Survival Strategies of the Almost Brave (13 page)

“Okay,” said Billie.

Billie and me followed him.

“Can we use your phone?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Sure. Do you need to call your mom to pick you up?”

“Something like that.”

We were just about to turn another corner when someone behind us roared, “Hey, idiot!”

Three guys, maybe high school age, ran toward us.

Star Wars Kid yelled, “That's my brother and his Darth friends. They hate me!” He sprinted ahead of us. “Run!”

 

Survival Strategy #28:

OREOS CAN BE DANGEROUS, TOO

Now, lost in a den of identical apartment buildings, we crouched behind a Dumpster. I had no idea where we were.

“Billie,” I whispered, pulling her close to me. Her bare foot was cherry-Kool-Aid-colored from all the running. She needed a shoe.

“Shh,” hissed Star Wars Kid, breathing hard. Panic was smeared across his freckled face like peanut butter. Behind the Dumpster everything smelled like dirty diapers. Star Wars Kid was on lookout, but I couldn't stand staying here a second longer.

“I think they're gone,” I said, as I stood up.

“No, get down. Sometimes they just pop out of nowhere,” he whispered, pulling me back beside him.

Billie was pale again, only this time the crease between her eyebrows looked like it might slice her in two. “Why are they chasing you?” she asked.

Star Wars Kid shrugged. “Because they can.”

“But what happens if they catch you?”

He whispered, “You don't want to know.”

Billie's eyes got even bigger. I was not going to have her get all terrified just because some random Star Wars Kid was in trouble with his punk brother.

I pulled my hand away from him. “We're leaving.”

“Come on,” I said to Billie.

“No,” he squeaked. “Stop.” Sometimes, animals fake it just to get out of a bad situation. Maybe that's what Star Wars Kid was doing now. Why did he care if we stayed with him or not? Had he tricked us just to protect himself from his brother?

I grabbed Billie's hand and walked toward the sidewalk that I thought led back to the gas station. The Spoon Guy had to be gone by now, so we'd just go to the gas station and call Julie.

But Star Wars Kid followed us, creeping along and looking over his shoulder every second. “Okay,” he stammered. “Let's go to my house. Come on, it's just around the corner.”

“Look,” I said, turning around to face him. “I don't know what's going on with you and your brother, but we're out of it, okay? Just leave us alone.”

“But—”

“Seriously. I don't care.” I could not worry about some kid I didn't even know.

“But if you're with me, he might not…” The puppy dog look was back.

“Might not what?”

He shrugged. “Never mind,”

“Fine. Whatever,” I said.

He looked offended, then he mumbled superfast, “It's just he might not pummel me if you guys are witnesses.”

His eyes glistened. He actually looked really scared. Maybe he was telling us the truth.

Billie probably believed him already. She patted his hand like she understood everything. It was not my job to protect him. I couldn't get involved in this. My job was to look after my sister.

We walked past an old stairwell, the railing splintered and cracked.

“Here,” he said, bounding up the first step. “This is it. This is where I live.” He paused and checked underneath the stairs. He took a deep breath. “It's fine. I think they're gone now.” He smoothed his Star Wars T-shirt like it gave him courage.

But of course, I could spy faking it from a mile away, and I could tell it was taking almost every ounce of his self-control to act like everything was fine.

“You need to use the phone, right? Come on, it's just in here.” He walked up three more steps and pointed to the door in front of him.

I hesitated. What I should really do was walk back to the gas station and forget about this kid. “What's your name?” I asked.

“Roger.”

“I'm Billie,” said Billie. She pointed at me. “This is Liberty.”

He nodded, but looked anxious. “Come on. The phone's in the kitchen. Hurry.”

He opened the door and disappeared inside.

Billie skipped up the step after him.

“Wait,” I said, my foot on the bottom step. Sometimes instinct can be tricky. Like is it your brain or your heart telling you not to do something? And right now I couldn't tell which one it was, but—

“What's the number?” he yelled.

“Come on,” said Billie, taking me by the hand and leading me upstairs. It would only be for a second, just a phone call to Julie and then we'd wait for her at the gas station. I wondered how many hours it would take for her to drive here. Eight? Ten?

