"Josh doesn't need anybody's protection."
The dark eyes settle on me.
"That so?" Chico says. "Then who fucked up your face, boy?"
Before I can answer, Chaingang cuts in. "A word of advice. You really don't want to piss him off."
Chico's gaze flits to Chaingang, then back to me. But now he's studying me. I guess he's trying to figure out what he's missing, or if Chaingang's just yanking him.
"So you're a tough guy," Chico says.
"I didn't come to talk about that," I tell him. "I came to talk about the Lopez family."
"Yeah? So talk."
"I want to know what it would take for you to leave them alone."
"Me, I got no beef with them," Chico says. "Trucho—now that's another matter."
"Trucho and I came to our own agreement last night," I tell him.
I see a considering look come into Chico's eyes.
"That was you with the hitman from the Solís Cartel?"
"He's not with the cartel. He's an FBI agent. But none of that matters—" Chico holds up a hand, cutting me off.
"I need to check you for a wire," he says.
I glance at Chaingang and he gives me an almost imperceptible nod.
"Sure," I say. "Do your thing."
Someone comes up behind me, but Chico holds up his hand again.
"No pat down," he tells me. "Strip."
I don't bother to look at Chaingang this time. I just pull off my T-shirt and drop my cargos to the floor.
"Man, somebody really did a number on the little rat," Chico says as he takes in the bruises that cover my body.
A couple of the Kings snicker.
I shrug. "Have you seen enough?"
I'm not planning to take off my boxers, I don't care who Chico thinks he is.
"Sure, sure," Chico says. Then he adds, "So what're you doing with the FBI? We don't get mixed up with federal crap."
Yeah, I think as I pull up my pants. Like the drug trade doesn't cross State lines.
"He's just a guy I know," I tell him.
"So talking about him—is that supposed to scare me? Is that why you brought him up?"
"Actually, you brought him up."
I pull my T-shirt back on.
"Are you dissing me, boy?" Chico says.
I sigh. "That's twice you've called me 'boy,'" I tell him. "You know my name. Use it."
"Or what?"
I realize I have to change my approach. It's not that I'm so prideful, or that I haven't been called worse. It's just becoming clear that unless I do something drastic, this thug is never going to take me seriously. If it were just me, I'd walk away. But Marina and her family are at stake here and that's a whole other ball game.
I look at Chaingang. "I don't have time for this," I tell him. "Would you mind waiting outside?"
"Josh …"
I ignore the warning in his eyes. I know what he's trying to tell me. Be cool. Don't shift in front of civilians.
"Would you just do it?" I say, unable to keep the edge from my voice.
I don't know what he sees in my face, but he gives a slow nod and turns toward the door. I wait until I hear it close behind him, then I walk up to Chico's table. I think about all those action movies I've watched with Des and I feel stupid trying to play the part of one of their tough guy heroes. But it worked with Trucho and I need to do something to get Chico to actually listen.
"Okay," I tell him. "We've established that I'm not wearing a wire, you don't like black people, and somebody beat me up recently. Is that about it?"
He gives me the easy grin that still doesn't reach his eyes and spreads his hands.
"Come on, amigo," he says. "What makes you think I don't like—"
"I asked you, is that it?"
Those hard eyes of his go harder still.
"There's eleven of us," he says, "and you just sent the only chance you had to survive a fight with us out the door. Is this really how you want to play it … boy?"
I give him a smile that I'm not really feeling. Inside, I'm starting to feel nauseous. Only two things are keeping me standing: the thought of what'll happen to Marina and her family, and the mountain lion that's swelling under my skin, just aching to be let loose.
"Here's what I want," I tell him. "You leave the Lopez family alone. Period. Got it?"
"Or else what?"
"Or else I break the bunch of you into pieces, starting with you. And I won't stop like I did with Trucho last night. They're going to need body bags to drag you out of here by the time I'm done."
I hold his gaze until he suddenly laughs and leans back in his chair.
"Heh!" he says. "You really mean it. You've either got the biggest cojones of any kid I've ever met, or you're pure loco. Which is it …" He waits a long beat before he finishes with "Josh?"
But I'm done playing nice. I know I can't back down now that I've started.
"You didn't answer my question," I say. "Will you leave them alone?"
"It's not up to me, kid. It's up to Fat Boy."
"Then will you give him my message?"
Chico shakes his head. "You really don't want to pull this crap with Fat Boy. He chews up little boys like you for breakfast and spits out the bones."
"He won't find that as easy as he thinks."
"You know, you need to be taught some respect, kid." Chico says. "We're not just a bunch of cholos running around like we don't have a clue. You come against one of us, then you come up against us all. That's something you maybe should have thought about before you walked in here."
"Will you give him my message?" I repeat.
Chico gives me another shake of his head. "Fat Boy does whatever he wants and we do what he tells us. I'm not going to him with some crap like this."
"Then I guess I have to make you the message," I say.
He gives me another smile, but this one goes all the way up to his eyes.
"Oh, ese," he says, "you know you're not walking out of here in one piece—right?"
