Over My Head (Wildlings) (22 page)

That was just weird.

I watch for a moment as it circles above me, then I set off for the corner again. Again the hawk drops screeching from the sky, cutting me off. This time, it lands on a newspaper box and stares at me.

There's no Wildling buzz, but I know this is no ordinary hawk. It's not hard to figure out what it's doing here.

Guess
los tíos
don't want me to follow that guy.

"Okay," I tell the bird. "I get the message."

Across the street is a lawn of brown grass and dust. Beyond the lawn, a woman stands on her porch looking at me. I don't know what she makes of all this. The hawk in my face, me talking to it.

I don't stick around to find out. Instead I go back the way I came, heading for the skatepark once more. I look back over my shoulder and the hawk lifts into the air, satisfied that it's done its job.

Now I've got something else to add to my list of things I need to talk about with Solana.

Marina

As Josh runs off, I have long enough to think that I barely even know him anymore, but then I realize that whatever's going on with him is going to have to wait. Right now we need to clear out of here ourselves before Mr. Sanchez reaches us. The Kings that Josh didn't put out of commision have already bolted.

"Did you see him take down Tiny?" Des is saying. "I mean, one punch, dude."

I can tell he wants to get into a blow-by-blow of what we just saw. But if he's forgotten where we are, I haven't. I give him a little push.

"Run," I tell him.

Ampora's still staring after Josh, so I grab her arm and get her moving. I guess she's still so surprised at how Josh handled the Kings that she doesn't even protest. She just lets me lead her away at a quick jog. Des and Julie fall in behind. By the time Mr. Sanchez reaches the place where we were, there's only Tiny and Juan left behind, and he's too busy looking after them to come chasing after us.

We get to the mall and turn right, heading for the barrio, when Ampora finally shakes my hand loose. We've all slowed down to a walk now. I wait for Ampora to tear into me like she usually does, but when she speaks, it's not to put me down.

 "Did you see his face?" she says. "And his arms? There were
no
bruises on him—not like this morning."

I know she's talking about Josh.

"He—heals fast, I guess," I say.

But she's already speaking again and not even listening to me.

"And where'd he learn how to fight like that?" she asks.

"Jiu-jitsu," Des says. "The dude's an expert."

"No kidding," Julie says. "Where'd he study? I thought he was only into skateboarding and surf music."

I suppose that's all the reminder Ampora needs. She stops suddenly and we all follow suit.

"You don't have to come with me," she says.

"It's okay," I start to tell her.

She shakes her head and interrupts me. "What I mean is, I'm going to get the girls and I don't want any of you to come with me—okay?"

Then she stalks off, her back stiff.

"Bitch," Julie mutters.

I nod in agreement. "Yeah, no kidding. Where does she get off? All of this is her fault because she got involved with the Kings. Jumping into a gang is the last straw. Did she ever think of what might happen when she decides to blow them off the way she does everything else?"

Des clears his throat.

"What?" I ask.

"Dude, I thought you knew," he says.

"Knew what?"

"The reason the Kings want to hang your sister up by her heels. She found out that they were starting to sell dope at that park near your dad's house, so she went over there and told them to pack up and get out or she was going to call the cops."

I feel the blood drain out of my face.

"My little sisters play there," I say in a small voice.

"Exactly, dude. Josh said that's what set her off."

I'm about to puke, so I sit down on the curb, clutching my stomach. Julie and Des join me on either side.

"I was so mean to her," I say. "I never gave her a chance to explain."

Julie touches my arm. "She doesn't exactly brim with goodwill."

"It doesn't matter. This means she's not the bad guy. She never was.
I'm
the bad guy."

"You could never be the bad guy," Des says, patting the top of my head.

I push his hand off. "I
attacked
her on the football field."

"Well, that
did
happen."

"I was just so mad."

"I should have told you," Des says. "But I thought you knew."

"I didn't. I have to go apologize to her."

"Nuh-uh," Julie says. "You have to go home. You're still grounded, aren't you?"

