doing here anyway?
“Scott’s
cool,” Edgar said. “Hawk likes him.”
“You another
Jesus freak, Gillette?”
Scott didn’t
deign to answer. Instead he rolled his eyes at Mike, who suddenly didn’t feel
quite so isolated. But if Kurtis Tyre and Mad Dog could show up out of the
blue, some of those Alt-School girls couldn’t be far behind.
“I get so
sick of that Jesus stuff,” Kurtis went on. “Making out like he’s such a fuckin’
saint. So what if the cops think we’re Nazis? Maybe they’d give us some
respect.”
Edgar picked
up the phone.
“Who you
calling?”
“Craig
Frost. See if him and Howard want to come up, bring the other guys.”
Kurtis
turned his attention to Mike. “Never thought I’d see you here, James. You
trying to join the club or something?”
Mike
shrugged. “I don’t know about any club. I’m just with Scott.”
“And with
me,” Edgar said, covering the phone. “Mike’s moving in down the street. He
wants to be a master thief.”
Mad-Dog
barked his patented hyena laugh.
“A master
thief?” said Kurtis in disbelief. “Oh, man, what is this? Are you serious?”
“I saw a
murder once,” Mike blurted.
For a minute,
Mad-Dog stopped laughing. Edgar was muttering on the phone but even he looked
up.
Kurtis
gaped. “What does that mean? Do you want to see another?”
“I was just
. . .” Forget it, he thought. He wasn’t going to tell the story.
“You’re full
of shit, Kurtis,” Edgar said.
“What kind
of club is it, anyway?” Mike said.
“It’s Hawk’s
One-Way Gang.”
“One-Way?”
Mike said.
Edgar
pointed a finger at the ceiling. “You know, straight up. To Heaven? We’re all
in it.”
Mike looked
at Scott. “You too?”
Scott
shrugged.
“Not if I
have anything to say about it,” Kurtis said.
“Hawk likes
him. That’s what matters.”
“Yeah,
Kuuur-tis,” said Mad-Dog mockingly, laughing till Kurtis grabbed an ear and
twisted it.
It was
almost an hour before Craig Frost and Howard Lean showed up. In that time, Mike
and Scott had to endure so many of Kurtis Tyre’s jibes that it was a relief to
see new faces at the glass—even these faces, which were not the most comforting
in Bohemia Bay. Craig and Howard were several years older than the others. Craig
was out of school completely, though he hadn’t graduated. Everyone knew his
story, the high school was so small. He was a grease monkey at the Central Beach station now. Howard was still in school, though he had been kept back at
least twice. His orthodontist father and realtor mother wouldn’t let him drop
out like his idol, Craig. They had big plans for him, apparently.
“So, Frost,
you got a car tonight?” asked Kurtis.
Craig shook
his head, looking embarrassed. “No, man, we hitched.”
Kurtis
chortled. “Never heard of a mechanic without wheels.”
“My engine’s
laid out all over my fuckin’ garage. Never shoulda let Dusty touch it.”
“So tell him
to steal you a new one. Or do it yourself. You got to brush up on crime, man,
unless you plan on working the rest of your life.”
“Howard, put
a fist in his mouth, would you?”
Howard
smiled, showing gray chipped teeth crammed in rows like a shark’s. He stooped
toward Kurtis, fist soaring in slow motion. Kurtis lightly batted it away.
“Guess who
we saw today,” Edgar said. “Sal Diaz!”
Howard’s
face grew even sallower. “That queer? Did you suck his dick this time?”
“No, I bit
it off and brought it for you.” Everyone but Howard laughed. “He was trawling
for chicken in his black van.”
“That guy
makes me sick,” Craig said. “Why hasn’t somebody firebombed his house?”
“Let’s us do
it,” Howard said.
“Guy thinks
he’s a Mexican Bruce Lee,” said Kurtis.
“Well, he’s
only a block from here,” Edgar said. “We could do it.”
“You’re not
going to firebomb somebody’s house,” Scott said suddenly.
“Who is this
pussy?” Howard asked.
