I broke step with the other guys and took off down the alley just past Whar’s Burger Joint. I hid behind the wall beside a steel ladder for a moment and looked back to see if anyone had noticed my leaving. It had rained all night so the air was thick with moisture. I could hear temporary streams trickling over the broken asphalt roads, and water dripping. The wind blew through the poplar in front of Ware’s, and if I listened hard I could hear the guys cutting up about a hundred yards away. They had not noticed that I was gone yet. I thought I might be clear of them for ten or twenty minutes. I turned back to the ally and ran as fast as I could while dodging little puddles in the half paved walkway between the dingy cramped houses of the inner-burg. If the guys saw they might beat me. I could take one or two of them, but Jarko Williams was bound to take more offence than the others. He was muscle-bound as a fit 35 year old man and not a day older than twelve, which was a whole year older than me. He would knock my teeth in and there would be no stopping him. I could try and kick him in the balls, but he would over power me anyway. Nope. I did not want the guys to find me.
I ducked under the corner of Mrs. Linda’s big screen porch and waited for the guys to step into the Soda Shop. We had been going to the Soda Shop when I ditched.
That is how we started a day of terrorizing. First, we would go in a pack of thirteen or fourteen boys to the Soda Shop and harass old man Geeter. Geeter was probably the nicest old man who ever lived, and he’d abide us because we were young. I don’t think he felt any real affection for us though, and no wonder. We were rotten. We pinched a lot of snacks, and then paid for sodas to justify being there. From there Jarko would lead us up past the old school to the final field.
The final field was the last field set aside for human occupation before the fields for livestock and crops began. It ran along the edge of the outer-burg. There was a brick wall 15 feet tall with ornate concrete statues on the top of pillars spaced every 20 ft or so, and a playground ran alongside it for miles and miles, monkey bars and seesaws, that sort of thing. There was the occasional statue. Most the statues were busts of Senate members which were always young men with kind faces. Next to the playground there was a wide field with well manicured grass. This also ran for miles creating a perimeter around the Burg.
We would eat our snacks there and wait for anyone to come by. Jarko would light a cigarette and peer across the field from his perch on a picnic table. He stole the cigarettes from his father, and sometimes he would share. Sometimes he would even bring a beer. Most of the time he did not share, and I liked that fine.
It wasn’t that I liked or didn’t like the cigarettes. I have no idea what I think about cigarettes since I’ve never smoked more than few puffs from one. What I hate is the pressure to handle the cigarette puff like it is something I’ve done all my life, like I’m Humphrey Bogart living out my life in black and white. All the guys feel the pressure. The pressure is in everything, and so was Jarko. That was the way of things.
A month or two ago, Jarko was sitting on his picnic table like a captain at the helm of a ship when a little blond girl a few years younger than me came walking down that old road by the field with the playground beside it. She came walking our way, and Jarko watched her come. She wore a sundress and carried flowers. Jarko called out,
“Hey, give me those flowers!” She eyed Jarko and kept walking. Jarko called out again,
“You hear me? Give me those! Hey Jack, go get me those flowers.”
It took me a moment to realize he was talking to me. I walked toward the little girl with my hand out. She looked at me and then back at Jarko. She said,
“I’m not giving you these flowers.” Then she crossed her arms. I looked to Jarko. Jarko spoke for me.
“Yes, you are.”
“No I am not,” she said.
“Oh yes you are. Jack, punch her.” I looked to Jarko pleading, but he was glowering. I looked at the guys. Johny, Manny, Tink, Amos, and Jade each looked at me in turn and nodded assent. The rest of the pack looked vacant. I punched her on the nose, and she fell to the ground. Jarko started to laugh, and so all the guys started laughing. I went to take the flowers from her but Jarko said,
“Hey what are you doing?”
“I’m going to pick up the flowers. Don’t you want the flowers?” I said.
“No. I want her to give me the flowers.” My heart sank.
“Hey Jack,” Jarko left his perch and walked to my side, “punch her again.”
“Punch her again?”
“Yeah, sure, punch her. She won’t die. Punch her.” I punched in the stomach, and she let out a wail.
“Now kick her.” I kicked her.
“Again!” I kicked her again.
“In the face.” I kicked her in the face.
“Now Jack, I want you to ask her for the flowers. Ask your girlfriend for the flowers.” I held out my hand, and she gave me the flowers. The guys all laughed. A few of them came and patted me on the back. I was a hero. After a while the guys played a game of soccer in the field. I stayed where I was, and watched the little girl.
She lay still for a long time. After that she cried for a long time, and later she lay still whimpering. It was probably an hour later that she got up and walked back the way she had come. I didn’t help her. I just watched. The left side of her face was bruised and bleeding.
I still have those flowers. I took them home and hung them upside-down in the window. They dried out. It bothers me to look at those flowers. I feel sick when I see them, so I have to keep them. That was a month or two ago, but today I wouldn’t have to beat anyone. I had a plan.
I ran to the Auto Shop. The Auto Shop used to work on cars, but since we don’t use those anymore it is just an abandoned building full of useful things. I poured bleach and another cleaner into a 20 oz bottle. Then I lowered a cloth filled with aluminum filings through the top of the bottle with a string, and tied the string around the bottle so it would stay where it was. I put the cap on loosely and put the bottle into a cardboard box and labeled it “FRAGIL: THIS WAY UP” With an arrow pointing up. I walked to the Soda Shop very slowly. I tightened the top on the bottle and taped the top of the box just before walking into the shop.
Jarko was the first to meet me.
“Hey Jack, where ya been. I was going to buy you a soda.” He clapped me on the back so hard it hurt. I said, “I had to go get a package from my Ma to bring to my Pa at work. Do you think I could get the day off?”
“Day off? You think this is work? Let me see that.” Jarko took the package and walked it to the porch outside the Soda Shop. He sat in a chair, and pulled out a pocket knife. He opened the top of the box and pulled out the bleach bomb I had made. He looked at me square and level, and then smiled. He said, “I don’t think your Ma likes your Pa very much.” His grin almost looked genuine. “That’s ok. We can have fun with this.” He stood up shook the bleach bomb and threw it inside the Soda Shop. There was a loud pop and the sound of some broken glass. Jarko shouted, “Alright! If you got hurt, you weren’t paying attention, and you are out. That means I’ll be coming for you. So heal up.” Adults were running to the shop now. There was a siren. Jarko started walking to the final field like any other day, and seven of us followed.
When we got to the final field Jarko punched me in the face. I flew back a step and landed on my back. He said, “Jack that took guts. The rest of you, if you have questions, ask Jack.” Then he walked to his picnic table, sat, and lit a cigarette. We were all quiet and listened to the sirens as it started to rain again.
