Desperado

Desperado
By T.W. Scarlette

1

Travis Williams slouched against the cold cast iron fencing of the Gated Soho and felt the fresh black eye his foster father had given him. The pressure of his fingers on his swollen eye made him exhale. His breath froze in the winter air and he pulled his leather jacket tighter around his ribs. This one has driven me away one too many times, he thought as he pulled himself together. The fight between him and his foster father had begun with him being put into Juvenal Detention for stealing the car and ended with Travis storming out the back door.
Travis surveyed the surrounding landscape and realized he had run all the way up to Soho. Leaving the Fishing District behind felt like the right move so he wondered around the large Gated community. The snow had piled up around the cold iron railing so Travis was forced to walk through drifts of the winter precipitation. He trudged past several forgotten mansions before he came to a place where it appeared a car had torn through the iron bars. Tire tracks marred the fresh snow and several bent iron bars lay scattered around the alley. Stepping over a bar, Travis peered into the Gated Soho. Looking back over his shoulder Travis pushed his way through the pled up snow and fell into the Soho.
Neon lights from the clubs greeted him as he stuck his head out of the desolate cul-de-sac. Travis looked over his shoulder to make sure none of his siblings had trailed him. Seeing no one he went out into the cold Friday night.
People gave him suspicious looks as they passed him in the streets. I must look like a true hood, he thought touching his bruised face again. He had cuts on his hands from digging through the snow and his jeans were ripped and too big, having belonged to his older brother.
As Travis pounded the streets he thought about his father, about his mother and about his many foster sisters and brothers. He debated living on the streets and whether to return the next morning or next week sometime. His thirteen year old mind decided to stay in Soho and see where it lead him. Turning right up a steep street, Travis left the clubs behind him and walked through a residential neighborhood. Several of the houses were dark and looked deserted so he kept walking, not wanting to attract the attention of the local gangs he moved on to a house with lit windows. Loud voices leaked through the thin walls and exploded onto the winter street.
“What the hell do you mean, an accident? If you do that again you’ll regret it!” a strong male voice shouted backed up by a course female voice. Travis paused and looked at the shadows on the curtains, the male struck out and hit a boy cowering between the woman and the window. Travis watched in anger as the boy tensed and the blow struck home. The shadows on the curtains flared up as the boy struck out at the man. Knowing what was going to happen next, Travis turned his head and continued to walk up the street.
At the top of the hill was a small park so Travis stopped his walking. Looking around at the snow-covered slide, swings and marry-go-‘round he jumped the fence. Two other boys were standing amongst the metal and snow smoking so he trudged over and bummed a smoke.
The older boy, with chin length dirty blonde hair and bark eyes, gave him a strange look and asked, “jus’ how old are you any how?”
Travis glared at him and said, “thirteen.”
“Gotcha beat by a few years, kid, six if ya care. Name’s Charlie,” he said offering his hand.
“Travis,” he said returning the handshake.
“You still want that smoke, Travis?” Charlie asked holding out a pack of Camels.
In answer Travis took the pack and tapped out a cigarette. Tossing the pack back to Charlie he asked, “Got a light?”
Charlie smirked and pulled out a booklet of matches. “You know I got a brother ‘round your age, his name’s Marley.” Travis just nodded and lit his cigarette. “My silent companion here is Roslyn, he lives down on West Wharf maybe you know him,” Charlie said nodding at the slightly younger boy in the shadows of the jungle gym.
“Shit Charlie, that kid’s too young to smoke,” was all Roslyn said as he turned his back and stalked from the park.
“Nah,” Charlie called to his back, then turning back to Travis he asked, “where you from, eh?”
“Several places,” Travis answered stomping on his cigarette and shoving his hands into his pockets.
“Well, if you need a place to sleep the Soho won’t leave you out in the cold. You see we got this little gang set up, its only four guys as of yet but we can welcome one more.”
Travis looked at Charlie as is all his prayers had been answered, “That could work, who’s all in this neighborhood?”
“Not very many kids live up here and not very many people do either. Most of them live in the top of the hill or in this lovely Gated area. But it’s my brother Marley, this kid we call Lemon from down the street, Olivier and myself,” Charlie said then a noise over his shoulder caused him to turn around.
A boy had limped into the park, he had shoulder length light colored hair and wore a leather jacked and torn jeans. As far as bruises go this boy was far worse than Travis.
“Hey, Charlie,” the boy called stumbling down the slope and onto the safety matting.
“Jesus, Lemon, your old man do this to you again?” Charlie exclaimed rushing over to the younger boy.
“Yeah, who else? We ain’t rumblin’ with the Wharf so it’s just him pounding on me,” Lemon said dabbing his bleeding lip with his sleeve. Aside from a limp Lemon had a gash on his forehead, a purplish bruise on his cheek and he held his left arm stiffly. Nodding his injuries aside he asked, “Who’s the new kid?”
Charlie turned back to Travis and made a hasty introduction.
“Hey,” Travis said pulling his leather jacket more tightly around him.