The apartment was dark, and it took my eyes a second to adjust. Somebody needed to open a window, because it smelled like old sausage.

Billie sat down at the kitchen table. In the center sat a huge ceramic bowl full of Legos, with little partially made cars and ships all over the table. She picked up a Lego guy holding an ax.

“Here,” he said, holding the phone out to me. “Oh, that's just some of my stuff I'm working on,” he said to Billie.

She looked impressed.

I grabbed the phone. “Thanks.” I pulled out my notebook and dialed Julie's cell phone, but instead of a ring, it made a clicking sound, and then a beep.

What was wrong?

Star Wars Kid stared.

“What?” I asked.

“Sorry. Nothing.” He turned to the living room. “You guys want to watch TV or something? I have every Star Wars movie. Even the making-of the movies.” He pulled out a DVD case.

I shook my head.

What if Julie never answered? Should I call Antonio? I mean, I probably should, but just the thought of his face looking like he knew all along that Dad was a loser made me mad.

Then I tried Julie's home number. The phone rang, and the answering machine picked up. I was half listening when Billie said, “Don't you have some Oreos?”

“Billie,” I hissed. “We're not eating here.”

But then I got distracted by the phone, and Billie and Star Wars Kid disappeared down the hallway.

I had to leave a message. “Hey!” I yelled. “What's the address here?”

But there was no answer.

I told Julie again that we were sort of near the Grand Canyon and that I'd try to call her back and then I hung up.

“Billie.” I went down the hallway. There were three doors, all of them closed.

“Billie!” I yelled, flinging open the first door. It was the bathroom. I opened the next; it was a bedroom all nice and neat with the bed made like it was at a hotel, probably his mom's.

“Billie Marshall, you come here right now!” Blood rushed through my veins. Nothing could happen to her. I was in charge. I had no idea who this kid really was. I put my hand on the doorknob in front of me.

Billie opened the door, her mouth covered in chocolate. She stood in a bedroom with two twin beds. “What?” she asked.

Half the room was covered in Star Wars stuff, and the other side was really messy, with clothes and food wrappers everywhere.

“Why are you screaming my name? I'm right here.”

Star Wars Kid stood behind her, holding a package of Double Stuf Oreos. “What's the matter? Was your mom home?”

I wanted to smack the cookies right out of his hand. “She's not allowed back here.” I pushed Billie up the hallway, back the way we had come.

“He said I could have another cookie.”

“No,” I said. “We're leaving.”

Star Wars Kid followed me. “I promised her she could have another. Do you want one?” he asked, his mouth creased with black cookie crumbs.

“She can't go anywhere without me, especially into some room with you. We don't even know you,” I said so loudly that I sort of even scared myself.

Star Wars Kid stepped back a little and leaned against the wall. “Sorry,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “She just wanted an Oreo.”

“Whatever.” I spun around and grabbed Billie's arm. “We're leaving.” We marched down the hall and turned the corner into the kitchen, where we were startled by a tall kid standing at the front door. Star Wars Kid's brother. The one we were running from.

“What's up,” he said, turning his baseball hat backward. He had a nose ring. And he didn't smile. His eyes flitted over Billie and me and then landed right on Star Wars Kid. His eyes narrowed. I could tell he was mean.

I shuddered as my instincts kicked in. Both my mind and my heart were telling me we had to get out of here.

 

Survival Strategy #29:

DON'T BE A HERO

“Get out, Jax,” said Star Wars Kid. “Mom said you had to leave me alone.”

Billie and me backed up so we were now standing right next to him.

Jax didn't look too concerned about his mom. He turned and locked the front door. “Where'd these girls come from?” he asked.

“They're my friends.”

Jax laughed. “You don't have any friends.”

Star Wars Kid's cheeks turned red. Finally, he whispered, “I do, too.”

Jax forced another laugh as cold as the inside of the ice machine at the gas station. “What?” he asked, putting his hand to his ear. “Speak up, numb-nut. I can't hear you.”

