Over My Head (Wildlings) by Charles de Lint

Kings are after you."
    "It doesn't matter."
    I look at Solana and he just shrugs.
    "Okay," I say. "Don't tell us. We're going to take you home and I'll watch your place tonight to make sure the Kings leave you alone."
    "And tomorrow night?" she asks. "And the night after?"
    "Let's just take this one step at a time," I tell her. I turn to Solana to add, "Do you mind giving us a lift?"
    "No problem."
    I can't shake the feeling that he seems a little self-satisfied with how all this went down tonight, but now's not the time to get into it.
    Des touches my shoulder. "Dude, I can't stay out all night," he says, regret in his eyes.
    "I'll give him a ride home after," Solana says.
    "It's not that I don't want to," Des tells me.
    "It's cool," I say.
    We all pile into Solana's car, Des taking shotgun, Ampora and me in the back. She's quiet and sullen for the whole drive to her house. She doesn't say a word until Solana drops us off and we're standing on the curb watching his tail lights disappear down the street.
    She juts her chin toward me. "So all those stories about you," she says, "are you trying to tell me they're true?"
    "You know how you don't want to talk to me about whatever beef the Kings have with you?"
    She nods.
    "Well, I don't feel like talking to you, either. Just go inside. I'll keep watch tonight, and tomorrow morning, we'll take your sisters to their school."
    She frowns at me, but doesn't move. I'm surprised at how much she looks like Marina. I'd never really noticed it before. I suppose I can see it now because she's standing so still, right in front of me. When they're moving, they inhabit their bodies so differently. Marina is loose, comfortable in her skin. Ampora carries a tightness, like she's pulling away from the world instead of living in it. But if you were to put them together and take away Marina's skateboarder gear and Ampora's gangsta chic, the resemblance would be uncanny.
    But while she might look like Marina, that doesn't mean I'm inclined to share any secrets with her.
    "Look, I get it," I tell her because she still seems to be waiting for me to say something. "We're not friends. We don't have to be friends for me to do this."
    "Then why are you doing it?"
    If this were one of Des's movies I'm sure the script would have me come out with something witty and cool. But it's not. It's just real life and I'm just me. So I stick with the truth.
    "Because somebody has to stand up to those shit-heads. Go on in. You'll be safe."
    She nods, but she still doesn't go inside. Instead she points to the playground down the block.
    "My kid sisters play there," she says. "Lots of the little kids in the neighbourhood do. It was a safe place, you know?"
    I nod to show I'm listening.
    "Last week the bangers started coming around. They'll pull up in their fancy cars and all the little boys go crazy seeing those sweet rides. The bangers start struttin' their lies, talking about how jumping into the RKs will put these kids on top, make them special. All the other losers will be working their asses off for nothing, but not them. Side with the Kings and they'll have everything they want. Money, girls, parties, custom rides. Familia ."
    "It's an old story," I say. "You seem to buy it."
    That earns me another glare. "These kids are seven, eight, nine years old. The Kings are passing out joints . My sisters come home and ask why I don't have an RK for a boyfriend."
    "I didn't say it was right."
    "Damn straight it isn't right," Ampora says. "And I went over and told them to haul ass or I was going to call the cops."
    My eyebrows go up at that. Nobody calls the cops—especially not in the barrio.
    "What else was I supposed to do?" she asks. "¡ Híjola ! The bandas aren't going to listen to me. Not unless I've got a loaded gun pointed at their head. I had to threaten them with the cops."
    "So tonight … you weren't hanging with them by choice?"
    "They said I needed a lesson about what it means to cross them."
    "And you're mad