“You hungry, Lemon?” Charlie asked finishing his cigarette.
“Not if you’re cooking I ain’t,” Lemon said wiping his lip again.
“Nah, Gram made dinner and there’s some left,” Charlie said leading the way out of the park and out on to Farnor Avenue. The two boys followed him eagerly with the promise of food. Travis hadn’t had a hot meal in several days so he stuck close to Charlie as he wove their way through the snowy side streets to his house.
The lights were on and a red haired boy was sitting on the steps when they walked up the walk and Charlie asked, “What’s up, Marley?”
“Gram found these,” Marley said tossing a pack of Kool’s to his brother, “She’s interrogating Dan right now.”
“Oops, I guess we should rescue her?” he said stepping around his brother and leading Lemon and Travis into the house.
Travis saw an old lady standing over a blonde haired girl in the kitchen when Charlie walked in and the girl made a hasty retreat.
“’‘Sup Dan?” Lemon asked from his seat on the couch.
“Gram’s upset bout some smokes,” the girl said sitting down next to a black haired boy Travis had overlooked.
The boy Travis had heard called Marley elbowed the black haired boy and said, “Charlie found a new member,” then he turned to Travis and asked, “What’s your name?”
Travis introduced himself and so did the black haired boy, Olivier.
“What made you come up to the Edge?” Olivier asked.
“I got sick of being stuck in foster homes,” Travis said, crossing his arms.
“I’m a foster kid, myself,” Olivier said, “It can be rough, but it’s better than an orphanage.”
The microwave roared to life and Charlie came back into the living room, “Olivier, Marley, Dan, Lemon meet Travis.”
“‘Lil bit ahead of you Charlie,” Dan said smirking at her brother, “Did Gram ground you?”
“Nah, convinced her they were Olivier’s,” Charlie said sitting down on the couch next to Lemon.
Marley turned to Travis and said, “Feel free to sit down, and help yourself to dinner when the timer goes off.” Then he turned to his brother and said, “you were smoking down at the park again weren’t you?”
“Maybe,” Charlie said, then he turned to Lemon, “Help yourself to fresh clothes and a shower.”
Lemon accepted the offer and disappeared up the stairs. Then Charlie returned his attention to Travis, “You got a life story?”
“I might,” Travis said smugly from his seat on the couch.
“Spill,” Charlie said, “In payment for the food.”
“Easy up on the kid, Charlie,” Olivier said, “Let him settle in a bit before you badger him.”
Travis looked at Olivier and shoved him, “Who you callin’ a kid?”
“I ain’t been one to tell age from the number of years you’ve lived,” Olivier said shoving him back.
“Shit, if your not gonna tell me bout yourself and its Friday night, I got better things to do that hang round at home,” Charlie said grabbing his leather jacket and waving good bye to the younger boys.
“See ya Charlie,” Marley called as his older brother slammed the door behind him, “The Wharf’s probably having a party tonight,” he said to Olivier, “I hate it when we can’t go.”
“No one else cares what we do with ourselves except your brother,” Olivier said in equal indignation.
“So, tell me about the Wharf?” Travis asked as the microwave timer went off.
“We’ll tell you something about this city after you eat,” Marley said leading Travis into the kitchen. He pulled mismatched silver wear from the drawers and gave him a chipped china plate of macaroni and cheese. “You can eat in the living room.” Marley said leaving Travis in the kitchen.
Travis walked back into the living room and sat next to Olivier and waited for the pasta to be cool enough to eat. “So, Olivier,” he asked, “What’s it like here?”
Olivier laughed and said, “It’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced before, I can guarantee you that. There are over a hundred people living here and everyone knows everyone else. We have gangs, the Wharfies and the Soho are among many others. Wharfies you can trust most of the time but you can never trust a South Ender or a North Sider.”
“Whoa, slow down,” Travis said eating some of his macaroni and cheese, “How the hell do you tell all these gangs apart?”
“That’s one of the easier things, it’s who is controlling what street that is difficult,” Olivier said getting up and taking off his leather jacket, which was several times too big. Travis saw a scarlet tattoo of a snake on his forearm. He turned the jacket around and showed Travis a blue bandanna sewn on the left forearm. “Soho wear bandanas on the left forearm,” he slipped back into his jacket, “the Wharfies have a darker blue on the right and wear mostly black. The Brook, a suburb gang, wears a light blue leather armband with waves stamped on the surface.”
“Alright,” Travis said, chewing, “What about the South End and the North Side?”
“Those two are more difficult to tell apart,” Olivier said thinking.
“The South End and the North Side refuse female members,” Dan said from her seat in the corner under the lamp reading a book.
“They both wear expensive clothing, mostly brand names. Oh, they almost never wear jeans, aside from that they don’t have any real colors,” Olivier continued.
“Ah,” Travis said, finishing his plate, “That’s good to know.”
Marley returned and tossed Olivier a pack of Kool’s, “Gram took her meds and is out for the rest of the night.”
