Firebirds Rising

by Sharyn November

  After supper, we went for a walk. We talked with the neighbors for a while outside the building. I was playing with the baby of the couple downstairs, so I don’t know how it started, but I heard the old guy who lived across the street say, “…just a dealer, so excuse me if I don’t cry.”

  “Was it an overdose?” asked the baby’s mom.

  The old guy shook his head. “The cops say people were chasing him last night after dark, and he grabbed his chest and fell into the lake near the Ramble. Heart attack. A drug dealer, having a heart attack.”

  “Good riddance,” said the baby’s father. “But how could anybody see to chase him?”

  “It was a full moon,” Aunt Lucy and I said at the same time. She smiled at me and said, “Jinx,” because we had echoed each other. She looked at the other grown-ups. “Plenty of light for a chase.”

  I shivered. The baby’s mom saw and collected her from me. “It’s getting cold,” she said. I didn’t argue, though I don’t think I had shivered because I was cold.

  When I got to school in the morning, my life had definitely improved. Suddenly my two friends and I had more company at lunch. They liked that. I did, too.

  I didn’t exactly like it when, at the next meet, Coach pulled me out to run with the juniors and seniors. “You started this, you finish it, Corey,” she muttered as she changed my place in the lineup. So I ran the way I did alone, and made the two best runners sweat to beat me. The Pride thought it was cool. They cheered for me at meets. At the All-District competitions, when I had the hundred-meter and the three-hundred-meter events, Felix gave me an ornament from his braid to wear, a little golden sun. I came in second in the hundred, first in the three hundred. He wouldn’t take his sun back. He kissed me and told me to wear it instead.

  I told myself he kissed all the girls. Then I went out and got a top-of-the-ear piercing done just for that earring. Once it was there, I looked at myself in the mirror and let myself dream about him.

  The night after the last practice, I was on my way home when I saw one of the Neighborhood Watch people taking down the sketch of a rapist who had been working the Upper East Side. This one, with his spiky eyebrow piercing, had given me the shivers for weeks. “What happened?” I asked her. I was going home to an empty apartment—Aunt Lucy had finally convinced Mom a girl who was almost sixteen didn’t need a babysitter—so I was being lazy about getting there. “They caught him?”

  “They caught him,” the woman said with a grim smile, like she had been there. “The cops got an anonymous tip. He was at the bottom of Bethesda Terrace with a broken leg and a broken arm.” I winced. That was a long, hard marble stair around the big fountain in Central Park. She told me, “Bastard said he was out for a run and he tripped. They found his rape kit under him, complete with souvenirs. He said a gang chased him. Good for them, that’s what I say.” She waved the flyers she’d already collected at me. “One down, plenty more to go.”

  I went on home, shaking my head. Whoever heard of a gang that chased somebody until they fell, then ran away? And who tipped off the cops? How did they know who he was?

  I told the Pride about the rapist at lunch the next day.

  “Cool gang,” said Felix, laughing. He had a new addition to his braid that day, a spiky bar that could have been for an eyebrow piercing. “It captures criminals. A superhero gang. Maybe I can join. Do they wear cool jackets?”

  We all cracked up. Maybe they called themselves a Pride, but I thought of bandannas and leather jackets and box cutters and low-rider cars when I thought “gang.” These were trust fund babies. They were a world away from the ugly street and the gangs in the projects like the ones I knew. They were strong young animals dressed in light and fresh air, not dirt and blood.

  “Hey, maybe it was us. We hang in the park when school’s out,” black-haired Jeffries said, tossing a rolled-up napkin from hand to hand. “Sure, it coulda been us. Except I’d probably just give a rapist my dad’s card. He’s always telling me even slime deserves a defense, right?”

  Beauvais shoved him. “Like your dad would defend a rapist.”

  “One with money,” Han said with a laugh. She sounded as Chinese as I did.

  I smelled mint as Felix leaned back and whispered in my ear, “Sometimes we hang out after dark.”

  I reached down for my backpack, hiding my chest so he wouldn’t see his effect on me. “Isn’t it dangerous?” When I sat up, I cradled my pack, just in case he looked at my too-perky tits.

