Over My Head

by Charles de Lint

  "I'm not. It's—like an uncle thing. Los tíos, right?"

  "Huh?"

  "He's off the roof, but he's still on the move. So, unless he can fly, he's made his way down to the lane that runs behind the building."

  "You don't move," Solana tells me.

  "Wouldn't dream of it. He's heading north now. Moving fast. I think he must be in a car."

  "What make?"

  "I can't actually see him."

  I hear Agent Matteson curse in the background and I know why. The shooter's car has merged with other traffic. There's no way they're going to find him now.

  Solana's alone in the car when it pulls up to where Des and I are now standing on the sidewalk. Even though I know the shooter's long gone, I can't get rid of the little warning prickles in the back of my neck.

  "Where's Agent Matteson?" Des asks. "I thought you two were joined at the hip."

  "I'll be sure to tell him you said that."

  "He's on the rooftop," I say. "Where the guy with the gun was."

  Solana nods, staring at me like I've got a third eye or something. "That's right. He's looking for shell casings. You're both okay?"

  "We're fine."

  "Now can I convince you to get off the street and go somewhere safe?"

  I shake my head. Solana's cell rings before I can say anything.

  "There's nothing." My Wildling hearing lets me pick up Matteson's voice. "Some scuff marks, but no casings."

  "If he's from Black Key, he's a pro."

  "The kid all right?" Matteson asks.

  "Yeah, but he's still being stubborn," Solana says. "Want me to come pick you up?"

  "Nah, I'm good."

  Solana turns his attention back to us. "Will you at least let us drive you somewhere?"

  "Can we use the siren?" Des asks.

  Solana shakes his head. "What are you, twelve? Not a chance."

  "I've met some more of your uncles," I tell Solana. "They don't seem to like giving straight answers."

  "That sounds about right."

  "I also ran into Danny Reed. He told me what your Bureau Chief's planning."

  "I know. It's unfortunate. But he doesn't have any choice. Not with Congressman Householder coming to speak at that rally. By going with the registration idea, the Chief thinks he might be able to forestall the quarantine that Householder and his people are demanding."

  "What rally?" Des asks.

  "Humanity for Humans."

  "I never heard of it," I say.

  "It's happening this weekend," Solana tells us. "In the parking lot of the mall."

  "What's happening?"

  I turn to see that Matteson has joined us. It's interesting that he didn't set off any little warning pings in my head. I guess I really do trust him.

  "The rally," Solana tells him.

  Matteson snorts. "You mean the crapfest."

  "This registration thing that your boss is rolling out," I say. "Is it even legal?"

  "That's for Congress to decide," Matteson says. "Personally, I don't think they can make it stick. If they could, every gang member and mobster would be in custody by now."

  "I thought the Black Key guys were already locked up," I say.

  "Some are, but not all—the operative word being 'some.' As you just found out, that means it's dangerous for you to be out in the open."

  "I'm not hiding."

  Solana nods. "Will you at least start carrying your phone again?"

  I give him a look of mock surprise.

  "What?" I say. "The uncles won't tell you where I am anymore?"

  "What uncles?" Matteson ask.

  Solana gives me a pissed-off look and sighs.

  "I'll tell you later," he says to his partner before returning his attention to me: "Carry your phone."

  "I will. I just haven't been home yet to get it."

  "So go. Now."

  I nod.

  Speaking of phones, Des's starts to ring in his pocket. He pulls it out and checks the call display.

  "We're gonna have to motor," he says as he brings the phone to his ear.

  I hear Cory giving him the time and place where we're meeting with Auntie Min.

  "We'll be there," Des tells him, though he's looking at me with a question in his eyes.

  "I'll go," I tell him.

  "Go where?" Solana asks.

  I smile. "It's private. You've got a tracker on Des's phone, so you'll figure it out. But you won't be welcome."

  "Kid," Matteson says. "These gangs are just going to bring you more trouble. Your buddy Chaingang is only going to keep you around until he gets whatever it is that he wants from you."

  "Tell me something I don't know," I say.

