in the barrio.

  "What else was I supposed to do?" she asks. "¡Híjola! The bandas aren't going to listen to me. Not unless I've got a loaded gun pointed at their head. I had to threaten them with the cops."

  "So tonight … you weren't hanging with them by choice?"

  "They said I needed a lesson about what it means to cross them."

  "And you're mad because we pulled you out of that situation? They could have killed you. They love making examples of people."

  She shakes her head. "They would have just roughed me up—made sure I understood what getting in their way meant. And so long as I kept my head down, everything would have been okay. But now … my sisters … my parents …"

  "And would you have?" I ask. "Kept your head down?"

  "I …"


  But she can't answer. She doesn't have to. I already know. I might not know her very well, but Marina's talked about her enough. Ampora doesn't back off.

  "So it's better this way," I tell her.

  "How's it better? What can you do? Maybe I should be talking to whoever messed you up because somebody sure gave you a beating."

  Only because I let them, but I'm not going to tell her that.

  "No," she goes on, "you're just a kid that all these paranoid people think is a Wildling, and having some weird-ass cop in your corner isn't going to help. The bandas will eat you both and spit you out."

  "He's a real cop."

  "Yeah, but Wildlings aren't real, so where does that leave you?"

  I raise my eyebrows.

  "Oh, come on. Anybody with half a brain knows it's just some government scam to keep us down. And even if you could turn into a bird or a rat or whatever—how's that help with the bandas? The Kings'll just shut you down."

  "Trucho didn't seem to think so."

  I don't want to get into a pissing contest with her, but I can't stop myself from bringing it up. She didn't see what I did—nobody saw it except for Trucho—but she knows I did or said something to make him shut up and have Lil' Puppet drive them away. In his custom Hudson that only he ever drives.

  "Yeah," she says. "What was up with that? You must have something big on him."

  "You should go inside."

  "But you haven't told me anything. I told you."

  "I know. And I appreciate it. It's going to help me figure out how to make the Kings stay away."

  "Uh-uh," she says. "You don't get to leave me hanging."

  "Maybe not. But you haven't earned enough of my trust for me to tell you anything more."

  She glares at me for one long moment.

  Then it's, "Fuck you, Saunders," and she stalks up the dirt driveway to her house.

  Nice.

  I have to admire her spirit even if I don't like her. But that isn't going to stop me from making sure she and her family stay safe.

  There's not much cover on her street. Just a few scraggly palms, one of which is on her next door neighbour's lawn. I sit down under it, out of sight of her neighbour's windows, and call my mom to explain why I'm not home. She doesn't like it, but when I explain the situation, she doesn't argue. She just tells me to be careful.