Burned Away by Kristen Simmons Page B

telling them she was unarmed was probably not the best idea.
    â€œWell,” she said. “This was fun. Now that I’ve found where I need to go, I’ll just be heading home.”
    She shifted to the side, eyes darting to the notebook, still on the ground to her left. The man with the cut lip followed her gaze, bending to retrieve the book before she could. As soon as he touched it, her cheeks turned hot, and her hands balled into fists.
    â€œThat’s mine,” she said.
    He grinned at her, the cut in his lip cracking open. He pressed the back of his gloved hand to it.
    â€œWhat’s this? A diary?”
    He tossed it to his friend with the brass knuckles. Automatically, her hand rose to intercept, but she missed.
    â€œWhere’d a metalhead learn to write so nice?” he asked, turning it on its side, as if she’d written sideways. “These love letters to your boyfriend?”
    â€œThey’re none of your business,” she said.
    How many times had she told her aunt the same thing when she’d caught her snooping through that notebook? This kind of stuff’s going to get you in trouble , Aunt Charlotte would say. Caris hated that she was right.
    Brass Knuckles turned the book the right way and glared at the page before him. “What are you writing about Small Parts for?”
    â€œSmall Parts?”
    â€œThe factory,” said Cut Lip. “Don’t play stupid, sweetheart.”
    â€œDon’t call me sweetheart,” she snapped, then took a deep breath. Her mother’s words whispered in her ears: the truth is stronger than the fist.
    â€œIf you have to know, I’m writing a story for the Journal .”
    â€œWhat journal?” he shot back. No wonder people in Bakerstown always laughed at metalheads. If they all were like these two it was a wonder the whole district hadn’t caved in on itself by now.
    The two men looked at each other, then back to her.
    â€œThe news ,” she said, exasperated. “They’ve sent me to report on what’s happening at the factory.” It was close enough to the truth anyway.
    â€œThere’s nothing happening,” said Cut Lip, staring evenly at her. “As you can see.”
    â€œSo there’s no reason to snoop around,” said Brass Knuckles. With each page he flipped, her shoulders rose. It felt like he was doing something too personal, like pawing through a drawer of her underclothes.
    â€œGive it back,” she said.
    â€œMr. Schulz doesn’t like rats,” Cut Lip told her. “Metaltown business stays in Metaltown. You understand what I mean by that?”
    Every red alert in her head began blaring all at once. Mr. Schultz ran the Brotherhood; she didn’t need to be from Metaltown to know that. She looked back to the mouth of the alley. She’d stumbled right into the very men she needed to avoid.
    â€œI’m…” She searched her mind for an answer. The Brotherhood was at odds with McNulty’s clan, and though she wasn’t part of that crew, she knew that saying she was from Bakerstown was condemning enough.
    Cut Lip lifted the pole, rolling it between his hands. Maybe the truth was stronger, but that didn’t mean the fist wasn’t going to hurt.
    â€œThere you are!”
    From the fire escape to her right came a male voice, clearly pleased to see one of them. Lifting her chin, she saw a boy standing on the metal grate, two stories up. He was dressed in shabby clothes—trousers, held up by a rope belt, and a coat with one sleeve ripped and hanging from the elbow. With the light behind him, it was hard to make out his face, but since his voice was unfamiliar she doubted he’d come for her.
    Using the distraction, she tried to bolt back toward the main street, but was clotheslined by Cut Lip’s arm.
    â€œNot so fast,” he muttered, sending a chill through her.
    â€œI’ve been looking everywhere for you,”