Read Over My Head (Wildlings) Online

Authors: Charles de Lint

Over My Head (Wildlings) (25 page)

BOOK: Over My Head (Wildlings)
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And of course he's not alone, not with that entourage of classic cars. Three or four bandas spill out of each one. By the time I've reached where he's standing, they're about thirty-five strong, each one a little colder-eyed than the next. But at least none are carrying weapons that I can see, and most of them stay near their cars. Only a handful have joined Fat Boy, one of them being Chico Para, the head guy from the taquería. He's the only one not looking at me. Instead he seems focused on something very interesting on the pavement at his feet.

I'm a little surprised that they came out in such numbers since I know they're only here to deal with me. The way Fat Boy's staring me down, he probably figures he can do it all on his own without even breaking a sweat. But I guess the gang has to make a show of strength because on this side of Rio Grande Drive, they're intruding on Ocean Avers' territory. With so many Kings here, the Avers would have to come out in full force, and that's not likely since the bandas are here for me and—my relationship with Chaingang notwithstanding—whatever happens to me isn't gang business.

When I reach Fat Boy I look him right in the eye—or at least I try to. The effect's a little lost since he's so much bigger than me that I have to look up. A lot. I half expect the hawk who's been watching from the telephone pole across the street to come swooping down to stop me, but he remains where he is.

Fat Boy looks amused at the way I marched right up to him and that's not good. He needs to take me seriously or this is never going to end.

"You didn't bring enough men," I tell him.

That takes the mocking look out of his eyes.

"Listen, you little shit," he starts, but I cut him off.

"Seriously," I say. "There was a point where I would have let you save face, but you didn't keep your men in line. So I need to draw the line right here, where everybody can see."

Oh, he doesn't like that at all.

"Let's get something straight,
pendejo
," he says. "The only reason I'm talking to you instead of tearing you a new asshole is because Don Goyo asked me to make peace with you."

I can't help it. I glance at the telephone pole again, but the hawk's not there anymore.

"Bullshit," I tell Fat Boy. "You don't make peace by having your goons jump my friends after school or by showing up here in force."

"Don't push it," he says.

Chico's still not looking at me, but a skinny little guy with a scarred face and mean eyes gives me a glare. His tats cover every inch of exposed skin: haloed saints and a crucifix vying for space with strippers, snakes and barbed wire. I've always liked ink, but this seems like overkill.

"Let me take him down, boss," he says. "Teach the punk some respect."

Fat Boy holds up his hand and the guy shuts up. Then Fat Boy fixes his gaze on me. I can see he's making an effort to keep his own temper. It's not something I suppose he has to do often, and it's obvious he doesn't like it.

"Don Goyo says—" he starts, but I cut him off.

"I don't care what the uncles say or do. This is between
me
and
you
. And your word's no good to me anymore."

Now he can barely hold back his anger.

"I never gave you my word," he says through gritted teeth. "And if you keep this up, I never will."

"Bring it on," I tell him.

"Look at the kitten," a stranger's voice says from behind me. "Just itching to pop his claws."

"So fierce," a second voice says.

"Such a fool," adds a third, and this one, I recognize. It's Tío Goyo. "He fights a battle already won while the war goes on around him."

This weird sensation comes over me as I hear those voices. All of a sudden it's like I have a map in my head and on it I can place every living creature in the park and along the streets. Des and the visiting girl, Sandy. Her cousin Justine and the other skateboarders. The three hawk uncles and all the Riverside Kings. Even every damn ground squirrel and bird in the skatepark, from the gulls and crows feeding around the garbage can to a pelican flying overhead. But no hawks.

Of course not, I think as I turn to face
los tíos
. That's because they're standing right here.

And they're probably responsible for putting this creepy GPS kind of feeling in my head.

The two guys standing on either side of Tío Goyo look like they're cut from the same cloth that he is: old, wiry desert rats, dark-skinned and sharp-eyed. I'm hyper-aware of Fat Boy and his gang behind me, but this sensory overload in my head is really freaking me out.

"What did you do to me?" I ask.

