I didn’t go out looking for the Razors Wednesday night. I wanted to
stay in so I could figure out what to say about Susie. I knew she was learning
to think about math in a good way, but I wasn’t sure how to put my thoughts
into words. I had no idea what Miss Carswell would think, but I trusted her
to be open to rational argument. It didn’t occur to me to count on her
supporting me because she liked me or because she wanted payment for her window.
As far as I could tell, she wasn’t the kind of person, who’d compromise
her objectivity.
I’d probably have stayed in all night if my mother hadn’t sent
me to the store for milk. I knew better than to try to get out of going by
pleading that my ankle still hurt. My dad was home, looking mad at the world.
So I limped to the store, wondering what I was going to say to Yusuf.
I didn’t have to worry. Yusuf was occupied with the Razors. When I walked
in not one of the Razors greeted me with the usual taunts of, “Hey Buzzard” and “Here’s
our werewolf.” I was surprised. Then I saw a very tall figure emerge
from behind a shelf. It was Jayhawk looking like a red-faced drill sergeant.
“
Listen here, you little cootie,” he barked at Yusuf. “If I want
beer, I’m gonna walk out of here with beer. It’s up to you whether
I pay for it or just take it.” He waved a ten-dollar bill in front of
Yusuf’s face. “Your choice.”
“
I’m sorry, sir,” Yusuf replied stubbornly. “I cannot sell
you beer unless you present a valid ID.”
“
I’ll validate you, you lousy terrorist!” Jayhawk growled. He reached
across the counter, grabbed Yusuf by the neck, and squeezed. “You stink,
do you hear me, Osama?”
Yusuf’s lips turned blue before Jayhawk let go of him. As Yusuf gasped
for breath, Jayhawk turned to the other four guys. “Let’s get
out of here.” He picked up a six-pack of beer, threw his ten-dollar
bill on the counter, and said, “Keep the change, jerk. Buy some milk
for your sore throat.” The other Razors laughed and walked out with
Jayhawk. I stood gawking at Yusuf who was still struggling to catch his breath.
“
Are you okay?” I finally asked.
He nodded. “What do you want, Buzz?” he rasped. “Are you
not finished mocking me?”
I shook my head. “I just came in …to get some milk,” I stammered,
feeling stupid. “My mom ran out,” I added lamely.
“
You know where the milk is,” he said.
“
Yeah,” I said. “Look, don’t you want to call the cops or
something. He assaulted you.”
Yusuf shook his head. “You are one strange guy, you know that? He’s
with them, those Razors. And so are you. If I call the cops, they’ll
arrest you too.”
“
But I didn’t have anything to do with it,” I protested. “I
had no idea that was going to happen. I just came in to get some milk.”
“
So get your milk and get out of here, you stupid kid,” Yusuf snapped.
I went back to the cooler and got a half-gallon of milk, handed Yusuf the
money, and left without saying good-bye. I felt bad, but why was he putting
me down? Where does he get off calling me stupid? I had nothing to do with
Jayhawk, and like Sean said, my opinion didn’t count. So what could
I do?
I didn’t go looking for the Razors, but they came looking for
me. Fogger, Jeremy, and Mike did anyway. Sean wasn’t with them.
Neither was Jayhawk.
“
Hey, Buzzard!” Fogger called out from across the street. When I
looked up, he waved. I stopped in my tracks, dreading what was bound
to be an encounter full of recrimination. But when the guys got across
the street, Fogger came up and put an arm across my shoulder.
“
We saw you in the store,” he said.
I nodded.
“
That was a gross scene. Who’s Jayhawk gonna impress by grabbing
the Arab like that?”
I wasn’t sure I believed what I was hearing.
“
Sean thinks he’ll have more to say about what we do with Jayhawk
in the picture,” he continued, “but he’s dreaming.
If we hang with Jayhawk, we’ll be another bunch of thugs with no
class.”
“
Yeah,” Jeremy said. Mike nodded his head emphatically.