“Good, Mr. Thompson was gonna kill me if he caught me with even one cigarette,” Olivier said fishing around in his jacket for a lighter.
“Can I bum one?” Travis asked.
“Yeah, Charlie bought them, what do I care?” Marley said offering him the pack.
Lemon walked back down the steps, his long brown hair wet on his shoulders. He wore a pair of Charlie’s jeans and one of Marley’s t-shirts. He walked over to where he hung his jacket and pulled a brush and a hair band.
“Braid my hair, Dan?” Lemon asked walking over to the corner where she sat reading.
Dan put her book down and Lemon sat in front of her. He handed her the hairbrush and hair band.
“So, Travis,” he said as Dan brushed his hair, “you got a place to stay?”
“You offering?” Travis said looking his way and pulling on his smoke.
“Shit no, my old man would beat me into the floor,” Lemon said taking the cigarette out of Marley’s hand, “you’re too young to be smoking.”
“Two years younger than you,” Marley said hitting Olivier’s cigarette.
Olivier watched Dan braiding Lemon’s long hair and then said, “I better get back to the Thompsons’ before I miss curfew.”
“See ya, man,” Marley said as he got up and headed towards the door. Travis waved as Olivier left.
Dan wound the hair band around the end of Lemon’s braid and he scooted forward and said, “I feel like going out, comin’ Marley?”
“Might as well,” Marley said getting up off the couch, “Come with us Travis.”
“Alright,” Travis said getting up and taking his plate into the kitchen. When he came back Lemon and Marley were waiting for him on the porch, “Where are we going?” Travis asked.
“Jus’ down to the park, I guess,” Lemon said leading the way. “D’you bring those smokes with you?” Lemon asked Marley.
Marley nodded and handed the pack of Kool’s to him. Lemon lit one then feeling his face he said, “My eye’s gonna swell shut.”
“It ain’t that bad,” Marley said, “Just looks tough.”
“Yeah, it looks tough now ‘til it turns green and yellow,” Lemon said pulling on the smoke again.
Marley jumped the fence and bounced on the safety matting when he landed. Lemon and Travis followed as Marley climbed up onto the top bar of the swing set. Lemon and Travis sat in the swings and Lemon asked, “I heard you were in foster care, is it any good?”
“Well, I guess it can be, but it ain’t never been no good to me,” Travis said, swinging slowly.
“Shit, I get beat every day, something’s gotta be better than that,” Lemon said pulling on the last of his cigarette.
“At least your parents are still alive, mine were killed when our apartment building caught fire,” Travis said flatly taking another cigarette and lighting it form the butt of Lemon’s.
“Huh, sometimes I wish my old man’d die, you know just drop like a fly one day. Then maybe my mother could be happy, but I guess that’s just dreams.”
“Dreams, I don’t think I ever had any. Stuck in foster care at the age of three there wasn’t much to dream of. Man, I lived in a shit hole until Child Protective Services shut that cesspool down. Maybe I dreamed of getting adopted, I don’t know,” Travis said, his voice remaining flat and firm as he spoke. “I was moved almost yearly until I turned ten. Man, I almost thought I had a home that year, what a fool I was.”
“C’mon, tell us bout it, Travis, you gotta ease up on your self a little you were only a little kid,” Lemon said.
“Yeah, well it was pretty good that year. I was placed in a small home, only three kids. This little girl, Elizabeth, an older boy I never knew and me. The adults living there were almost like parents except we called them by their first names.
“I got on pretty good with Elizabeth. We played together and had a bond almost like real siblings. Until one morning and I went to find her and she was gone, I looked all over the whole house, even in the older boy’s room. They had signed her over to adoptive parents.
“That was the first sign your parents were really not going to come back, that letter. The foster families had you write a letter telling the adoptive families about yourself, only the kids in the worst conditions were made to write these letters. I knew my parents were dead but that foster woman kept assuring me the police would find one of my aunts to adopt me. Well, when that tablet was handed to me I knew I was never getting out.
“You don’t want to know what I did after that,” Travis stated, staring off into the night sky.
Travis felt Lemon’s hand on his shoulder and he sighed.
“We’re listening,” Lemon whispered.
“Shit I ran away. Took all my stuff and hopped the subway and rode it around to the end. Then a police officer stopped me so I kicked him and ran down the street. Well the bastard caught me and brought me back to the foster house. When he knocked on the door with me under his hand, that foster woman opened the curtains and turned the porch light out.
“I remember the officer taking me back to the station and I remember sitting there eating a donut while he tried to figure out what to do with me. Finally about two hours later he said, ‘We’re gonna take you to another foster home.’
“Not again, I thought and so I told him, ‘I don’t want to go.”
“He bent down like the cops in the movies and said, ‘I’m sorry, kid.’ Then he dragged me out to his squad car and drove me across the city. This next house I was to be placed in I ended up staying at for two and a half years. I found another sibling at this house, his name was Julian.”
