Blood Brothers by Keith Latch Page A

of gawkers, no one had heard
the conversation between him and Kelly. Of course there was no way
to be certain. The way it looked, someone had heard.
    “Don’t cry about it, Romeo.” That was Ricky.
He made a face, his lips pouting and rubbing his eyes, wiping away
imaginary tears.
    “That’s right, fat ass. Didn’t you know your
sweetheart Kelly has the hots for my buddy, Ricky here?”
    “That’s right, chubs. I can’t believe you
were so stupid to think my girl would even look at you.”
    “At least without getting sick.” That was
from Jerry. Just a fraction of an inch shorter than his buddy
Bobby, Jerry was wide and would eventually grow into a human
steamroller on the football field.
    “I-I don’t want any trouble, guys. I was just
heading home.”
    “Trouble,” Bobby said. “Trouble is exactly
what you’re gonna get.”
    “You see,” Cliff began. He’d been silent
until now, but apparently he, too, found it hard to pass up the
bullying. “We get real tired of you around here. Not just us,
either. Everybody. The whole school. Even the teachers. Even Mr.
Vandiver and Mr. Curlee,” he explained, naming the principal and
vice-principal.”
    “That’s right,” Ricky chimed in. “Nobody
likes a fat, sniveling shit like you sitting next to them, or even
eating in the same lunch room. I saw you scarfing down that chili
dog the other day. Almost made me hurl, dude. And I don’t like
hurling.”
    Suddenly the group split up. Bobby and Ricky
went one way and Jerry and Cliff went the other: surrounding him,
one big bully with a smaller bully. At least the kids knew
strategy.
    “Guys, just leave me along…okay?” His voice
quivered on the last word. He felt water brimming at the bottom of
his eyes. Something bad was going to happen. He just knew it.
    And it did. Bobby swung out at him. From the
corner of his eye, he saw it coming. With the four circling around
him, it was next to impossible to watch every movement. He was
lucky to see Bobby’s fist, though. Although it wasn’t a quick one,
Michael was not a glutton for punishment. He leaped far to the left
and Bobby’s hand missed him by just a few inches.
    “You little shit,” Bobby said through gritted
teeth.
    It was time to go. No one needed to tell
Michael that. Spinning on his heels, Michael darted through the
opening between Jerry and Cliff, albeit just. He was, as his father
called it, digging ‘taters. His feet stomped down into the ground
as he moved, loose dirt erupting up behind him.
    “Get his ass,” Jerry yelled, and the boys
were in hot pursuit.
    The beating from last night slowed Michael
down—more than a little. Even now, just beginning the run for his
life, his leg throbbed where the electrical plug had left a very
nasty mark. The stitch in his side from yesterday afternoon was
back as well, and he knew right then, he wouldn’t be running
far.
    But maybe he wouldn’t have to.
    The playground was wide and deep, but the
ground was definitely not even. From the school building itself the
ground gently sloped downward to where he now ran. A hundred yards
more and it dropped off fifteen or so feet. One place in particular
along that drop was popular with the kids; a flattened area that
had once housed a long-forgotten piece of playground equipment that
had been removed. That’s where the boys played King of the Hill;
standing there defending their territory as others rushed towards
him trying to pull him free of that small section of flat earth. As
Mike’s feet touched down on this spot, he leaped. He had no idea
why, he just did. He didn’t actually jump that high, but the steep
drop-off of the land left him sailing high.
    The playground butted up against a thick
wooded area. A chain link fence separated wilderness from school
property and he believed if he could make it into the woods, he
could lose these boys. He had to lose them. They were in really
nasty moods and there was no way he could possibly fight off four
of them.