  But I don't agree.

  "Come on, Des," I say. As we start walking away, I call over my shoulder, "Thanks for chasing that guy off."

  Solana is still frowning. Matteson just shakes his head.

  "Who are these uncles the kid was talking about?" I hear Matteson say.

  Des and I keep walking.

  Chaingang

  J-Dog would laugh his ass off if he could see me right now, and I don't want to even think about the guys back in juvie. But I don't care. Sitting here on this bench with my arm around Marina is pretty much the best thing that's happened to me since we first kissed. Better. Because neither of us are pretending this time.

  Not that I ever was.

  I know it's not going to be easy, but I don't care about that, either. We can work this out. I'll do whatever I can to make it work.

  But first we have to deal with all the crap the rest of the world is throwing at us.

  "Sounds like Donalita has a crush on you," Marina says when we finish up telling each other about our days. "Should I be jealous?"

  Oh, crap. Why did I have to bring up Donalita's flirting?

  "It's not like that," I start, but then I see her smile and I let it go.

  I know exactly what that smile means. She's getting a kick out of seeing me flustered because I'm the big bad Chaingang who never loses his cool.

  "Relax," she says. "I'm kidding. What we really have to do is figure out how to handle this. Us."

  I nod. "What's your take?"

  "Well, no public displays that could get back to Mamá—this'd kill her, and I'd never get out of the house again."

  "Okay."

  "What about your brother and the other Avers?"

  "It's none of their business, but I supposeif they found out, it could get back to, you know, school, and your sister, which would get it to your mother."

  She nods. "Except she doesn't talk to my mother, but I get your point. She'd definitely tell my dad."

  "What about Josh and Des?" she adds. "I'm not so into keeping secrets from them, especially Josh, but Des isn't exactly known for being discreet."

  "Your call. I've got no problem with them knowing, so long as Des can keep a lid on it."

  "How about my friend Julie?"

  "I'm okay with that. I'd like to introduce you to my grandmother, but you've got to promise me no joking about how I'm trying to jump you into the gang or anything like that when we see her."

  She smiles. "Like I'd do that."

  My phone rings. I'd prefer to ignore it, but I know I probably can't. I check the call display and see that it's Cory.

  "Go ahead and take it," Marina says.

  I nod, but I have to make sure she knows what this means.

  "If we get any deeper into this," I tell her, "we could lose control over everything and things will never be the same again. Your mother finding out about us will be the least of your worries."

  "I know. But it's Josh. We can't just abandon him."

  "He's already outted himself to the Kings. We're not far off from the whole world knowing what he is. When that happens, it won't be long before they know who we are, too. Guilt by association."

  She pulls back and looks at me. "Are you saying we shouldn't get involved?"

  I shake my head. "I just want to
remind you what's at stake. There's no turning back after this."

  She swallows hard and says, "Do it. Answer."

  I press Talk.

  "What's up, bro?" I ask Cory.

  "You know where that is?" I ask as I stow the phone back in my pocket.

  Marina shakes her head.

  "It's just south of Tiki Bay—you've surfed there, right?"

  "But there's nothing on that headland."

  "Kinda the point," I say. "Private. No one's going to drop in uninvited. Can you come?"

  I like the way her face goes when she's thinking. Hell, I like everything about her.

  "It's early to be sneaking out," she says.

  "Maybe you could say you're going to your father's? Get Ampora to cover for you."

  "Like that'd ever happen."

  "Tell her she owes you."

  "She'll just laugh."

  I shake my head. "No, she won't. Tell her like it's already a done deal. The only reason she gets away with the crap she does is because she plays on your guilt. She disses you, threatens you, just give her the hard stare, no budging. The only tough part is, you've got to be prepared to back it up."

  "And if that doesn't work?"

  "It'll work. You've already shown her today that you can play hardball. Just lay it down like you mean it and she'll cave."

  "But I do feel guilty. She didn't deserve the heavy treatment I gave her today. I totally blew it."