I shrugged. “I’m not impressed,” I grumbled. “But
what we can do about him?”
Fogger tightened his grip on my shoulder. “You’re smart,
Buzzard. Figure it out!” His lip twisted with sarcasm.
“
Yeah,” Jeremy chimed in, “Buzz is smart, but he has to be
a lot smarter to put one over on the Razors.” He leaned over and
punched me in the kidneys. It hurt, and if Fogger hadn’t been holding
me so tightly, I might have fallen over.
“
Yeah,” Mike echoed, stepping up and kicking hard at my sore ankle, “lying
to the Razors is not a smart move.”
Fogger relaxed his hold, and I fell to the ground.
“
I saw you getting into that damned cow’s car,” he said in
a conversational tone. The hair stood up on the back of my neck.
Mike sniggered. “Who’d have thought that Buzz was making
it with the post office lady?”
I took a deep breath, trying to fight down the nausea that threatened
to overcome me. At the moment I couldn’t come up with a good explanation
for the rides. Fogger leaned over and pulled me to my feet. I managed
to stand, even though I could feel my ankle swelling. “We ought
to kick you out, you know,” he continued in his conversational
tone. “But we’re very merciful guys,” he said, smiling. “We
have plans, Buzz, and you’re going to play a major part in them.”
He nodded and Jeremy and Mike each grabbed one of my arms. “No
more lying, right Buzz?” Fogger said, still smiling. While he pounded
at my body with his fists, I closed my eyes, hoping he wouldn’t
mess up my face. And he didn’t. Finally Mike and Jeremy let go
of my arms and I hit the ground again, vomiting this time.
“
So,” Fogger said softly, “do you want to tell us what you’re
really doing in the afternoons?”
“
Tutoring,” I gasped. “The postmistress’ kid is flunking
math, and I’m tutoring her.”
Jeremy snorted. “Yeah, sure!”
“
I am,” I insisted. “I need the money.”
Mike kicked me. “You’re a geek, you know that?”
Jeremy spat on my head. “Yeah, a real geek.”
Fogger whistled, and the two of them backed off. “Let’s see
how bad he looks,” Fogger said calmly, and the other two hauled
me to my feet.
“
Not bad, except for the puke on his jacket,” Fogger announced. “No
visible injuries so if there’s any trouble with the cops, we’ll
know he deliberately ratted us out.”
He grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled my head back. “But you’re
not going to do that, are you, Buzz?”
“
No,” I replied hoarsely. “I’m not.”
“
Good boy,” he said, as if speaking to a dog. “Now we’re
going to meet tomorrow evening at nine in the smelly deli to discuss
our plans, and you’re going to be there, right, Buzz?”
I didn’t reply right away, so he reached out and backhanded me
across the face. “Don’t make me mess up your face, Buzz,” he
said softly.
“
I’ll be there,” I said.
“
Good, and make sure you don’t wear that stinkin’ jacket,” he
added. Then he and the Razors stalked off, leaving me to limp home.
When I got home, my dad was sitting in front of the TV, complaining
about the immorality of the shows that he avidly watched. My mom had
already gone to bed, so I went upstairs still wearing my jacket. After
checking to make sure she wasn’t in the bathroom, I went in and
sponged the vomit off. Then I took off my sweaty clothes and put them
in the hamper.
I thought hard. Miss Carswell had insisted I ice my ankle after my fall.
I didn’t have any ice up in the bathroom, and I didn’t want
to risk going downstairs and running into my father. So I filled up the
sink with cold water and made compresses out of a couple of washcloths
for my ribs and my ankle. Sitting on the edge of the bathtub, I kept
breathing as deeply as I could, even though my ribs hurt a lot.
After a half-hour I gave up on trying to pull myself together and went
to bed. As I fell asleep, I wondered briefly how much Miss Carswell would
be able to guess about what had happened. Then I tried hard not to worry
about what the Razors were planning.
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