Marley rolled of the top bar of the swing set interrupting Travis as he told his story and said, “Sorry, I’m freezing, I’m going home.” Then he turned back to Travis and said, “Key’s under the mat if you need a place to sleep. There’s always a blanket on the couch, see you round, kid.” Travis watched in silence as Marley tramped back up the hill to his house and tried to recollect his thoughts.
“You were telling me about Julian,” Lemon reminded him, lighting another cigarette for the warmth of the embers.
“Julian was two year younger than me, but he was the perfect little brother. The kind that followed you around and you pretend to hate around other people, you know?”
“I have an older sister, but she’s about twenty now. She got herself outta our house when she was eighteen, but go on with your story,” Lemon said waving away his comment.
“Yeah, well he was nine. We had some awesome adventures in the backyard of this house. It was really big and had a little bit of forest running through the back with a creek. I remember one summer we dammed it up and watched as all the fish wriggled in the mud. This is terrible, but we put the fish on the road near the house and watched them get run over by the cars,” Travis said as Lemon laughed.
“You were a terrible kid, Travis. Those poor fish!”
“Shit they were some kind ugly things, I think we did them a favor. But the good times were short lived. This guardian was worse than the first one. She took the money the state gave’r to feed and clothe us and spent it building up her drug collection. When I was twelve I saw her dealing cocaine from the back porch. I was so mad I told Julian to go upstairs and pack his stuff then I did the same. Only this time I stole a bunch of the drug money. We hid in the playground tunnel until it was morning and then we caught a bus down to the Gray Hound station. I had already bought our tickets when the security guards recognized our faces from the news report.
“I guess she called the police because with out us she couldn’t feed her habit. I still don’t know why the cops didn’t take one look at the bitch and think good for us to have left.
“But yeah, the guard brought us to the police station with out even a refund for our tickets. The police called the bitch and she had Julian and me separated. Of course she sent me away because I was older, I guess. But after the third runaway attempt they didn’t put me in another foster home. This time I got stuck in an orphanage and in Canada yet.”
“I thought it was illegal for them to take you out of your birth country?” Lemon asked, warming his hands on the cigarette.
“I guess not because I was in Toronto for a few months then I got sick of the people walking around looking at children younger than me so I left. But this attempt was retarded. I didn’t even get out of the building, a foster home had accepted me and they were waiting down stairs.
“Imagine how surprised I was when I walked down and was greeted with, ‘you must be Travis!’ and a hug.” Lemon laughed as he continued. “It was this foster father that gave me this shiner,” Travis said feeling his eye. “He beat me when he got drunk. But I couldn’t take it any more so I left for good. I took a bus and a train to get up here. I thought I was in Montreal before you guys started to speak in English.”
“Well, Montreal’s only a few hours down the road,” Lemon said taking a pull on his cigarette.
Travis yawned, a rather childish habit he never quite lost in his pursuit of toughness and said, “I think I’ll head back to Marley’s and get some sleep.”
“After walking out on my old man, I got no other choice than to join you,” Lemon said getting up off the swing and starting the walk up the hill to Marley and Charlie’s place. Once they got there Lemon picked up the key and the slipped into the living room.
“I hope you don’t mind but I’m takin’ half the couch,” Lemon said kicking off his shoes and curling up in a ball and pulling the blanket off the back of the couch. “There’s another behind the chair.”
“Right,” Travis said kicking off his shoes off as well and retrieving the blanket. He lay down on the other half of the couch and curled up under his blanket. Lemon was asleep within a few minutes but Travis lay in the darkness for a while before his brain would let him believe he was away from the abusive foster home and could finally sleep in peace.

2

The next couple of weeks with the Soho were a blur to Travis. He remembered talking with Olivier and Marley on the occasion Lemon returned home for clothing and necessities. Travis felt a kinship to the younger boys as much as he felt for his foster brothers and sisters back in the states. Out of the Soho he saw Charlie the least, he was always working or at some mysterious gathering with members of the Wharf and Brook.
Travis learned of Olivier’s foster parents, the Thompsons, and of their child, Denise. Olivier mentioned a foster brother, Steve, a nerdy kid a year younger than Olivier. Travis was interested in the strict personality of Mr. Thompson and the over protective and motherly personality of Mrs. Thompson. He also learned of a kind of foster uncle living in the house, Mr. Anderson. Although middle aged, Mr. Anderson was a loose person when he was with out the shadow of his brother-in-law.
Marley told Travis of the problems the Clark family experienced with Child and Youth Services and of the constant custody battles. The law believed Charlie was too young and their grandmother was too old and senile to care for Marley and Dan. Travis was appalled at the thought of very slip up being recorded on file and adding up against you.
“Every time I get a poor grade or get caught it’s a mark against Charlie,” Marley explained, “I mean it’s not like I’m trying to make him look bad, but he can’t be our father.”
“At least he’s trying,” Travis added, feeling the need to stick up for Charlie in his absence.
“I know he is,” Marley said, leaning up against the wall of their living room, “He’s in over his head with me and Dan and Gram to deal with.”
Olivier and Travis exchanged a look and Olivier said, “Marley, why don’t you just be good, for a bit?”