  "But look at how she treats you. No wonder you misread her. She's always playing the tough little gangsta chick. The best thing you could do for Ampora is to give her a dose of her own medicine. Talk her own language and maybe she'll finally start listening to you."

  Marina shrugs. "You make it sound so easy."

  "It's not so much easy, as looking at the world a different way. Act like you're in charge, and nine times out of ten, people just accept it. Why do you think I get to sit on my ass on a picnic table outside the school every day, but I don't get expelled? Part of it's that I'm not making trouble and they know I could—especially if I call in my brother. But most of it's because I'm not entertaining any other options. I put out a 'this is the way it is' vibe, and they let it ride."

  She smiles. "Yeah, but that's you."

  "Don't kid yourself," I tell her. "Ampora knows she owes you, and I'll bet under that hard-ass mask of hers she feels just as guilty as you do. For some people, being pissed off is the way they deal with their guilt."

  "Okay," she says. "I'll give it a shot. But first I have to jump in the surf so that Mamá knows I actually came down here."

  "We've still got some time before we have to meet the others," I tell her. "Ride a few waves. After the day you've had, I'll bet you need it."

  "You're something, you know that?"

  "Something good or something bad?"

  Her smile gets bigger. "Probably a bit of both." She waits a beat then adds, "So will you ever come surfing with me?"

  I smile right back at her. "Will you ride on my bike?"

  "I've already done that."

  "True."

  "So will you?"

  "We get through all of this," I tell her, "and there's no end to the things I'd like to try with you."

  She ducks her head, but I can see the blush. Grabbing her board, she pops it free from its wheels and runs around the rocks toward the surf.

  I stand and move to the far side of the rocks to watch the poetry in motion.

  Man, I can't stop smiling. Her, me. Nobody else around. It doesn't get much better than this.

  Josh

  "Want to stop and grab your phone?" Des asks.

  We've been walking in the direction of the beach to catch Ocean Avenue, which we'll then take out to the Pacific Coast Highway. The route takes us right through the east side of our own neighbourhood.

  I shake my head. "That'd mean I'd have to talk to my mother. She's been pretty cool with all of this, but if I stop in now, she's going to want to know what I've been up to and where I'm going, and I wouldn't know what to tell her."

  "There's that."

  "Do you need to check in?"

  "Nah. I already told Mom I was hanging with you and I might be late getting home."

  "And what are we supposed to be doing?" I ask in case his mother asks me. It's always good to get the stories straight.

  Des shrugs. "No specifics. Just hanging out."

  We walk a couple more blocks before he adds, "Maybe we should have taken the Feds up on their offer of a ride, dude. It's at least a twenty-mile hike out to Tiki Bay. It's going to take us forever."

  "We're not walking."

  "I'm not riding you as a mountain lion," he tells me.

  I have to laugh out loud at the image. "Like I could carry you."

  But I know I'm strong enough to carry him in human shape and I could run the distance easily.

  "Let's try hitchhiking," I say. "We haven't done that in a while."

  "There's a good reason for that, dude. Nobody picks up hitchhikers anymore except for the surfers, and they're all out on the waves by now."

  "Do you have money for a cab?" I ask.

  "Dude. You're not seriously asking me that, are you?"

  Des never has money. Soon as he gets any, he spends it.

  "Then it's hitch or walk," I tell him.

  "Hitchhiking it is."

  There's still lots of traffic on the Pacific Coast Highway as we follow it south, but no Good Samaritans. We keep to the side of the road, sticking out our thumbs as we walk along. When we get near the Ocean Avers clubhouse I consider stopping in to get my bicycle, but I put the idea right out of my head as soon as it comes. If Chaingang's not there we'll just be walking into a whole new mess of trouble.

  The sun is starting to lower onto the horizon. I figure we've got about another hour of light and there's still a long way to go. Des isn't going to like it, but if we're going to get to where the others are before the night's over, I really might have to piggyback him the rest of the way.

  "Dude, we are never getting a ride," he says as another car goes whipping by.

  There's just the driver, alone in a big Buick with lots of room. I watch him until a curve takes the vehicle out of sight and then give Des a glum nod.