  “We go as a group,” Jeffries said. “Our gang, remember?”

  “Have to be safe,” Reed told us, sprawled over her section of the table. “Parental units throw a fit if they find out you’re out in the scary old park.”

  Felix ran a hand down my arm. Of course the bell rang and monitors came out to move us along to class. Felix grabbed my wrist and tugged me down till his lips brushed the little sun in the top of my ear. “The next full moon, come out with us,” he whispered. “We meet at the East Ninety-seventh Street entrance and go for a run to the Loch, just the Pride. You want to really be one of us, be one of my lionesses, right? You’d maybe even replace Reed one day as queen of the hunt. So come. Not a word to anybody, Corey. Pride business. Nine o’clock, the night of the full moon.”

  I had laughed at the Pride as a gang. But as a way to erase the misery of the last few years? It was pure gold. The presidents of the new senior and junior classes for next year belonged to the Pride, as well as the captains of both track teams and both soccer teams. Okay, so Felix seemed to be the boyfriend of almost all the girls off and on. The guys didn’t seem to mind. Rich kids were different. A little of Felix was better than none, maybe. Or maybe he’d settle for only me.

  I wouldn’t be alone anymore. I wouldn’t be weird, or strange. I’d belong, not as a happy outsider, like Mom and her family, but as a happy insider, smooth and tan and laughing, like my dad and his new family. As choices went, this one was easy.

  So I was there, the night of the full moon, dressed to run, but dressed for Felix, too, in a black tank top and running shorts that hugged what I had. I thought about leaving my crescent pendant at home, but left it on. How many people knew what it was anymore? A lot of girls wore them as jewelry without knowing they had a religious meaning, or caring if they knew. I added a snake earring and a couple of gem studs, fixed a gold chain in my braid, and I was ready to go. No bracelets, no ankle bracelets, not when I ran. I carried my phone, my water, a towel, and other things I hoped I might need in my backpack.

  Felix and some of the other guys of the Pride looked me over and made happy noises. Felix backed a couple of them off with slaps on the chest that could have been serious. The lionesses wore shorts like me, or cropped cargo pants, short blouses, running shoes. The guys wore shorts and T-shirts, summer wear. When Reed finally showed, wearing cargos, we set out across the park, a group of about seven girls and eight guys. Other people were out; it was still early enough and the moon was starting to rise. We passed dog walkers and other runners, bicyclists, skateboarders, Rollerbladers, men sitting alone on benches with paper bags beside them, men seated alone on benches waiting, arms stretched out on the backs of the benches, legs spread wide, a warning in flesh not to come too close. The girls of the group moved inside, the guys outside, though no one seemed nervous or even like they paid attention. I wondered what Mom was doing now.

  There were peepers chirping all around us from the trees that circled the meadows. We moved out onto the grass and toward the rocks that led to the oldest part of Central Park, where trees from the old island had been left to grow beside Olmstead’s carefully chosen plantings. I could hear an owl somewhere close by. There were bugs everywhere, big ones, some of them. A moth fluttered past. A rippling shadow darted after it and surrounded it. The bat moved on, but not the moth. Central Park, that seemed so people-friendly when we did our practices there during the day, was showing its real face now. I touched my snake earring, thinking about the hidden world, the one my f
amily recognized.

  We moved into a smaller meadow near the rocks and trees. “Our hunting ground,” Felix said, looping an arm around my neck. “One of them, anyway. This one was our first ground. This is where we became a Pride. A person could get lost back in those trees.”

  “A person could get found,” said one of the guys. The boys laughed.

  The girls didn’t. They put their stuff in a heap and began to stretch, getting ready to run. “Put your gear down,” Felix said. “We’ll keep an eye on it. Used to be around here we couldn’t do that, but things have changed late—”

  “You.” A big guy, ragged and swaying, lurched over to us. “You stinking kids. You play games with my friend and leave him in the street like garbage—”

  Felix let me go and faced the homeless guy, fiddling with his long braid and its ornaments. “Which one was he?” Felix asked, sounding bored. “I guess you’re talking about one of our hunts, loser.”