Tío Goyo's eyebrows go up.

"In my head," I say. "What did you put in my head? It's like I've turned into a human GPS."

One of the other old guys snickers.

"We didn't do anything," Tío Goyo says. "The more you assert your authority, the more changes will come to how you perceive the world and how it perceives you."

"What are you talking about?"

"Perhaps," Tío Goyo says, "you should finish your business with Señor Zaragoza first."

It takes me a moment to realize he's talking about Fat Boy. When I turn around, whatever machismo I had going for me has drained away. I don't feel like a powerful mountain lion, ready and able to tear into some human punks. The reality of the moment settles into me instead: I'm just some half-assed school kid who's trying to intimidate a big scary Mexican gang leader.

"Have you assured Josh," Tío Goyo asks Fat Boy, "that you will honour a truce that guarantees the safety of his friends and family?"

Fat Boy shakes his head. "The little
pendejo
wouldn't shut up long enough for me to tell him."

"But now it's all settled?"

"Of course, Don Goyo."

Tío Goyo turns to me. "Does this satisfy you, Josh?"

I have to clear my throat before I can speak.

"If you're going to leave us alone," I say, "why were your guys waiting for my friends after school?"

Fat Boy frowns. I don't think he's going to answer, then Tío Goyo says, "The boy has a point, Señor Zaragoza."

I don't know what kind of a hold
los tíos
have over the Kings, but clearly, it's strong. I know Fat Boy would rather just beat the crap out of me, but instead he forces an apologetic smile that never quite reaches his eyes.

"We didn't get word to them in time," he says in a mild voice. "It won't happen again."

"So we're in agreement, Josh?" Tío Goyo says. "The Kings will leave you and yours alone and you'll extend the same courtesy to them?"

The skinny guy beside Fat Boy snorts.

"You have something you wish to add, Señor Delgado?" Tío Goyo asks him.

Delgado immediately ducks his head. "No, Don Goyo."

Fat Boy gives Delgado a casual smack with the back of his hand and the skinny guy staggers a couple of steps sideways. Then Fat Boy makes a fist and extends it to me. I give Tío Goyo a questioning look. When he nods, I bump fists with Fat Boy.

"We're done here," Fat Boy says.

I nod. I'm not really sure what's going on—why the Kings are so deferential to
los tíos
—but the bandas return to their cars and I'm left standing with three old men who don't give off a Wildling vibe, but seem just as powerful as the Wildling elders all the same. I watch the Kings—with my eyes and with the new sensory input in my head—as they get into their cars and drive away.

"How do I turn it off?" I ask Tío Goyo when the gang's gone. "This thing in my head."

He shrugs. "I assume you had a similar dilemma when you first changed? All your senses seemed too strong?"

"Yeah."

When he doesn't explain any more, I realize what he doesn't feel he has to spell out: learn for yourself how to dial it down. Great.

I look past the uncles. We're still getting a lot of curious looks from the kids in the park, but with the show—such as it was—over, they're starting to go back to what they were doing before the Kings arrived. Des is walking in our direction, but he stops when that girl Sandy asks him something. I turn back to
los tíos
.

"So which of you was the hawk following me?" I ask.

Tío Goyo dismisses my question with a wave of his hand.

"I want you to meet my friends," he says, "Benardo and Marcos. They wished to see your progress firsthand."

"You know I have no idea what you're talking about, right?"

"And yet," Tío Marcos says, "you are embracing your responsibilities."

Tío Benardo nods. "Though you might want to temper your enthusiasm with a little forethought. Brute force isn't always the answer."

"This isn't helping," I tell them.

"What they mean," Tío Goyo says, "is that forcing your will on others won't necessarily solve your problems. Someone else will always come around to test your right to rule."

The other two uncles nod.

"You mean the way I was trying to make the Kings leave us alone? I
tried
talking to them first and you saw where that got me."

"Consider the
tone
of that conversation you were having," Tío Goyo says. "You attract more bees with honey than with vinegar."

"But you're doing well," Tío Benardo says.