I know what I have to do. I have to make him know that I'm serious, just the way I did with Trucho last night. As I start for him, he makes a motion with his hand. I don't know what it means until it suddenly feels like I've been punched in the back.
No, not punched.
The sound is like a clap of thunder in this enclosed space.
I've been shot.
It's like when the goons from ValentiCorp Tasered me. Everything slows way down, but it's moving too fast at the same time. The impact lifts me off my feet and slams me against Chico's table. The bullet goes right through me. Blood sprays out of the sudden hole in my chest where the bullet bursts out.
The shock hits me first. Stuns me. My ears ring.
Then comes the pain.
I can feel everything shutting down inside and a great black wave is flooding my head.
The table tilts when I hit it and follows me down to the floor.
I try to suck in air, but my lungs are filling with blood.
I sprawl on the floor.
The edge of the table lands on my back and the impact makes me spew blood out of my mouth.
I remember Chaingang warning me: The Kings are all loco. There's no negotiating with them.
I should have listened to him.
Then in the flooding dark I hear Chico say, "This is how you send a message … boy."
Chaingang
Some have it and some don't. Some people can lay down the law with one look and there's no arguing. J-Dog can be like that—with the gang, no question, if not always with me. Grandma, every damn time. Hell, I'm twice her size and she could probably still give me a licking.
But Josh having that something?
If you'd asked me before today, I'd have had to laugh. He's a good kid, no question, but a leader? Sorry, that would be a big no.
But today. When we're standing in Casa Raphael—and he has to look up at me fercrissakes—I see the determination in his eyes. Back at my crib when he came to
my door, I saw a foreshadowing of this iron will, but nothing like this.
Don't get me wrong. He doesn't scare me. The only thing that scares me is getting attached to people because then you're at their mercy. They can be taken away or can turn their backs on you. Just walk out of your life all on their own.
Seeing Josh like this … now I get why the elders want him so badly. Why they need him to step up before everything goes to hell between the humans and us. Just look at him: Wildling, multiracial, raised by a single mom, a genuine true-blue guy with more than a bit of steel in him. The kind of kid who'll stand up to scrutiny while they run the show from the shadows.
So while my gut tells me that leaving him alone with the Kings is the last thing I should do, the Wildling in me says to let him call the shots here. And it's not because his mountain lion is so much bigger than the mouse in me. It's because there's something in who he is now that's bigger than I'll ever be. Josh standing in front of me in Casa Raphael with that big old mountain lion under his skin commands my respect.
So I walk out of the taquería.
But listen up, I'm not stupid. I don't trust the Kings because I've yet to meet one that isn't a little nuts.
So I walk over to my bike and grab the crowbar I keep sheathed along the bottom of the tank. I return to the door and stand there, listening, ready. Except when it happens, I'm way too late to do shit.
At the sound of the gunshot I slam through the door. The crowbar comes down on the gunman's arm so hard that the doctors are never going to be able to put all those bone shards back together. I tap the fool on his head with the crowbar as he's falling, and snatch his gun out of the air. Then I'm facing the room in a crouch, ready for anything.
Anything, except for what I see.
Jesus, Josh.
He's sprawled on the floor in front of Chico, the table lying half on him, and there's blood spurting everywhere. The banger I took out is unconscious on the floor beside me. There's dead silence. The rest of the King's all have handguns and a couple of shotguns pointed at me. All except for Chico. He's just sitting there with this shit-eating grin, Josh at his feet, the kid no longer breathing.
I point the gun at Chico and I hear the sudden shuffle of the other Kings as they get ready to blow me away.
"Hold up," Chico says to his men. "We don't want a war with the Ocean Avers over this."
"Oh, you've got a bigger problem than that," I tell him.
His eyebrows raise in a mocking look and I decide that's where I'll shoot him. Right between those cocky eyebrows and the grin.
"Killing my man here," I tell him, "you've just bought every Riverside King a death sentence."
Chico shakes his head. "What? You're going to kill all of us? I give the word, you're not even walking out of this room, ese."
I don't bother answering. He doesn't know what he's facing. I'm fast enough that I can probably take out half of them before they finally get me. And I'll start with Chico.
Except I never get the chance.
Marina
I ask Mr. Goss why we're going to the office but he just barks "No talking!" at me like we're in gym class. We make the rest of the trek from the bleachers to the office in silence. Ampora is fuming at my side and I can't figure out why she isn't worried about the girls like I am. I'm going to die if someone doesn't tell me something soon.
When we get to the office we're told to sit in the row of chairs across from the counter. Ampora waits until I sit down, then leaves an empty chair between us. The school secretary, Mrs. O'Shay, looks at us from behind the counter with a sad look in her eyes and the weight of my worry feels like it's going to crush me.
"Why won't they tell us anything?" I whisper to Ampora when Mr. Goss leaves.
Ampora turns to look at me. "Are you really that stupid?"
I give her a blank look in return. Why isn't she worried?
"Just let nothing have happened to the girls," I say.
There's finally a flash of worry in Ampora's eyes, but no sympathy in her voice.
"We're here," she says, "because you went loco on me out on the football field and somebody squealed."
"Is that all?"
I could almost hug her, I feel so relieved.