“You don’t think I try to?” Marley asked looking at his best friend and at Travis, “I don’t think you could listen to your older brother all the time.”
“Nah, but I’d act perfect in front of the suits,” Travis said laughing.
Marley and Olivier laughed as Travis crossed his arms over his chest.
Travis got to know Dan as well, Charlie often left her with him and Lemon when Marley and Olivier were at school. Dan’s school, a nontraditional academy, let out earlier than the trashy public middle school her brother and Olivier attended. Dan told him of the books she read and about the politics of her school. Travis listened, jealous of the experiences he had been denied.
George “Lemon” Dixxon remained Travis’ favorite companion. Under Lemon’s wing Travis learned the ropes of the Soho. Lemon showed him the streets, the safe ones and the ones best to avoid. Under Lemon’s guidance Travis developed his tough exterior into to an emotional toughness. Blood no longer fazed him; and he could smell a fight form a mile away. Travis and Lemon often wondered into many confrontations together. Travis learned his attitude from Lemon and his knife work from Marley.
Marley, young by Edge City standards, was an expert with a knife. Travis learned how to throw a blade but most importantly how to open the blade with an air of purpose.
“Don’t reveal the knife unless you intend on using it,” Marley said slipping a switchblade back into the folds of his leather jacket. “The way you pull it shows your intentions,” he said, a different knife materializing in his hand. “Keep eye contact, if the opponent doesn’t see you then he can’t draw before you.”
Travis looked at the younger boy now holding a five-inch switchblade in front of his face and asked, “Where’d you learn all this?”
Marley gave him an award-wining smile and said, “Hobby. I started to collect knives before our father died, then when we created the Soho it moved on to a necessity,” Marley explained, shrugging.
Travis turned to Olivier and asked, “Do you have any hidden talents?”
Olivier shrugged and smiled, “Dunno, maybe I do, maybe I don’t.”
Travis smiled and shoved Olivier, saying, “I got to go find Lemon,” then he walked out of Marley’s house and headed up towards the park.

3

The next day Travis walked with Dan down Shelda Drive in the Lower Soho. Charlie had made the down payment on a small flat on the fifth floor of the building on the corner of Shelda Drive and Altis Street. The apartment was in a state of moderate decay but the walls and ceiling were sound. Charlie had left his sister with Travis in his hurry to make it to Montreal before he was late for his shift at the Eat’n’Park. Travis was walking the girl back to her house in the hopes of orientating him self with the Lower section of the Soho. They walked passed several bars and restaurants along with an odd array of housing. Mansions, townhouses, row houses with burnt out sections and even a house looking like it was made out of old tin roofing materials.
Dan pointed at the shabby hobo like house and said, “This crazy cop called Mike used to live there.”
“I didn’t think there were cops in this town,” Travis said putting his hands in the pockets of the hand me down jeans he wore.
Dan laughed and explained, “He’s not a real cop anymore. There’s a story that says he was fired from the force after helping a convict escape. Then the Wharfies say that he just stole the old patrol car he drives and left. I dunno which one’s true but he scratched the city name off the side of the car and it doesn’t have a plate,” she finished, shrugging.
Travis was amused by this story and he laughed, but Dan gave him a nervous look and pointed up ahead. Several older boys were walking down the middle of the street, openly flaunting themselves as if wanting to be seen.
“They’re definitely North Siders,” Dan whispered, pulling Travis into an alley.
“Yeah, well what are they doin’ in the Soho?” Travis asked, his hand nervously going to the spare switchblade Marley had loaned him.
“By the looks of them,” Dan said peering around the old piece of fencing covering the alley’s other end as the North Siders walked around the block and up towards the park, “Waiting to pick a fight.”
“Well, what should we do?” Travis asked, looking at her.
“Ah, stay here ‘til we can be sure they started the fight, then find it,” Dan said, still watching the North Siders through the old fencing.
“I’m not sure I get what your saying, you’re just gonna let them start a fight?” Travis asked, but Dan waved away his question.
“Here that?” She asked.
Travis listened and he could hear angry voices and rocks clattering off something metal. Dan turned to face him and said, “Bet that’s Charlie’s car.”
“I thought he was going to work?” Travis asked Dan as she started towards the noise.
“Nah, he only told you that so he could get rid of me,” Dan said smirking, “He works the night shift.”
“Ah,” Travis said following her as she made her way up to the park through the alleys and back streets.
When the park on the top of the first bump in the Soho Hill was visible Dan stopped and watched as the kids dressed in upper class clothing tossed rocks at the old Chevy Corsica and a light blue Ford pickup truck. Lemon and Charlie glared at them from the bars of the jungle gym. Olivier and Marley were sitting on top of the swing set exchanging looks and whispers as they felt out the attitude of this confrontation. Nine North Siders tossed the rocks, making Charlie tense and Lemon angry. A rock slammed through one of the windows of the pick up and he reached inside his jacket and pulled out a bag of yellow candies and began chewing on them.