"Oh, yes," Tío Marcos agrees. "So long as you remember that you are in charge, not the lion under your skin. The lion only chooses between two courses of action: attack or retreat. Your choices aren't so limited."

"So you're saying
I
should back off some—communicate better," I say.

All three of them nod.

"Though you'll still run into the odd mad dog," Tío Benardo adds, "and when you do—"

"Those you have to put down hard," Tío Goyo finishes.

The tracking device in my head has been aware of Des approaching. I turn when he calls my name and
los tíos
choose that moment to leave.

"Hey, wait!" I call after them.

They're not Wildlings, but they're capable of the same deceptive speed that we have. In seconds, they're out of the park.

"Dude," Des says when he reaches me, "did you just make Fat Boy and his whole crew stand down?"

I shake my head. "Honestly? I don't really know what happened. But they're going to leave us alone."

Des grins. "Well, it looked golden from where I was standing. You weren't giving an inch. Who were those old Mexican dudes?"

"
Los tíos
. They're the real reason the Kings backed off. I told you about the one I met at the restaurant."

Des nods. "I wonder whose uncles they are?"

"I don't know. I think that's just what they're called.
Los tíos
. The uncles."

Des takes my arm.

"Come on," he says. "Sandy wants to meet you."

I don't have to look in her direction. The tracker in my head shows me she and her cousin are already approaching us.

"I don't have time," I tell him. "I need to make sure Ampora and her sisters are okay and let them know that they're not going to have any more trouble from the Kings."

"Dude, this girl's hot."

I know she is, but I don't need any more complications in my life—especially not from someone who's only attracted to me because I'm tough and stood up to the Kings.

"Later," I tell him. "Distract them for me—would you?"

"Seriously?"

"Later," I repeat.

I head off before they can reach us.

Chaingang

By the time we get there, it's all over. There aren't any Kings at the skatepark, and there's no Josh. All I see is a bunch of kids hanging out on the benches and practicing their skills.

Cory gets off the back of my bike, but I keep my seat. I don't expect to stay long. I see Dwight and wave him over, but then Des leaves a couple of cute girls he's been talking to and jogs over before Dwight can reach me. I wave Dwight back since you can never tell what's going to come out of Des's mouth. If it has anything to do with Wildling business, I don't want Dwight to hear.

"Cory, dude," Des says as he gets close enough. "You've got to tell me. Erik never showed at school and ever since we left you last night I've been dying to know what you did to him."

Cory and I exchange glances. He still looks like the surfer dude he changed into so how come Des knows who he is?

"You can recognize me?" Cory asks.

Des laughs. "Why wouldn't I? I'm not a stoner."

I start checking the area for any sign of Vincenzo.

"This is interesting," Cory says.

"No, it's not," I tell him. "If Vincenzo spots us, my being with you is going to blow up in my face. Maybe he already has."

Des gives me a confused look. "Dude,
what
are you talking about?"

"No, it's just him," Cory says. "I've seen this before. It's rare, but some five-fingered beings just see through the illusion."

"What illusion?"

"And if Vincenzo is one of the rare ones?" I ask.

"He's not. Cousins can't see the difference. If he was close enough, he could smell me, but he's not."

"Um, standing right here, guys," Des says, waving his hand in the air then tapping his chest. "What are you two talking about?"

Cory shrugs. "Nothing much. As for Erik, I just explained the logic of good manners and what happens to those who don't have them."

That's enough to distract Des.

"So you didn't, like, eat him or something?"

"No, I didn't eat him."

Des looks thoroughly bummed and I understand. I learned back in grade school that the one thing you don't ever do is back down. You might get the crap kicked out of you, but you don't command any respect by rolling over. I get what Josh was trying to do, but with guys like Erik Gess, you have to put them down right from the start or they never go away.

"What happened here?" I ask.

Des fills us in and I'm left with more questions than answers.

"He just talked to Fat Boy," I say, "and then the bangers all left? This whole business with the Kings—it's done?"

"That's what Josh told me."

There's got to be more to this. Fat Boy never backs down.

BOOK: Over My Head (Wildlings)
13.68Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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