6
The wet clothes were hung up to dry where no one would find them, and David’s dry deliveries were folded and packed into his bag, ready to be exchanged for food and essentials. Will and David stood at the mouth of the bustling market.
It was a wide hallway, with classrooms on either side. Each gang transformed their own room into a trading post, in which they offered their particular goods and services. The floor was marred with dirt, tracked in from the quad. All the ceiling lights worked, a rarity in McKinley. Other than in the trading rooms, the gangs did not mix. Each stayed with their own and traveled in large groups from room to room until their shopping was done.
David had deliveries to make to the Geeks and the Sluts. He strode into the market, with Will a step behind. A surly group of Skaters stepped out of a classroom and crossed the hall in front of him. A pack of Freaks crossed too, from the other direction, making it tough for David and Will to pass. David got a good whiff of the toilet bowl cleaner they used to dye their hair blue. He’d never understand how they could live with the chemical smell.
The two groups slowed as they passed each other. They bared their teeth, cracked their necks, and walked far too close to be friendly. One Freak’s face was badly busted up. He shoved a Skater. Both gangs tensed for a fight. David watched the Skater. If he attacked, David knew both gangs would go at it. He recognized the kid, Jason he thought his name was.
David remembered that Jason and the busted-up Freak were really tight before the quarantine; they always ate lunch together, just the two of them. Jason spit at the Freak and walked away. His gang followed him. David relaxed.
He and Will approached the guard outside of the Geeks’ trading post. The guard had his hair died in multicolored stripes.
“Laundry for Zachary,” David said.
The guard nodded them in. There were tables of drawings from art Geeks on offer, all too expensive unless you were a Varsity or a Pretty One. A girl with caramel skin sat on a stool and sang her own take on a ballad that was on top of the charts right before the quarantine. A bucket drummer and a kid with a three-string guitar accompanied her. David watched her rock her hips back and forth slower than pouring honey as she pushed out the high notes. All the Geeks dyed their hair black with charcoal as a foundation, then added touches of loud color by dying sections of their hair or weaving colored things through it. They dressed in bright colors as well, with carefully chosen items of individual flair.
As a group, they were boisterous, bawdy, and generally hard to miss, which was probably the point. They wanted all eyes on them.
But no one commanded as much attention as their leader, Zachary. He wore a cape. It was made out of two school flags sewn together and slathered with gold poster paint. That would have won the battle for attention right there, but he was the only boy in school to buy the wigs the Pretty Ones sold. Today his hair was long white braids, with ribbons of brightly colored paper woven through them.
“David!” Zachary said and clutched David’s hand melodra-matically. “I knew you’d come.”
“Got your laundry here.”
“Why are you really here? Let’s talk about that.”
“Laundry.”
“You tease and you tease.” Zachary squinted at David and smiled. “That’s probably why our first kiss will be so electric.”
“More likely, that would be a taser I’m hitting you with,” David said with a smile, and pulled a stack of Zachary’s clean clothes out of his rolling bag.
Zachary chuckled, loving it. “You could be an actor, David.
Think about it. I’ll write a scene for us. It could be in the next Geek show.”
“I’m shy,” David said with a grin.
Zachary held out six Geek show tickets, but drew them back when David reached for them.
“Do you love me?”
“Oh, Jesus,” Will said. He shook his head and walked over to a table where tattoo designs were displayed.
“David, what’s with him?” Zachary said. “I know he’s your brother but… attitude adjustment, please!”
“He’s jealous of your hair, which looks fantastic today, by the way,” David said.
“Mmm. I’ll have more clothes for you tomorrow, pretty lips,” Zachary said.
Zachary handed him the tickets with a wiggle of his eyebrows. David collected Will from the tattoo area and hurried to the hall.
“Are you sure you’re not gay?” Will said. “I can’t believe you go along with that stuff. I wouldn’t have.”
“You’re so homophobic.”
“You can’t call me homophobic for not wanting to flirt with Zachary. But I can call you gay, because you want to have a bubble bath with him.’”
“Gotta keep the customers happy.”
“You mean horny.”
David laughed. He held up a bundle of black clothes for the tall girl on guard duty at the Sluts’ doorway.
“Go ’head,” she said.
Before David could enter, a herd of eight blonde Varsity linebackers trudged out of the room. David spun his back to them. He whipped his black hood over his head. He hoped his body blocked their view of Will. They sounded drunk. He could almost feel a hand about to thud down onto his shoulder, but then their footsteps faded.
He opened his eyes. Will was looking at him with a face like he’d just sniffed rotten milk. David dared a look over his shoulder. Varsity was gone. Why were they here? Did they not go first today? They always demanded to trade first. That was why David had spent so much time washing clothes earlier, to avoid them. But this was a jarring reminder that no matter how many precautions he took, he was never truly safe.
Will shook his head and walked ahead of David into the Sluts’ trading post.
Inside was an expanse of red hair. You could tell what fla-vor of Kool-Aid the girls used, cherry here, fruit punch there, a faded pink that probably was strawberry but needed a redye. Two Sluts slap-boxed just inside the entrance. Nearly all of them wore tight black pants, and there wasn’t a sleeve left attached in the whole room. The Sluts were not a rich gang, they had no special item or service, but they traded almost everything. If you wanted it, they probably had it, which was great for anyone who didn’t want to, or couldn’t, get their supplies from Varsity. The Sluts were the only gang with an open-door policy. As long as you were female and you were willing to fight tooth and nail on the quad, you could have a place in the Sluts.
David spotted their founder, Violet Kelly, behind a trading table nearby. She went by the name Violent now. Violent wore football shoulder pads with pencils sticking up out of them like porcupine quills and a necklace made of sharpened cafeteria cutlery. Violent had the reddest hair in school, and her eyes were vibrant green. She had shaved off her white eyebrows and replaced them with fake ones made of carefully cut pieces of black electrical tape.
David approached her. She was counting out condoms for a Geek girl, who traded them for a three-pack of fresh athletic socks.
“Got your order,” he said.
Violent looked up at David, her face pinched in aggravation.
“What?”
“Delivering your stuff.”
“Oh. These better be spotless, Jacob.”
“It’s David, but yes, don’t worry… they’re clean.” She stayed suspicious as another Slut collected the laundry.
David could never tell if he really had remained a stranger to Violent week after week, or if she just wanted him to think so.
“Didn’t I call you ‘Ragman’ last time? I like that. That’s your name, Ragman.”
“You could call me David,” he said. Violent didn’t laugh. He pushed on. “So, we’re looking for the usual, a