“Lemon drops,” Dan said under her breath as she looked from Lemon to her eldest brother. “We should go down there and even the odds a little,” she said catching Charlie’s eye and leading Travis further up the slop. Travis watched as she gracefully jumped the fence then he climbed roughly over the barrier and joined Dan next to Charlie.
“I wish you’d go home,” Charlie said, keeping his eyes on the North Siders.
“Hell no, it isn’t a fair fight even with me here,” Dan said crossing her arms over her chest like Marley.
Charlie rolled his eyes at her then asked softly, “Do you have that knife I gave you?” She nodded. “Don’t use it unless you absolutely have no other option.”
Dan took this information with a little bit of resistance before a glare from Charlie settled the matter. “Fine,” she spat, then walked over to Marley.
Marley and Olivier jumped down off the swing bar as she walked over with Travis behind her.
“Look’s like you got yourself a pet, Dan,” Marley said gesturing to Travis behind her. Dan smiled and then anger flared up behind her eyes as Charlie walked over.
“I’ve had enough of their shit,” he said to his brother then he called out to the North Siders. “Hey faggots! Get the hell away form my car!”
Travis and Lemon laughed as the apparent leader stoped in mid throw and turned.
“Though you’d never notice, you Soho bums,” he said smoothly.
“Bums?” Lemon said skirting the safety matting and standing next to Travis, “That hurt deep, I think I’m gonna cry.”
“Why don’t you try picking a fight down in the suburbs, where it’ll be a fair one?” Charlie asked bitterly.
“Charlie, your wasting your air on them,” Lemon said, smirking, “They ain’t looking for a fair fight, they just wanna beat the piss outta something. Well, you know what I think? I think they can suck it,” he said flipping them off.
Travis looked from the anger on Charlie’s face to the hate behind Lemon’s eyes and then to the drunken faces of the North Side. They looked to their leader, not quite sure how to react to Lemon’s comment. Expecting them to storm over and beat them to a pulp, he whispered, “What the hell’s going on?”
Marley laughed softly and said, “They’re confused,” he pointed to the leader and said, “the rest won't breath without his permission.”
“A couple of them want to run right over here and pound us but the leader hasn’t revealed his intensions,” Olivier added.
“It must say something about their intelligence if they can’t think for themselves,” Travis whispered.
“Sadly that’s the way this gang works,” Charlie said, “His followers are more afraid of him than they are of our threats.”
“You see, Travis,” Lemon said putting his arm around the other boy, “we find this part particularly amusing. This is when they devise some kind of plan to do us all in and we folly it just by being individuals.”
“Right,” Travis said, trying to stop thinking them all crazy and that they were all going to be beaten into a gelatinous mass of teenage runaways pretending to be greasers.
Lemon’s smile faded as the North Siders flanked out and surrounded them. “Shit,” he swore reaching into his pocket for his switchblade. Charlie did the same as Marley flicked open his knife. Olivier withdrew his hand into his sleeve and it returned with a blade as well. Travis looked to Dan and she was also armed, so he dug in the pockets of his jeans for the borrowed knife. As he looked at it, trying to figure out which lever opened the blade he couldn’t help but feel like a character in an adventure movie.
As the steal blade flashed open in the sunlight the adrenalin in his blood spiked. The ragged greasers around him were transformed into heroes as the North Siders paced around them.
“Finally got that blade open,” an older boy said from behind Travis, pushing his shoulder. Lemon’s hand steadied him as the boy walked around him and stood in front of Travis. “I haven’t seen you before.”
“Maybe that’s a good thing,” Travis said glaring at the older boy, “your face would have killed me.”
The North Sider sneered and he spat, “Ha ha, clever kid,” then he pushed Travis into one of his companions circling behind.
The other boy caught Travis’ shoulders and said, “Well, Joe, what is this a new little Soho?”
Joe smirked and said, “Yeah, I found him myself. What should we do with him, Bill?”
Travis looked back at Bill, who was holding his shoulders and then at Lemon who winked at him. Faster than Travis’ mind could register Bill cried out and letting him go he clutched his side. For good measure Lemon kicked Bill in the groin.
“Elbow in the gut right under the rib cage,” he said turning his attention to Joe. “Not so brave now?”
Joe glared and reached out at Lemon who stopped his hand with a prick from his blade. Charlie, Marley, and Olivier were slowly turning and trying to form the Soho into a circle to prevent the Siders from going behind them blindly. With Lemon distracting Joe and the other seven watching Bill on the ground nervously Charlie was able to press his back up against Travis and Marley backed Lemon while Olivier stood behind Dan. The North Siders recovered and continued to circle maliciously.
Suddenly the Sider in front of Olivier shot the Leader, who was standing in front of Lemon, a look. The leader nodded and all eight North Siders rushed in on the small Soho. Bill got up off the safety matting and helped restrain Charlie as his mates pinned Olivier, Marley, Dan, Lemon and Travis down as well.
Charlie spit in his captor’s face as his knife was knocked from his hand and the boy behind him pulled to his feet and held back his hair.