"Yeah, but—"

"Do you want your mother to add another couple of weeks?" Julie stands up and offers me a hand. "Come on. I'll walk with you."

I let her pull me to my feet, but I still feel like I might throw up.

"Are you coming?" I ask Des.

He shakes his head as he stands. "I'm going to go catch up with Josh at the skatepark."

"Call and tell me if there's anything important I should know."

"You got it, dude," he says. "I won't screw up again."

"You didn't screw up," I tell him. "I screwed up." I hold up a hand as both he and Julie start to protest. "No, it's true. It doesn't matter whether I knew or not, I still should never have lit into her like that at lunchtime."

Des taps my shoulder with a light fist.

"Shit happens, dude," he says. "Welcome to my world."

"You can apologize to her at school tomorrow," Julie says to me.

Des smiles. "Or you can save it for when the two of you go to your session with Ms. Chandra."

"That's not funny," I tell him.

"Come on," he says with that goofy grin of his. "It's kinda funny."

I aim a punch at him, but he steps back, still grinning. I can't help it, I have to give him a weak smile back. The sick feeling doesn't go away, but the tightness in my chest lets up and it's a little easier to breathe.

"I'll text you later," he says. "After I've talked to Josh. See ya, dude," he adds, pointing a finger at Julie.

Then he sets off.

Julie shakes her head. "I don't know if he's the nicest guy I know, or the goofiest."

"A little of both," I tell her as we start walking to my house.

Julie nods. "And yet he would have taken on those Kings for you, no question."

"Between Des and Josh, I don't know who has the stronger moral core."

"Hmm."

She has a dreamy look in her eyes that makes me shake my head.

"Don't even
think
about it," I tell her. "His girlfriends never last more than a few weeks."

"Maybe he just hasn't met the right girl. I've always thought he was cute."

I roll my eyes, but I keep the conversation on the possibilities of her and Des because the longer we talk about that, the less time there'll be for me to have to evade her questions about what else is going on.

At one point, I pull out my phone, but there's still no text from Theo. I'd definitely sneak out of the house if I thought I could see him tonight.

But first, he has to call me back.

Chaingang

"Pull in here," Donalita finally says as we come up on the north side parking lot by the pier.

We've been riding in what seems like aimless circles for twenty minutes. She's been yipping and squealing every time we've turned a corner or gone over a bump. It was getting to the point where I couldn't tell whether she was making sure we weren't being followed, or just enjoying the ride. But when I asked, all she said was, "Keep going. Cory likes to move around."

Now I follow her direction and pull into the lot. It's a weekday, but it's hot, so the lot's almost two-thirds full. I park under a palm and put the Harley on its kickstand after Donalita hops off. I sit for a moment longer, doing a quick security check.

Between the parking lot and the beach are a half-dozen picnic tables strung out in a row along the boardwalk, palms towering above them. Cory's sitting at one of the tables talking to a kid who looks vaguely familiar, but I can't place him. In a town this size, everyone who's not a tourist looks at least a bit familiar.

There are kids at the other tables, more on the beach. Surfers out in the water with their boards waiting for waves that aren't coming in this weather. A volleyball game happening down on the sand.

There's no sign of Vincenzo. I check the sky for condors, but it's clear blue except for the odd seagull, so he's not spying from up there. Not seeing him doesn't ease the bad feeling in the pit of my gut. You can be damned sure that all bets are off if he sees me in Donalita's company and talking to Cory. He'll be going after Grandma and J-Dog and Marina.

That thought sends a jolt into my chest, but I'm here and committed now.

"Who's the kid?" I ask Donalita, nodding with my chin at Cory's table.

She shrugs. "Somebody with a problem that he hopes Cory can solve. It's Cory's way of making up for all the troubles his ancestors made, back in the long ago."

"What kind of trouble?"

"Oh, you know. Silly Coyote always means well, but he can't help screwing things up. Brought the five-fingered beings fire, sure, but he also brought death—that kind of thing."

I can't tell if she's putting me on or not.

"I thought those were just stories," I say.

