It wasn’t rush hour, so the trip to the city was fast—the distance had seemed so much longer when he was lying awake in bed trying to figure out how to get back to the old neighborhood. “I’ll drop you off,” said Luke as they exited the interstate. “But I only have a couple errands, so it’ll have to be a quick visit. How do I get there?”
“Um … I think you turn here,” said Socko. They cut through a neighborhood in which all the signs were in Spanish. “Try a … right at that bodega.” In the next neighborhood the buildings looked vacant.
This was a possibility Socko hadn’t considered. What if he couldn’t find his way back home?
Then suddenly the gray concrete pile that was Grover Cleveland Middle School was in front of him. “Here! Turn here!” Socko strained forward in his seat, tugging against the belt.
He saw a Tarantula tag on a Dumpster and Mrs. A. walking Puppy Precious past Two Guys Pawn Shop. Even though she was Meat’s mother, he wanted to jump out and kiss her. He was home!
Then he remembered his mission.
As they rolled past the familiar storefronts he repeated a silent chant: make it easy, make it easy.
They reached the corner of his street. “Stop here.” Socko scanned the block— Damien was just coming out of Donatelli’s. Alone! Although it looked like things were going to be easy after all, Socko’s palms went all sweaty. “See ya, Luke. Thanks for the ride.”
“Half an hour. Be on this corner.”
“Sure.” Socko slammed the door behind him. He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Yo, Damien!”
His friend turned toward him fast, then looked back over his shoulder at Donatelli’s plate glass window. He hesitated just a second before running down the long block toward Socko.
Socko ran too, wondering what they were supposed to do when they reached each other. Hug? High five?
Damien stopped a few feet away from him. “Hey,” he said. “Nice lid.”
“Superpowered. You want it back?”
“Nah. I kind of replaced it.” That’s when Socko noticed that the bill of Damien’s new cap pointed to the side.
“What happened? They make you join?”
Damien shrugged.
“Don’t worry about it. Soon as Luke—Luke’s the guy with the truck—soon as he comes back I’ll get you outta here.”
“Like an abduction?” The crooked grin was pure Damien, but it dimmed fast as he looked over his shoulder. “Not a great idea. A lot has changed since you blew outta here. I gotta stick around.”
“Why?”
“My mom and the latest boyfriend.”
“What about ’em?”
Damien took another quick glance toward Donatelli’s. “It’s kind of complicated.” He touched his new cap—the same way he’d always touched the S on his old one. “Let’s just say that in my present situation it doesn’t hurt to have some brothers around.”
“Brothers?”
At the sound of a sharp whistle, Damien turned fast. Rapp, Meat, and some other guys were standing in front of the door to the convenience store.
Damien looked at Socko. “Gotta go—” He did a stutter step backwards. “And you should get outta here.” He took off.
Socko watched the soles of Damien’s sneakers as he flew past the Jumbo Dollar, the Rockin’ Wok, the newsstand, and the vacant store that used to sell scratch-and-dent appliances.
Damien had nearly reached Donatelli’s when Socko started running too. Was he crazy following his friend right into a nest of Tarantulas? Definitely. But he kept on running.
By the time Socko got to them, Damien was already slouched against the wall between Rapp and Meat, his slumped back resting easy against the brick wall, like he’d been there all along. Only his chest pumping in and out proved he’d just run hard.
Meat’s head pivoted slowly. “Well. Look who’s here.” Rapp made a point of not noticing him. The others took their cue from the gang leader. Still, Socko could feel it. They were on alert.
Rapp continued to lean against the wall, but one hand slid into the baggy pocket where he kept his knife. Socko’s legs began to shake, remembering the last time he’d crossed Rapp.
He had to concentrate on his friend. This was his one chance to figure out what was going on. “Damien?”
No response.
The Damien Socko knew moved like a scribble, fast and all over the place. But now, surrounded by the gang, Damien even blinked slow. And it wasn’t just his face that was playing dead. He was barely moving, like he was in a trance.
But Socko had seen the smile. Damien hadn’t faked that. “Can I talk to you a minute?” he asked.
Rapp and Meat shifted against the wall, framing Damien even tighter. Rapp’s hand emerged from his pocket. He flipped the knife in the air. It landed on his palm with a soft slap.
Socko was shaking, but he kept at it. “It won’t take long, just a couple minutes. It’s nothing to do with you guys.”
“What you say to one brother you say to all,” Rapp said. Two guys Socko didn’t know pushed away from the wall. Redeploying, they took up positions behind Socko on the sidewalk.
“It’s cool, Rapp.” Socko held out his empty hands. “I just wanna talk to Damien.”
“Give it up, man.” Meat’s voice sounded almost kind.