“Hello, Charlie,” the leader said, smiling, “I bet you don’t remember me. We really miss you at school, shame you had to skip out on your senior year.”
“Yeah, well, I can’t pick the time shit happens, Walter, I guess money gives you those kinds of options,” Charlie said, his wounded pride showing behind his eyes.
“Seems a shame to disfigure such a pretty face,” Walter said, running his finger along Charlie’s jaw line, “But I owe someone for this,” he said rolling up his sleeve and revealing a slashing scar.
Charlie smiled, a rather evil expression in the midst of the North Siders with his hair held back and a knife held inches from his cheek. “Go on, do it. I’m not afraid,” he said, that smile still on his face.
Travis closed his eyes as Walter pressed the knife tip into Charlie’s face and made a cut from his cheekbone to his jaw. Blood spilled down Charlie’s face and he rolled his eyes in pain but didn’t say a word. Walter kicked him in the stomach then walked on to Marley.
Marley also said nothing but smiled or rather bared his teeth at Walter as he was dragged into a standing position. Walter taunted him and finally gave him an identical cut. Olivier shook his hair out of his face once on his feet and looked directly into Walter’s eyes as he put his hand on his head.
“Another good looking face to slash. You got a girlfriend, kid?” He asked Olivier. “Well,” he said touching Olivier’s face gently, almost lovingly, “Tell her I’m sorry.” Steel reflected behind Olivier’s eyes as Walter carved the cut into his cheek.
Then he walked back down to where Dan was pinned, “Charlie, I can’t believe you brought your little sister down here,” he said kneeling down and picking Dan’s head up off the green matting. Dan glared at him as he smiled and said, “It won’t hurt, I promise.” Tears welled up in Dan’s eyes as he pressed the knife into her cheek, “I guess I lied,” Walter said turning away from the girl and giving his attention to Lemon.
The two North Siders holding Lemon pulled him up to his feet as Walter approached and the one pinning his arms to his back pulled his head back with his ponytail.
Lemon’s eyes reflected only loathing as Walter bent over him, “I never understood why you wear you hair so long,” he whispered, “You could be beautiful with out it’s weight, George.” Lemon tensed as his hand cupped his face and turned his head. Like Charlie, Lemon smiled as the knife was pressed into his cheek and drawn down his face. Lemon spat blood at Walter as the cut went deeper than expected and bled into his mouth.
“The new Soho for last,” Walter said wiping Lemon’s bloody spittle off his jacket and walking over to Travis.
The fear in Travis melted away as he was roughly pulled to his feet. Hard and undefined anger reflected behind his pupils in the blackness. He pictured all the people responsible for his miserable existence thus far as Walter caressed his face.
“Huh, got yourself into a fight or two before this, eh?” he asked noticing the many scars retained from his last foster father’s rage. “This one will be a nice addition to your collection, you Soho,” Walter said pressing the tip of the bloodied knife into his cheek and running the cold, sharp metal through his flesh to his jaw.
Blood ran into his hair and down the front of his t-shirt, “Lot of blood in you, kid,” Walter said wiping his blade on the bottom of Travis’ shirt. Travis felt the warmth of his hand on his stomach and naval as Walter returned the filthy shirt to it’s proper place. Then he kicked Travis in the shins. The North Siders kicked and punched the Soho into a semiconscious state before Walter and his followers disappeared down the Soho Hill into Down Town.

4

The Soho lay on the safety matting for a few seconds after the North Siders left. Then Charlie sat up and dabbed at the cut on his face with the hem of his shirt. Marley and Olivier sat up as well and Charlie turned to his brother, “You alright? You look a bit green around the edges?”
Marley nodded, and said, “I’ll be fine.”
Then Charlie turned to Olivier, “You alright, kiddo?”
“Just a little sick,” Olivier said pulling his legs up to his chest, “I’ll get over it.”
Lemon sat up when he heard voices and looked over at Charlie, Olivier and Marley. “That guy was a frickin’ pervert. I can’t believe you knew him, Charlie.”
“I didn’t really know him, we just went to the same school,” Charlie said getting up and walking over to see if Dan was alright.
Travis crawled over to the grass and vomited at the sight of his t-shirt, but he got up and walked back over to the swing set. He sat on the swing starring off into space as the cut on his face bled slowly. “Anyone got a smoke?” he asks quietly.
Lemon walked over to the swing set and sat down in the one next to Travis, then he reached inside his jacket and pulled out half a pack of Camels. Lemon put one in his mouth and lit a match. Once he took a pull he handed Travis a smoke and he lit it from Lemon’s.
They sat smoking in silence as Charlie picked up Dan and sat her on the tailgate of Lemon’s junkyard truck. Charlie wiped the tears from her face with the clean part of hem of his shirt then pulled her into a hug. Dan cried on her eldest brother’s shoulder until no more tears would come, then she pushed away from him and slipped out of the park heading up towards their house.