  “You made him run onto Fifth Avenue,” the man accused. His eyes glittered in the moonlight as he watched the Pride fan out around him. Everywhere I saw shadowy figures moving, but none came to help or stop whatever was happening. This was a harder end of the park, closer to Spanish Harlem. I would never have come here alone.

  “That one?” asked Jeffries with a yawn. “He wagged his dick at Han.”

  “My feelings were hurt,” Han said with a pout. “It wasn’t even a good dick.”

  “You chased him and got him killed,” the big guy snarled. “I’m gonna fuck you up.” He had knives, one in either hand. “Little rich bastards think you can run people to death.”

  My head spun as Felix put his arm around my neck again. “Okay, Corey, here’s how it works,” he explained, keeping his eyes on the big guy. “The lionesses have their claws. Right, girls?”

  They held up their hands. They had slim knives I had never seen before, tucked between their fingers so a couple of blades jutted out of each fist, like claws. They were busily tying the blades to their palms with leather thongs so they wouldn’t fall from their hands.

  “We lions keep him from leaving the grass. The lionesses drive him to you. You have to mark his face without him killing you. Then you girls drive him into the rocks”—Felix pointed—“and the lions chase him down and finish him. You get the trophy to mark your initiation.” Felix smiled down at me. “Here. Your first claw.” He handed me a long, slender knife. “The trick is to run him till he’s too exhausted to see straight. One of these scumbags, it’s not hard. They don’t have any lungs left because they’re eaten up by crack, and their muscles suck because they’re too lazy to work. Don’t worry about cops. We have watchers, and they don’t investigate this kind of thing very hard. They have a saying for it.” He looked at the homeless man. “No Humans Involved.”

  My mouth felt stuffed with cotton. I wondered if I’d been drugged, except I’d been drinking from my own water bottle all the way here. “That’s not funny.”

  “Sure it is,” Felix told me. “One strong, healthy runner against a degenerate bum. It’s hilarious.”

  “You killed his friend?” I asked. I could hear my voice shake.

  “No,” Felix said patiently. “The stupid mope ran out in traffic and got killed. Another useless mouth who isn’t getting state aid. Corey, you’re either a lion or a mouse.”

  My brain clattered into gear. “The drug dealer that got chased. The rapist that got chased.”

  “Scum. Scum,” Felix said patiently. His eyes sparkled oddly in the growing moonlight. “Girls, get this hump moving.”

  The lionesses surged forward, running out to circle around the homeless man. They looked small and slight against his shadowy bulk, but they surrounded him. He flailed with his knives. One girl darted in, then another. The man bellowed.

  “No!” I cried, and dropped my knife. “This isn’t an initiation. It’s murder.” I looked at him, wanting him to be gold again, not this white marble boy with eyes like ice. “Felix, are you crazy? I swear I won’t tell, but I can’t do this.”

  He made a cutting motion. The lionesses fell back, except for Reed. She pulled something from a pocket in her cargo pants and showed it to the homeless man. He put up his hands, letting his own knives drop. She had a gun. So that was how they made sure things always went their way. She motioned with it. The homeless guy ran, stumbling. He fell once and lurched to his feet.

  “Don’t hope he’ll bring the cops, Corey,” Felix said. “His kind knows better. And since you ruined our hunt with him, you’ll take his place. Which is fine with us.”

  I stared at him.

  “See, the cops will listen to you,” Felix explained. “And frankly, most of us would rather have you for prey.”

  “You don’t belong,” Han said. “Not at the Academy. You don’t understand how to wait your turn, making us eat your shit at the meets this spring. Sure, we laughed. We knew you’d be coming out here with us.” She smiled and drew her knives gently down my chest. They didn’t cut—this time.

  My choices were clear. Argue or move, fast. I broke left, out of Felix’s hold, away from Han. Three lionesses blocked my escape on that side. I whirled and darted in the opposite direction, jinking around Reed, then Jeffries, feeling my knees groan as my shoes bit into turf. I dashed for the rocks, but the lionesses swept out and around me, long-limbed and beautiful, moonlight gleaming on their muscled arms and legs. I’d lost surprise, and I knew all of them were good enough to give me a good run. I set out for the longer meadow to see if I could outlast them.