Socko knew that it was time to go. Past time. “Let him walk to the corner with me. You guys can watch,” he babbled, “I just want to talk to my friend for two minutes. Just two minutes.”
Rapp swung his elbow and nudged Damien. “How ’bout it? You wanna take a walk with your little friend?”
Damien barely shrugged. “Guess I’m fine right here.”
“That’s it then. Conversation over.” Rapp smiled at Socko. “You heard Lil’ D.”
A bead of cold sweat ran down Socko’s spine, but he didn’t move.
“Something wrong with your hearing?” This time Meat didn’t sound so friendly.
Socko felt the two guys behind him step closer. He kept his eyes on the convenience store’s plate glass window, hoping to use it as a mirror to show him what was going on behind him. What caught his eye instead was Mr. Donatelli lurking between two racks of chips, watching the scene on the sidewalk. Despite the audience, Socko knew he was on his own. Whatever happened next, the store owner would swear he hadn’t seen a thing.
Socko concentrated on the images reflected on the glass. In the background was the empty street, three parking meters. He saw himself and the two guys, who now stood so close behind him he could hear their open-mouth breathing.
Something was about to snap; Socko could feel it.
His reflected view of the street blurred, and the side of a truck hid the street. Although the words read backwards on the glass, he still recognized them: Holmes Homes.
“Hey!” Luke’s voice was strong.
When Socko whipped around, Luke was standing in the open driver’s door of the truck, his muscular arms resting on the roof of the cab. “You ready?” He looked past Socko. “Hey … Damien?”
Damien put a hand on his chest. “You talkin’ to me?”
“Yeah. How about if you ride along with us?”
Socko watched Luke’s face for Damien’s answer.
Luke nodded once. “Okay. Suit yourself. Let’s go, Socko.”
Socko stumbled past the two guys nearest the street and fell into the passenger seat. Although the confrontation was over, he could barely walk. Safe inside the truck, he looked back at Damien as they pulled away from the curb. Just like last time, he was leaving his friend behind.
“You all right?” asked Luke.
“Fine.” Socko took a deep breath and fastened his seatbelt. “That was a quick half hour.”
“I got a few blocks away, then something told me I’d better swing back. Sometimes these neighborhood punks can be just as dangerous as a real gang.”
“Thanks.” Rescued again. Rescued every time.
His mind went to Moon Ridge, where he acted all tough in front of Livvy. What a joke. He might “fit the description,” but he was gutless. Livvy would have stood up to the Tarantulas better than he had.
Collapsed against the truck door, Socko listened to the tires grumble over the cracked tar.
Maybe Damien was getting by the only way he could. But Socko clung to the fact that the goofy grin his friend had given him when Rapp and the others were out of the picture was real. Damien lived.
The first of Mr. Holmes’s errands involved picking up an envelope from a glass office building. Socko sat in the double-parked truck while Luke dashed inside. If he had been dropped on this street, Socko wouldn’t have known where he was. Could this be the same city? All the men going in and out of the building wore suits and ties; the women were dressed like Livvy’s mom.
What had almost gone down in front of Donatelli’s could never happen here.
Suddenly Socko understood. The old neighborhood wasn’t the whole world. It was just a box—a really small one. But Damien didn’t know that.
He’d never been outside the box.
The old man was sitting ramrod straight in his wheelchair when Socko came through the door. “What in the Sam Hill took you so long?” the General demanded. “Did you get in the way of any more punches?”
“No, sir.”
The single eye looked Socko up and down. “Your front looks okay. Any damage on the back?”
“No, sir.” Knowing the General would demand proof, Socko turned in place.
“I’ve been on high alert ever since you left, which made listening to Eddie Corrigan’s babble even more annoying than usual. I kept wondering what I would tell Delia Marie if you went and got yourself killed.”
“Thanks for the confidence.”
The General drummed his fingers on the arms of the wheelchair. “Report on the mission.”
“Mission not accomplished.” Socko put his foot on the bottom step of the staircase.
“Halt.”
Socko let his head drop back and stared at the ceiling. All he wanted to do right now was go to his room and close the door. He did not want to play soldiers.
“Would you just tell me what happened, son?”
Socko turned and sank down on the step. Keeping it simple, he told the General the basic story, thinking as he explained it of a dozen better, braver things he could have done. The General listened in stony silence.
“And that’s about it, sir. Can I go to my room now?”
“Idiot!” the old man snapped.
“I am not an idiot!” Socko snapped back. “I … I couldn’t think of what to do. I wimped, okay? I couldn’t think at all … those guys—”
“You’re not the durn-fool idiot, Socko. I am! I should never have let you go back there. Anything could have happened. And your mission most definitely is accomplished. You are never ever to go back there again. Compree?”
“Compree.” Socko knew that saying he understood was the only way to get the General to say, “Dismissed!”
But understanding and obeying were two different things.