Stealing Flowers by Edward St Amant

his companion said.
    I gripped the bat extra tightly. “Fuck off!”
I shouted at him. I jumped to my feet and swung the bat at his
head. In these life or death altercations, as Lloyd had taught me,
you have to strike first, hard and fast or you’re finished. I’d
never have a better chance at beating two bullies. After all, I’d a
bat. They would both have knives, but probably switchblades, and if
I acted fast, they’d no chance to get them out. The bat connected
solidly to the younger boy’s forehead. He fell forward, blood
spewing out of his mouth. I’d have swung the bat at the second
combatant’s head, but Sally was too close to him, so I used it like
a spear and drove it into his stomach with all my might. I hit him
clean, then he crumpled to the floor with the wind knocked out of
him, covering his head as I threatened a second blow.
    Several young passengers screamed. The bus
screeched to a halt and I flew forward onto the back of the
fourteen-year-old bully, but I managed to jump to my feet at once,
with the bat still in my hands, and grabbed Sally, rushing out to
the street through the back-doors. Kurt and Andy followed us. We
ran down a side-street for a few minutes.
    “You saved our lives,” Kurt said.
    Sally kissed and hugged me. “You’re the
best, Scrumps.”
    We came out on a main street, and I flagged
down a cab. I could see everyone was immensely impressed with this
as well.
    “Are you from West or East Pakistan?” I
asked the driver, after I got into the front-seat, letting the
others have the back. Lloyd had told me to ask this question to a
cab driver so that they wouldn’t cheat you and drive you
unnecessarily around the city. I was hoping Una was going to pay
for this when we got home and I tried to keep the cost down.
    “Where you going, kid?” the driver asked
with a laugh. Sally gave him the address.
    “Do you know where the Bronx is?” he asked.
I nodded and rolled down the window to avoid his tobacco smoke.
“That’s the part of Pakistan I’m from,” he said, “the Irish part.
What about you? What part of Pakistan are you from?”
    I saw he enjoyed himself and that Lloyd’s
advice had again paid off. I shrugged and eyed him kindly. He was a
wiry fellow who looked like a boxer. “I’m from the English part,” I
said.
    When we arrived, the cab driver pulled right
into the driveway.
    “You don’t seem like a rich kid,” he said.
“What did you do? Muscle in on them?”
    “I’m adopted,” I said. I could see the fare
was nearly eighteen dollars, but I didn’t know whether that was a
lot or a little. To my utter surprise, Sally passed him a plastic
card and he looked it over, laughing again. “This is yours” he
asked Sally. She nodded. “How old are you?”
    “Eight,” she said.
    “An eight-year-old with her own American
Express,” he said softly, clearly amazed. “We don’t take it. I want
cash.”
    Sally gave him a twenty-dollar bill.
    “Where did you get that card?” I said when
the cab had left.
    “From Mary. Are you going to come for a
swim?” she asked Kurt and Andy. They both nodded. We swam the
afternoon away. I was very happy.
    “Sally and I are going to mass at eleven
o’clock in Kearny tomorrow morning,” Mary said at supper. “We’d
like you to come.”
    “Is that where you get the plastic card
Sally has?” I asked.
    “That’s a different church,” Stan said.
    Mary and Una laughed. “Will I still be able
to go flying with Dad first?” I asked.
    “Oh, I forgot,” Mary said.
    “I can have you back by eleven,” Stan said,
“if you’d like to go. We were going to land in Washington, but we
can do that run another time.”
    “Don’t you go to church?” I asked.
    “I have no idea what’s out there in the
world of the hocus-pocus,” he said, “and the truth is, neither does
anyone else, no matter what they say.”
    “You have to have faith, my full grown
child,” Una said, contradicting Stan and looking at him
mischievously