  Bad luck: two of the lions joined them. I couldn’t outrun or outlast lions. I kept running, looking for a way out. All I found was an audience. People had come to line the meadow’s edge, homeless people, kids our age and older in gang colors—real gang colors. Hard-faced women and men, and men on their own, smoking, drinking, watching. There for a show. They knew. They knew this went on, and they came to see.

  Still, I had to run. I searched for an opening not covered by a watcher or a member of the Pride. I don’t remember how the first lioness crept up on me, but I felt that sharp sting on my back. I stumbled, swerved, clapped my hand behind me, and brought it up before my face. It glittered with blood. I spun and fell, tripping a lioness whose dad was president of some investment bank. She had been trying to be the second to cut me. I scrambled to my feet and bolted forward again, weaving between two more of the lionesses. Now the fear was filling my legs, turning my knees to jelly.

  The next to rake my arm was Reed, who I liked. I got out of her reach and stayed away to ask, “Why are you doing this?”

  Her eyes were wide and dark and hot. Her teeth shone in a moonlight grin. “Because I can,” she said, and faked left, trying to drag my attention from Beauvais. I turned and dashed, tripped on a wrinkle in the ground, hit and rolled to my feet, flailing with my arms and legs for balance. I felt a blade catch in my shoe. It almost yanked me off my feet.

  “Because you don’t stay the best without practice.” Someone scored a long shallow cut across my head and ear and forehead, coming out of my blind spot.

  I bolted and came up against one of the huge boulders that marked the edge of the broken ground leading up into the trees. I scrabbled and crawled onto it, panting, as the Pride moved in, forming a half circle around the base of the stone. Felix was there, toying with his braid. The lionesses stood with him, panting, some of them leaning on their knees. They were tired. I’d shown them some moves.

  But my muscles were burning. I felt a bad shiver in my calves and hamstrings, a sign I was overworked. I ripped off my tank top, not caring if every creep in the park saw me in my sports bra. I tore the cloth into strips with hands that quaked. That shallow cut on the side of my head was the worst, dripping blood into the corner of my eye. I needed to get that covered up if I had to run again.

  “Too bad you blew it, Corey,” Felix said, his voice almost like sex. “Nobody’s ever given the lionesses a run like this. The prey is usually blood sushi by now.” He was g
etting off on this, maybe like he’d been getting off on the whole game of luring me in.

  With my head and my arm bandaged, I grabbed my crescent pendant with one hand, squeezing it so hard the pointed ends bit into my palm, letting the pain clear my head. I wouldn’t answer. I needed my breath for running. Screaming was useless. Screaming in Central Park at night was so useless. Here, away from the park’s roads, the only way I’d get lucky would be if horse cops or undercover cops were somewhere near, and I had a feeling that ring of creeps would warn Felix about them. They wouldn’t want anyone to spoil the fun.

  There was leaf and earth litter between my boulder and the one behind it. I carefully felt around at my side for what rocks or glass pieces might be there. I’d need them for weapons.

  “Now, you can come down here and race the lionesses some more,” Felix said. He threw a bottle of water up to me. “Or we can play the next level.”

  “Shit,” I heard one panting lioness say.

  “Pick door number two, Corey,” another of them advised, her voice hoarse.

  I stared at him, then at the bottle. For a minute a black haze fizzed over my vision. My life, my blood, was a game? I reached for the bottle, ready to throw it straight back at his head and say “Fuck you”—but there was the gun. Reed had a gun.

  I should drink the water. I’d lost so much fluid. But that was a bad idea, too. I wouldn’t put it past Felix to drug the water to slow me down. He couldn’t gamble on the cops being somewhere else all night. He’d want to end this.

  So I threw it at him after all. He dodged, but I struck Han in the shoulder. She swore at me. Felix only shook his head. “A waste. I didn’t think you were a hothead, Corey.”