The black day arrives. I can’t sit still, so I focus on each task as if my life depended on it. Go to the store with Mako, get breakfast. Eat. Think. Plan. Anything to pass the time while remembering that today’s the day I get my revenge.
We take the M line to Forest Hill then transfer to a bus. The road is winding with rows of houses on one side and dense trees on the other. The bus turns, and we’re in the Inner Sunset.
We get to the park at 7:17 P.M., leaving us hours until any of the other gangs are set to arrive. But I already feel them. I feel them coming. Focusing on the ground beneath my feet, I manage to keep my calm.
Micah. Leo. This is for them. This is what I want.
I stand by Jax. “There’s not much cover.”
He lights a cigarette. “Just stick with the plan.”
His eyes are hard and focused as he scans the Music Concourse not once, but twice. A park security vehicle stops at the crosswalk. Mako and Kate take a selfie, playing the carefree tourists. The car rolls forward. Kate deletes the photo.
“You and Kate behind those benches.” Jax points to the other side. “Nianna and Mako there. Jaws in the pillars behind.” There’s a catch in his voice, and I feel it like I would a punch. We’re all used to him saying Micah’s name, too.
We drag our feet, not knowing whether to say good luck or goodbye or both.
Nianna steps up next to me. “You look nervous.”
“I’m fine.”
“Valerie?”
“What?”
“I’m sorry for what I said. About you not being a real Stag.”
“I’m sorry, too. I should have been more open from the start.”
I turn and walk away, the gravel crunching under my feet, and a faint feeling from the back of my mind ricochets forward. That’s the first time she’s called me by my full name. The only one who ever did was Micah.
Mako and Kate’s ritual is hard to watch. Their usual quick peck is slow, and they both linger. They’re breaking, like at the end of Casablanca. I can almost hear the whir of a plane waiting to take her away.
They pull apart, and I take Kate’s hand. He whispers one last thing in her ear. I want to say something, but there aren’t any words. I don’t say goodbye to Mako. If I looked back at him now, I’d lose all my nerve and tell them to run, please run, and be happy.
Logic says I can go. Loyalty says I can’t. I couldn’t protect Leo, and I couldn’t save Micah. I’ve lived with guilt long enough now to know its every whisper, the way it turns its head, the way it kisses and kills.
I know I’ll never be free if I run now. This time, I have to do something.
Dozens of trees spread their bulky limbs toward each other like synapses between neurons in the brain. Even though they’re tipped with green buds, the trees look nightmarish, like something out of a Tim Burton movie.
Jax takes a spot next to an aisle. Behind him, an elderly couple huddles together. There’s a group of teens hanging out on the steps in front of the columns. The girls squeal in ripped skinny jeans and oversized sweatshirts.
I hate them. I wish I were them—carefree.
Looking at the far side of the concourse, I can just make out the shapes of Kurt and Cameron. Juliet is over by the Cal Academy. We are making the Stag presence known.
Mako’s stationed a few rows back and to the right of Jax. Nianna disappears to the far side of the columns to guard the opposite side. Jaws paces the perimeter of the stage we’ve set, circling it in slow, weighty steps. When the security car comes again, he melts into the shadows of the columns until it drives past.
Kate and I take turns sitting on the bench and crouching down behind it. The benches are flimsy—no way they’d stop a bullet—with curling green armrests that remind me of Disneyland. Silly things you think about when you’re about to die.
There is nothing to do but wait and listen.
Buses load and offload passengers. Crows call to each other from the trees. The clang of a nearby flagpole’s line, tossed in the wind—I hear all of it.
Kate and I trade places. Blood rushes back into my legs as I stretch out. Down below, Jax starts on what must be his fourth or fifth cigarette. Farther down, Nianna and Mako pace around their post and each other. Getting here so early seemed like a smart idea. It gave us something to focus on.
But we still have hours to go.
Next to me, Kate makes a small noise in her throat. She shifts her gun. Then, out of nowhere, she laughs. “I just remembered what this place is called. It’s the Spreckels Temple of Music.”
“Really?”
“I read that somewhere. Spreckels Temple of Music. Spreckels. Like sprinkles.” We both laugh—nervously, desperately. Then she adds, “Hey, Val?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry for how I treated you. I know you were just trying to help.”
“It’s okay,” I say, reaching over to give her hand a squeeze. She takes it and squeezes right back.
That’s the last we say for a while. I think about calling Mom and Dad to say goodbye. Or maybe just to hear their voices. I decide not to.
Micah knew this would happen—me, choosing not to reach out. I didn’t get why he thought that then. I do now. I’ve changed. I don’t want to call home and have my parents realize that for themselves.
Stars poke out in the dark mantle of night, and I shiver again and again. The flavor of the air changes. Nighttime sets in, and every sound sharpens my senses until I’m a living, breathing X-Acto knife.
The Boars come first, their figures appearing from behind the museum. I watch as they hurry past a sculpture of three colored figures with their hands over their heads. I spot Adam Yglesias alongside a burly guy who keeps his head down, hood up. Quick, purposeful strides tell me the Boars mean business. Do they want peace, or revenge? Aren’t those our only choices, now? A few of them walk down near Jax, giving him a wide berth.
I notice the first Heron at the columns. Even in the low light, I recognize Aure’s pale face and fine features. She’s dressed head to toe in black but a white undershirt peeks out at her wrists.
Matthew appears by her side. He’s dressed just like Aure—as are the five other Herons crowded around them. Matthew says something to Camille, and she shakes her head. Then Aure goes down the steps with the others toward the benches, leaving Matthew with Camille beneath the coffers of the half dome.
Has Matthew risen in their ranks so fast? Or was Aure demoted because of what happened at Green Apple? I try to think of it like Jax would, and not like I would. Camille is playing to their position and history as a show of strength. To everyone else, Matthew is the next Heron leader, so it’s only natural he be up there.
Over at the benches, our leader stands up. He stretches and kicks at a loose stone on the ground then goes up and stands across from Matthew and Camille. Jax is grinning but not in a cheerful way. More like a maniacal, you’re-going-down way.
I find the handle of the gun in the holster around my leg.
“Wait for the signal,” Kate urges.
“I know.” But she doesn’t know what Jax and I planned.
Suddenly, worry for Jax burns in my chest. Jonathan Anthony Wilde—Theresa’s precious baby boy. He’ll be in the middle of it all. What if someone’s coming here with a vendetta against him?
I take careful breaths as I watch the leaders talk. Kate whispers to wait for the signal, and I nod each time. I wish I’d called home.
Then something happens.
Police cars materialize from the roadway, their headlights blinding in the pitch-dark. Oro en paz, fierro en guerra.
“Oh my god,” Kate says, pulling herself up from the ground. “Val, we’re—”
“Surrounded.” Caught in the oval bowl of the concourse. Police floodlights come to life with dull pops. The trees around us cast misshapen shadows over the benches. Over me and Kate. Over Jax. They’ll take us all and the Wars will be over, all my chances at revenge for Micah and Leo lost in red tape.
Without another thought, I sprint toward the platform just as police megaphones tell me what I already know: there’s nowhere to run.