"We're all stories," she tells me. "Some people just have bigger stories than the rest of us—and that's not always a good thing. It's never healthy to catch the attention of one of the old cousins like Vincenzo."

I'm not sure if she means me or Josh. All I know is I hope Cory can tell me something that'll give me an edge on the creep.

I swing my leg off my bike, but Donalita puts a hand on my chest before I can step away.

"Hold up, cowboy," she says. "You don't go interrupting something like this."

"Like what?"

She taps her ear. "Mousey mousey. Why don't you listen in and find out?"

The first thing Auntie Min taught me after my change was how to put a filter on the storm of scents and sounds that my Wildling senses throw at me. Without that filter, the barrage would be overwhelming. Over time I've learned to fine-tune what I take in—a conversation across the street, a woman's perfume from the other side of a room—and ignore everything else.

So I focus on what's going down between Cory and the kid. It's not so much like tuning to a radio station, as zooming in with a telephoto lens, except the lens in this case is my ears.

"—don't want to shift back only to find out that I've killed somebody, you know?" the kid's saying.

"I hear you," Cory tells him.

"I've got a little brother. What's to stop him from wandering into my bedroom looking for me, except I've shifted in my sleep and now there's a viper waiting under the sheets, ready to take a chomp out of him?"

"So you dream of changing?" Cory asks. "And that's when it happens?"

The kid nods.

"There are ways to control a dream," Cory tells him.

I tune them out and turn to Donalita.

"So Cory's what?" I ask. "A therapist for these kids?"

"Oh-so-strange as it seems, he's pretty good at figuring out their problems."

I roll my eyes.

"Well
you're
going to see him, aren't you?" she says.

"Point."

It's another five minutes before the kid leaves and I can walk over to Cory's table. Donalita's at my side until we're under the palm, then she gives Cory a wave and scurries up the rough trunk with a Wildling's speed. I doubt anybody else even noticed. Looking up into the mess of dead vegetation under the huge palm fronds, I see she's shifted to her coatimundi shape and has curled up, fast asleep.

Cory smiles when my gaze returns to him. "So you've met Donalita."

I nod as I sit across the table from him.

"This kind of thing keeping you busy?" I ask.

"Busy enough."

"How do they find you? How do they even know about you?"

"Word of mouth," he says. "And sometimes I find them. But before you ask, I can't solve their problems for them. All I can do is steer them on a course where they can figure it out for themselves, and most of them do."

"That's actually pretty cool," I tell him.

He smiles. "Not too touchy-feely for you?"

I shrug.

"So what can I do for you?" he asks. "Unless this is a social call …"

"No, I …"

It's funny. I came here to see what he can tell me about Vincenzo, but what comes out of my mouth is, "Have you ever heard of a bunch of guys who call themselves
los tíos
? I think they hang out at a place called Halcón Pueblo, though I couldn't tell you where that is."

He gives me a curious look and nods. "Sure, but it's been awhile."

"What do you know about them? Are they cool or what?"

"They're a mystic order—sort of like warrior priests, except they're not trying to point you to salvation. Instead they're trying to get people to wake up to their full potential in the here and now so that they can protect the world from evil spirits."

My heart sinks a little. So … space cadets.

"Evil spirits," I repeat, not trying to hide the scepticism from my voice.

"It's a big world," Cory says, "with more going on in it than you or I could ever understand."

"Fair enough," I tell him.

I don't want to argue—not when I'm coming to him for a favour. And the Wildling thing is bigger and stranger than anything I could have imagined, so I guess anything's possible.

"What makes you ask about them?" Cory says.

"I was just curious. I couldn't get a take on the one I met. He didn't have a Wildling vibe, but there was definitely something going on that you wouldn't call human."

"I've never really sat down with one of them, but I've felt that vibe. They keep to themselves—big on the secrets, if you know what I mean. Story is, they can see through the eyes of hawks. Some people even say they can turn into hawks, but I've never seen it and I've been around awhile. About the only thing I know for sure is they don't have cousin blood."