  When a white Dodge van stops for us around ten minutes later, it doesn't even register that they're offering us a ride until the driver beeps his horn. Des and I give each other a grin and sprint for the vehicle. The side door slides open and a big Latino guy smiles down at us.

  "Come on in," he says.

  But Des and I just stand there with our mouths open.

  There are six people in the van—and all of them are Wildlings. One of them gives off the powerful vibe of one of the older cousins, the rest are like me. Newly minted. But that's not what has us staring.

  I don't recognize the guy driving, or the guy giving off the old cousin vibe in the shotgun seat, but the other four I've seen a million times. On the sleeves of CDs and 7" vinyl singles. On YouTube and their website.

  It's The Wild Surf.

  Only our favourite band of all time.

  Chuy Martinez, the drummer, is the one who told us to get in. Beside him is Eddie Myers, the bass player, looking thinner than ever next to Chuy's towering bulk. Behind them are La Bamba, the lead guitarist who looks like a young Mexican Elvis, but plays like Dick Dale on speed, and Joanie Jones, the singer, just as hot in person as she is on a computer screen. When she smiles at us, I feel something melt inside.

  La Bamba waves a hand in front of her face.

  "Jesus, Joanie," he says. "Will you tone it down?"

  "But they're cute."

  Joanie Jones thinks we're cute.

  "Especially the surfer," she adds.

  Okay, so she likes Des better, but she still thinks I'm cute.

  "Joanie," the older man in the front seat says with a warning in his voice.

  "Okay, okay."

  And just like that, the melting feeling is gone. I shake my head. Joanie's
still hot, but where a moment ago, awareness of her seemed to fill my every nook and cranny, now I can just admire her and still think straight.

  "Pheromones," Des whispers beside me.

  I cringe a little. Des thinks he's being subtle, but everybody here except him is a Wildling. They all heard him. But if he's right, if that's what pheromones can do, no wonder Ampora and Sandy were so into me.

  "Hey, I know you," Des says to the older guy. "You're Tomás—the L.A. Wildling godfather or whatever."

  Everybody in the van laughs.

  "Oh, yeah," La Bamba drawls. "The Big Kahuna himself."

  "Or at least he thinks he is," Joanie adds.

  They all laugh some more, then Chuy repeats his invitation: "Get in, get in."

  Joanie hooks a finger at Des and pats the seat beside her. He looks at me. When I shrug, he squeezes past Chuy to sit beside her. Eddie and Chuy move over to make room for me. I close the door and the driver pulls back out onto the highway.

  "We're just going up as far as Tiki Bay," I say.

  "Yeah, we know, Josh," Chuy tells me.

  I turn to look at him. This is too weird.

  "How would you know?" I have to ask. "How do you even know my name?"

  Eddie starts to hum the theme from The Twilight Zone until Chuy elbows him.

  "I told them to stop," the guy in the shotgun seat says. He turns to face me. "We're going to the same meeting."

  "Meeting? I thought I was just going to talk to Auntie Min. I didn't know there was going to be a whole crowd."

  "We're with Tomás," Chuy says. "We're not taking part in any meeting."

  "Because it would be bor-ring," Joanie says from behind me.

  "This isn't making any sense," I say. "Why's the band here? How'd you know I'd be on the highway?"

  "He's our manager," Chuy says.

  "Yeah," Eddie adds, "and we've got a gig in San Diego tomorrow night. Our sound crew's already gone ahead with the gear."

  "Okay, but—"

  "I didn't expect to see you until the meeting," Tomás says. "But when I saw you and your friend walking along the side of the road, I had Brian stop for you." He cocks his head. "Are you always this suspicious?"

  "Hey, dude," Des says. "It's not paranoia when everybody is out to get you."

  Joanie giggles. I'm fast losing any excitement I had in meeting her. She may be cool on stage and have a great voice, but here—away from the stage lights where she fronts a kick-ass band—she could be any one of a dozen or so of the interchangeable airheads at school.