Charlie watched her walking up the hill a little ways before slowly walking over to his black and now dented Chevy. He opened the door and started the engine, letting it run for a few minutes he called, “Marley, Olivier, come on I’ll ride you home.”
Olivier and Marley looked at each other, daring the other to refuse then they slowly limped over to Charlie’s car. Marley slid into the front seat and Olivier the back. Once the doors were pulled shut Charlie floored the Chevy up the hill.

5

Lemon and Travis sat on the swings smoke in silence as Charlie’s taillights disappeared over the crest of the hill. Then tears slowly began to trickle down Lemon’s face. Travis looked at him nervously and then he quickly stared into the green, now blood covered safety matting.
“I hate them,” he muttered, wiping his eyes looking at Travis.
“Um, who?” Travis asked, startled.
“Everyone, the North Side, my parents,” Lemon said running his fingers through his hair.
“That’s a lot of people to hate,” Travis said, feeling his cut cheek.
“Yeah well, my life ain’t been perfect.”
“And you think mine has?” Travis asked giving Lemon a harsh look, “It ain’t you know, this foster shit sucks.”
“When I left the house today my old man was sucking down vodka like it was air,” Lemon said gruffly, “I got no where to go for at least two days when he gets like that. And it’s not like my mother’s any better.”
“Huh, I don’t remember much of my parents,” Travis said lightly.
“Yeah, well I’ve got the scars to remember mine,” Lemon said, depression passing behind his eyes.
“My one foster father, the only one I can remember, used to beat us,” Travis volunteered.
“I’m sure,” Lemon said dismissively, rolling up his sleeves to reveal a burn scar, “Gave me that when my mother left to tour with a dance troop,” he rolled down the sleeve of his jacket then slipped it off and pulled his shirt over his head.
In the dark Travis saw a torso covered in a mess of little scars and yellowish bruises. He looked away and swallowed. Pity for Lemon reflected in his eyes as he licked his lips. “I’m sorry.”
“The bruises are just from this week, so don’t try to pretend you got it hard. Cuz you got it good.”
“I didn’t know,” Travis said reaching out to him.
“That’s right, you don’t know,” Lemon said harshly. He paused and lit another cigarette, “You don’t have a mother who just wants more than anythin’ to dance but knows if she leaves her husband will kill her son. Or a father who works fourteen hour shifts at the docks then comes home and drinks and beats on his family the other six.”
“I didn’t know,” Travis repeated.
“Yeah, well this is the real world, you should think before you talk,” Lemon said bluntly, taking another pull from his cigarette.
“Well, maybe you should listen to what I have to say before you dismiss me as incompetent,” Travis said indignantly.
“When did I say you were incompetent?” Lemon asked, looking over at the younger boy.
“Never mind, just listen for a minute, will you?” Travis asked.
Lemon gave him a questioning look and waved him to continue.
Travis licked his lips, then he went on, “I know how you feel. Did you know the state gives the foster homes money for the children they take in?” Lemon nodded and Travis waved away the question, “When I came up here the home I was at had six foster kids. That’s a lot of money, but sadly we didn’t see any of it. We didn’t get food or clothes, it got so bad that I faked my age and got a job at a fast food joint.”
“What are you saying?” Lemon asked, looking at Travis with a puzzled expression on his face.
Frustration was building up inside Travis and he said, “I don’t know what I’m trying to say. I guess I was trying to find some common ground with you but it seems to me you don’t want anyone else to know how you feel.”
The look Lemon shot him was venomous, “No body understands what it’s like,” Lemon said angrily.
“Of course not, no body else has lived your life. I tried to give you some insights into mine but you don’t care. You only want to hear the pity, the fact that someone else is just as bad or worse than you is too hard for you to accept,” Travis half-shouted, his voice echoing around the empty park.
Lemon glared at Travis for a few seconds as if daring him to say more. Then he shifted his eyes to the green tinted blackness of the Edge City night sky. He thought about what Travis had so directly stated. The wall Lemon had built around himself suffered repeated assaults through out their conversation. As he thought he felt Travis’ eyes on his back. He slowly turned to face the other boy then he quickly returned his gaze to the inky blackness.
“I don’t know if I should thank you or punch you, Travis,” Lemon said, now fully turning around, “You’ve got some balls, man,” Lemon added, a smile smudging his face for a second then remembering his cut his winced and relaxed his face.
“Someone had to wake you up,” Travis said, pushing him playfully, “You’ve taught me a lot since I got here, I thought I give you a lesson in return.”
“Shit, you ain’t taught me nothing,” Lemon said getting out of the swing, “Come on, lets get some for these cuts. I don’t mind the scar, but I don’t want to get an infection.”
Travis laughed and got out of his swing as well. “Alright, but no hospitals.”
“Cool, you’ll have to settle for some peroxide and a Band-Aid,” Lemon said leading the way up to Charlie’s house, “Let’s see what Chuck keeps in his medicine cabinet.”
Travis smiled and winced as the cut pulled at his cheek then he followed his new found best friend up the Soho Hill, his life as a desperado just beginning.