Star Wars Kid looked down, his nose running. He wiped it on his T-shirt. Snot smeared across the
S
and the
T
.

“We're his friends,” said Billie, taking a step forward.

I shook my head, pulling her behind me. Jax exhibited standard predator behavior. If we just stayed still and quiet, he might leave us alone.

“That's impossible.” He took a step toward us.

I couldn't stop looking at the locked door—it was getting hard to breathe. Now Jax was standing right in front of us. His T-shirt was wrinkled, like he had slept in it, and his breath smelled like Doritos.

He turned toward Star Wars Kid. “You're a loser. No one wants a loser for a friend.” He pointed to Billie. “You need a six-year-old to stand up for you?”

Star Wars Kid looked at his feet. A tear ran down his cheek and plopped onto his tennis shoe. He clutched the package of Oreos in his fist like he was trying to squeeze the cookies to death. The other hand opened and closed like it couldn't decide what to do.

Don't hit him,
I thought. There was no way Star Wars Kid could beat up his brother; Jax was almost as tall as Dad.

“Isn't that right?” Jax poked Star Wars Kid in the chest,
hard
. The cookies dropped and Star Wars Kid slumped up against the shelf holding the TV.

“I'm not six, I'm eight,” said Billie, poking her head out from behind me.

“Billie!” I whispered, pushing her back. “Be quiet.” If we could only get to the front door, then we could run for it. I inched us closer.

Then Jax looked at me, his eyes like those dead fish we saw at the pier the day of Mom's funeral. “Shut your mouth,” he said, trying to look around me at Billie.

I stood up taller, staring him in the eyes.
Go away.

He laughed. “Ohhh. Nice, nice. You think you're tough? I like that.” Jax turned back to Star Wars Kid, pushing his face so close that they had to be breathing the same Dorito air. “But this one's a wuss. Who cares about
you
?” he said, and then he spit in Star Wars Kid's face. And for a second, I wasn't sure what happened, because it happened so fast.

Star Wars Kid went crazy—like bearded-dragon, wild-animal crazy. When animals are pushed, they can only take so much before they break. He screamed and jumped on top of his brother, pummeling him with his fists. But Jax's fist smashed Star Wars Kid in the side of the head, and then they were just a mash of arms and legs and teeth and I couldn't tell what was really happening, except that Star Wars Kid was absolutely losing.

“Come on!” I yelled to Billie, pulling her toward the front door.

Billie's eyes were as big as steering wheels. “We have to help him.”

I dragged her forward. “No way. Now's our chance.” I twisted the dead bolt and pulled open the door. A breeze rushed in, blowing our hair back as we ran down the steps. Even from here I could hear Star Wars Kid crying. For a second, I paused. Billie looked at me, her eyes so full of—what? Hope? Fear? I couldn't tell, but she nodded at me.

“That's right!” Jax yelled. “You little punk, don't you ever—”

And that's when I made my decision. And it seemed like I could almost fly, because I reached the top of the landing in one huge step and pushed open the door.

“Stop it!” I yelled.

But nothing stopped. Jax still pounded Star Wars Kid. Star Wars Kid cried louder. I had to stop it or something bad was going to happen. I remembered Billie's cheek and Dad's hand. I had to stop it.

Then I spied the huge bowl of Legos sitting on the kitchen table. I grabbed it, my hands shaking, and before I could even think or make a plan, I walked over to them. Jax was still on top of his brother. Star Wars Kid's legs kicked out from underneath Jax.

“Leave him alone!” I yelled. But he wouldn't stop. So I threw the bowl as hard as I could. It smashed Jax in the back with a loud thunk. He rolled off of Star Wars Kid. He was stunned or confused. Or maybe both. But for a second, he just lay there, frozen.

“Come on,” I said, grabbing Star Wars Kid by the hand.

Billie stared at us from the doorway.

Then Jax staggered up to his feet. And after that, we didn't wait to see what would happen. We just ran like we had the wings of a desert hawk, or special Jedi powers, or adrenaline boosts to our bloodstreams. But whatever it was, we ran like we would never have to stop.