“Meet
“Scott’s
cool,” Edgar said. “Hawk likes him.”
“You another
Jesus freak, Gillette?”
Scott didn’t
deign to answer. Instead he rolled his eyes at Mike, who suddenly didn’t feel
quite so isolated. But if Kurtis Tyre and Mad Dog could show up out of the
blue, some of those Alt-School girls couldn’t be far behind.
“I get so
sick of that Jesus stuff,” Kurtis went on. “Making out like he’s such a fuckin’
saint. So what if the cops think we’re Nazis? Maybe they’d give us some
respect.”
Edgar picked
up the phone.
“Who you
calling?”
“Craig
Frost. See if him and Howard want to come up, bring the other guys.”
Kurtis
turned his attention to Mike. “Never thought I’d see you here, James. You
trying to join the club or something?”
Mike
shrugged. “I don’t know about any club. I’m just with Scott.”
“And with
me,” Edgar said, covering the phone. “Mike’s moving in down the street. He
wants to be a master thief.”
Mad-Dog
barked his patented hyena laugh.
“A master
thief?” said Kurtis in disbelief. “Oh, man, what is this? Are you serious?”
“I saw a
murder once,” Mike blurted.
For a minute,
Mad-Dog stopped laughing. Edgar was muttering on the phone but even he looked
up.
Kurtis
gaped. “What does that mean? Do you want to see another?”
“I was just
. . .” Forget it, he thought. He wasn’t going to tell the story.
“You’re full
of shit, Kurtis,” Edgar said.
“What kind
of club is it, anyway?” Mike said.
“It’s Hawk’s
One-Way Gang.”
“One-Way?”
Mike said.
Edgar
pointed a finger at the ceiling. “You know, straight up. To Heaven? We’re all
in it.”
Mike looked
at Scott. “You too?”
Scott
shrugged.
“Not if I
have anything to say about it,” Kurtis said.
“Hawk likes
him. That’s what matters.”
“Yeah,
Kuuur-tis,” said Mad-Dog mockingly, laughing till Kurtis grabbed an ear and
twisted it.
It was
almost an hour before Craig Frost and Howard Lean showed up. In that time, Mike
and Scott had to endure so many of Kurtis Tyre’s jibes that it was a relief to
see new faces at the glass—even these faces, which were not the most comforting
in Bohemia Bay. Craig and Howard were several years older than the others. Craig
was out of school completely, though he hadn’t graduated. Everyone knew his
story, the high school was so small. He was a grease monkey at the Central Beach station now. Howard was still in school, though he had been kept back at
least twice. His orthodontist father and realtor mother wouldn’t let him drop
out like his idol, Craig. They had big plans for him, apparently.
“So, Frost,
you got a car tonight?” asked Kurtis.
Craig shook
his head, looking embarrassed. “No, man, we hitched.”
Kurtis
chortled. “Never heard of a mechanic without wheels.”
“My engine’s
laid out all over my fuckin’ garage. Never shoulda let Dusty touch it.”
“So tell him
to steal you a new one. Or do it yourself. You got to brush up on crime, man,
unless you plan on working the rest of your life.”
“Howard, put
a fist in his mouth, would you?”
Howard
smiled, showing gray chipped teeth crammed in rows like a shark’s. He stooped
toward Kurtis, fist soaring in slow motion. Kurtis lightly batted it away.
“Guess who
we saw today,” Edgar said. “Sal Diaz!”
Howard’s
face grew even sallower. “That queer? Did you suck his dick this time?”
“No, I bit
it off and brought it for you.” Everyone but Howard laughed. “He was trawling
for chicken in his black van.”
“That guy
makes me sick,” Craig said. “Why hasn’t somebody firebombed his house?”
“Let’s us do
it,” Howard said.
“Guy thinks
he’s a Mexican Bruce Lee,” said Kurtis.
“Well, he’s
only a block from here,” Edgar said. “We could do it.”
“You’re not
going to firebomb somebody’s house,” Scott said suddenly.
“Who is this
pussy?” Howard asked.
“Meet
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