"I don't know about you," she says, "but if I get suspended my ass is grass. Papá is going to be so pissed off, and of course he's going to blame me, even though you're the one who started it."
I'm barely listening to her. The girls are okay. For that I'll happily trade a suspension, Mamá's disappointment and my probably being grounded for the rest of my life.
"Girls," Mrs. O'Shay says. "Principal Hayden will see you now."
She motions toward his office door.
"I am so not taking the fall for this," Ampora whispers to me as we walk into the principal's office.
Principal Hayden sits with his fingers steepled, elbows on his desk. He watches us come in and nods toward the chairs on the other side of his desk. We wait, but he doesn't say a word. He just watches us. Now that I know that this has nothing to do with my sisters, I'm content to wait it out. My Wildling nature has taught me patience, but I'm surprised that Ampora's just as ready to wait him out as I am. The hardest thing for me is to keep from smiling because Des has copied this pose a hundred times in the past.
"I know what you think," he finally says. "Anybody over twenty-five doesn't have a clue. But just because we don't say something, it doesn't mean we're blind to what's going on."
He falls silent again, this time giving us an expectant look.
"Is there a point to this?" Ampora asks before I can speak.
He nods. "Families are supposed to look out for each other."
"I don't see how that's school business," Ampora says.
"It becomes school business when verbal sparring escalates to physical confrontations."
I clear my throat. "Ampora had nothing to do with it," I tell him. "I'm the one who got angry and started pushing her around."
"I repeat," Principal Hayden says. "Do you really think we're unaware of what's been going on between the two of you?"
I shoot Ampora a quick look. She's got her hard face on—the angry mask she wears to keep the world at bay. I'm so familiar with that mask—and so sick of it—but I've long since given up trying to get through to her that we're not enemies. I didn't reject her and Papá. I left with Mamá because she needed me more. But Ampora never even tried to understand.
"It's no big deal," I tell Principal Hayden before Ampora can make this worse for us. "It's just—you know. Sister stuff. We don't take it seriously."
"And is that how you feel about it, too?" he asks Ampora.
She shrugs. "Sure," she says. "Let's go with that."
Principal Hayden sighs. "You know school policy about fighting on campus?"
"We weren't really fighting," I say quickly. "I know I gave her a push, but honestly, it was no big deal. And she didn't do anything."
"Except call you names every time the two of you pass in the hallway."
"She doesn't mean anything by it."
"I can speak for myself," Ampora says.
Principal Hayden nods. "So give me your take on it."
She looks at me, the ever-present anger smouldering in her eyes.
"I don't mean anything by it," she says.
"I don't see it that way," Principal Hayden says. He waits a beat to let that sink in, then goes on. "The report I received of what happened on the football field tells me it was more than a mere argument and a push. You know we have a zero-tolerance policy in this school."
He gives us each a stern look, so we nod. Thankfully, Ampora keeps her mouth shut. I'm starting to get a little scared now. Sure, I'm relieved that this isn't about the Kings going after our little sisters, but I've been grounded for two weeks now and I was really looking forward to getting my freedom back. That's never going to happen now.
"I should suspend you both," he says.
"But I didn't do anything," Ampora prot
ests.
"Not this time," he agrees. "But your ongoing harassment of your sister hasn't gone unnoticed, young lady. Some might think that she had good cause to finally strike back, even though school policy doesn't agree."
"This sucks," Ampora mutters under her breath.
I hope Principal Hayden didn't hear her—I certainly did—but like he said, he's not clueless. It's easy to read what she's thinking.
"But I'll consider not suspending you if you'll both do something for me," he goes on. "I want you to go to the guidance office and talk to Ms. Chandra about what's going on between the two of you. Starting at lunch tomorrow."
"You can't make us do that," Ampora says.
"That's absolutely correct," he agrees. "I could just give you both a three-day suspension."
I can sense all the air going out of Ampora and she slumps in her seat.
"Fine," she says. "I'll go see the shrink."
"Marina?" he asks.
I nod. "Yes sir. I'll go tomorrow."
"Excellent. Let's get this business between you cleared up. You can go to class now. Mrs. O'Shay will give you hall passes."
"This is such bullshit," Ampora says when we leave the office.
"It's better than a suspension."
She turns to me. "You know what? I like school. The only thing wrong with it is that no matter how much I try to avoid it, I still end up having to see your stupid face at least once a day."
Then she walks away.
Nice.
Josh
I feel light as air. Like I'm floating out of my body. The pain is gone and it's so calm drifting here. Everything's dark but it's a welcoming dark. The kind that feels like a warm bed, late on a Sunday morning when there's no reason to get up. If I just let myself go, I'll sink through the bed, deep into the ground, the ghost of a Wildling boy disappearing into the dirt, all the way down through the bedrock until whatever it is that makes me who I am is one more part of everything that is.
From far away I can hear voices—Chaingang and Chico—but I can't make out what they're saying. I just know they're angry. I don't know why. Words don't seem important anymore, it's so peaceful here.
But thinking of Chaingang brings me back to what's happening to me.
Over My Head (Wildlings) Page 12
