“We need you,” Belinda said, her voice choked with emotion. “You’re the one we’ve been waiting for.” David realized he’d walked right into a trap. He let the pipe slide out of his sleeve and lifted it up, ready to swing. He clenched his face at Belinda, and she cowered.
“You lookin’ to sell me out to Varsity? Huh? I’m not your meal ticket.” David said.
“We want you to lead us. Our gang,” Belinda said. David lowered the pipe a little.
“Huh?” He would have laughed, but he was too on edge.
“A gang for Scraps,” Belinda continued, tears welling up again. “So we can have rights, fight for our fair share together, and y’know, protect each other.”
The look on her face had no hint of humor to it.
“I’ve got bigger problems right now,” David said.
“Yeah, but…” Belinda’s voice jumped to a desperate octave.
“No, but that’s the whole thing. If there was a gang for us, then you wouldn’t have had to do what you did yesterday. That girl woulda had someplace to go.”
David could admit that the idea was nice-safety in numbers, a team of people he could trust to take care of Will after he left, a place for Lucy as well. But how? Take on Varsity and every other gang with these six misfits at his back? They’d never stand a chance.
“I’m not your guy. I’m nothing special,” David said.
“Yeah, but no, but you are. You’re the one! You stood up to them. If other Scraps knew you were doing it, they’d join.
They’ll follow you, David,” Belinda said.
He looked over to the twins. The boy had his head tilted back and his mouth open, trying to catch droplets from the sprinkler. The girl twin held her dirty hands like a gutter to catch more water and funnel it into her brother’s mouth.
“I’m leaving,” David said, and tucked his pipe into his sleeve. He gently moved Belinda to the side. She grabbed his hand with both of hers and held on to it as he crouched and entered the hole.
“No, but please,” she said.
David looked back at her and saw a pain that he recognized, the frustration of giving your heart and soul and watching everything still go to shit anyway. For a moment he wanted to
say yes, that he would be their captain, that he would take on the school, that he’d prove her right, but he didn’t speak. He let the moment pass.
“I’m sorry.”
She let his fingers slip from hers as he crossed into the stinking math room. David opened the door to the hallway and poked his head out. Totally empty. It was still early. He knew Varsity was up and lurking, but most of the school was still asleep. He might have time. He had to find out if Will was okay. He jogged in the direction of the Skaters once again.
David hit the stairs fast. He ran for a couple minutes. He was in Geek territory, not far from the auditorium. David stared down a long hallway. Geeks slept in the rooms on either side. He ran down it, hoping to reach the end as fast as he could. A third of the way down the hallway, the ceiling lights flickered on.
It must have been later than he thought. David poured on the speed, but Geeks began to spill out of the classrooms, ready to start the day. He drew his hood even farther over his face, kept the pipe at the ready up his sleeve, and slowed to a brisk walk. He felt sure that, past the green fabric of his hood, every eye in the hallway was pointed right at him. He was completely exposed.
He kept his eyes glued to the floor and only looked up when he had to. He passed a pair of kids chatting on his left side.
He waited for a comment. A shout. The clapping of footsteps after him. But nothing happened.
Another pair of Geeks approached, lugging water. David held his breath. They passed without a word.
Halfway down the hallway, more students began stepping out from classrooms. And then more. And more. It seemed like they were never going to stop. Like a nightmare. David hunched over and picked up the pace. He nearly collided with someone and got a peeved “Watch it!” thrown his way. He kept walking, but just as he rounded the corner, a voice rang out.
“Hey, it’s you!”
The voice sounded like it had come from directly in front of him. David flinched and looked up, expecting the worst.
The source was a scruffy band Geek with a sharp nose and pockmarked cheeks. But he wasn’t shouting at David. He was pointing at another kid next to David who held a Frisbee.
“I knew it was you! What, were you just never going to give it back?”
David glanced at the Frisbee thief next to him, who was fumbling for a response. For a moment he didn’t know what to do. He was still frozen, as if he’d been caught. The thief made eye contact with David and recognition flashed in his eyes.
David aimed his eyes back at the floor and strode forward, but it was too late. He heard the noise of a phone camera shutter behind him. In two seconds, the Frisbee thief was at David’s left side, walking in unison with him.
“Hey, you’re David, right?”
David ignored him and lengthened his stride. The kid backed off for a moment, then matched David’s new pace.
“Yo, what’s your problem, man? Back off,” David spat out, mustering faux anger. He didn’t want to look at the kid, but it was tough to achieve a scary “Back off!” when he was looking straight at the floor.
“You’re him! I was in Spanish with you,” the kid said. “Taylor.
That’s my name. Remember?”
“I didn’t take Spanish,” David lied. But he remembered Taylor.
“Tayloroso,” he used to call himself. Every time Senora Perez went around the room asking each student “ Como estas?” when she got to Taylor he would answer with a spicy flair, “ Yo siento muy… Tayloroso! ” The kid was annoying.
Tayloroso held his phone up, trying to get a shot of David’s face. David broke into a run.
“Hey! Hold on! I want to talk to you,” Tayloroso shouted, running after him. When David didn’t stop, Tayloroso yelled at the top of his lungs, “Hey, it’s the kid who killed that Varsity!” David pushed hard and gained a slight burst of speed. He heard shouts of recognition from the other students. Someone pulled David’s hood off. It didn’t matter now. He had to keep moving. He flicked his head back to see just how many kids he was dealing with. Five more were running beside Tayloroso.
“That’s him! That’s the guy!” Tayloroso hollered.
Groggy kids poked their heads out of classrooms. Some of them grabbed at his sweatshirt and laughed. They swarmed
behind him. His legs wouldn’t move fast enough; it felt like a nightmare. David let the pipe slide down out of his sleeve and into his hand. Maybe the sight of a weapon would keep them away.
Wishful thinking. Someone snatched the pipe out of David’s hand. He looked back at the mob chasing him as he rounded a corner. His vision flared white. He hit the floor before he realized he’d been punched. David blinked through the haze and the pain and saw two Varsity guys towering over him.
A third person stepped between them. It was Sam. His voice was the last thing David heard before an incoming Varsity fist smashed his vision to black.
“Tell everyone. The execution of David Thorpe starts in ten minutes.”
11
David awoke when something long and cold and rubbery coiled around his neck and choked his throat shut. The white-hot light of the market seared his eyes at first. A crowd of people stared at him. That thing that gripped his neck, it yanked him up, it bit under his jaw and bent his head down; pain cut up through his neck like a cleaver. He had no air. David dangled by his neck, toes scraping for the floor, fingernails raking at his windpipe. He tried to
