Cornered

by Rhoda Belleza

  He looked like an angry hunchback and started to call her names I won’t even repeat. Brooke laughed and let go him go with a light push, causing Tyler to stumble before he spun around to glare at us. I took a half step behind Brooke. Not hiding exactly. More like cowering. Two guys—one dirty blond and blue eyed, one brown-haired and with a quick, easy smile—came up to stand beside Brooke. They were both sweaty from skateboarding and wore the same PLUMPY’S shirts on as Brooke. My introduction to Sam and Ramon.

  “Is there a problem, chica?” Ramon asked. He was spinning his skateboard slowly in his hands, his eyes lit up in a rather maniacal fashion. His friend Sam just laughed, wiping sweat off his forehead with one hand and leaning on his board with the other. He was smiling too. Perfectly pleasant. Sam didn’t loom or menace or anything like that; he had no need for one of Tyler’s parlor tricks. Yet there was something about him, something unmovable and steady that while good-natured and not fear inspiring, clearly said hands off. How did he do that? How could I do that?

  “Nope,” Brooke said. “We were just leaving, weren’t we?” I felt my stomach bottom out. My saviors were abandoning me. Tyler grinned, something more fitting for a shark then a person.

  Brooke put her arm through mine. “Coming?” I nodded dumbly, too surprised to speak. Tyler’s vicious smile began to crumble into a look of confusion. All he could do was stare as I was escorted out of his reach. “C’mon,” Brooke said gently. “I’ll buy you a milk shake. You like milk shakes?” Again I nodded. Ramon hopped onto his board and skated down the sidewalk in front of us.

  Sam stayed walking, apparently content as he was. He glanced at me from the corner of his eye. “Sucks about your iPod,” he said.

  I jammed my hands into my pockets trying hard not to think about what Tyler had cost me today. Patches on four tires, if they were able to be patched, the iPod, and a whole lot of self-worth . . . and I was already in the red in that department.

  “Can you get a new one?” Brooke asked.

  I shook my head, my eyes suddenly growing blurry. Just what I needed to do to impress these people—cry over a damn iPod. Looking away, I swiped at my eyes with the back of my wrist and hoped no one noticed. “I can’t afford it.” And lying to my parents by saying I’d dropped it would just earn me a lecture on responsibility, so I couldn’t do that.

  Sam lazily spun one of the wheels on his board with his finger. “We’re hiring, you know. Plumpy’s sucks, but the people aren’t bad.”

  A sudden constriction in my chest made it so I had to clear my throat to answer him. “Well, I could use the money.”

  • • •

  Brooke stared at Tyler as he talked to Maren. Her eyes were in a squint and her mouth was slightly downturned. “Well, he hasn’t changed, has he?”

  “No,” I whispered. “He hasn’t.” And I felt the old fear coming back, the tightness, the panic sweat.

  “His kind never really does.” Brooke slipped a spectral arm through mine. “But you have.”

  I shook my head. I didn’t feel any different.

  “Are you kidding me? You’re chatting with a ghost like it’s no big deal. You’re driving a classic car, and you live in a house with a necromancer. You regularly talk to werewolves, and this morning I saw you give one of the attack gnomes a dressing down.”

  “He set my pants on fire. I felt like some sort of discussion was in order.”

  “Exactly,” she said. “And what about the time you talked to my severed head, huh? I bet ol’ Tyler would’ve wet his pants.”

  “Brooke, if I remember correctly, I screamed and threw shampoo bottles at you. Not really one of my finer moments.”

  Andy slipped up next to me, his arms full of DVD cases. “If ever a man was a waste of resources, it would be Tyler.” He tipped his chin toward James, a wistful cast to his expression. “Now him . . .” And he gave a low, appreciative whistle.

  I shook my head. “He’s not into . . . well, actually, I’m not sure what he’s into. He’s just scary.” James came over then, a box set of DVDs in his hand.

  Brooke peered at the cover. “What’s Murder, She Wrote?”

  “The blood has left your face,” he said, ignoring Brooke as he examined me coolly. “And your heart rate is up.” He did a quick scan of the room, catching sight of Tyler halfway. “Ah. A friend, I see.” Though he was smiling faintly his look reminded me of the expression some cats get when they see a moth. Kind of a oh good, a new toy sort of thing.

  “I should haunt his ass,” Brooke said. “Think Sam can teach me how to haunt people?”

  “Tyler,” I explained to James.

  Andy jumped forward, his hand extended despite having to juggle DVD cases to do so. “And I’m Andy.” James shook it absently.

  “Frank and I were just discussing how much carbon and water were squandered when Tyler was created.”

  “I suppose we should be the bigger people.” I shuffled my feet on the carpet, trying to channel their instinctive need to run. “You know, forgive and so forth. Let the existence he’s carved out be his punishment or something.”

  Brooke continued to size Tyler up. “No way—we totally did that before. That was stupid. Maturity is for amateurs.”

  Andy turned to me, his eyes wide and his eyebrows up, as if really seeing me for the first time. “Are you serious? I mean really? This isn’t some PSA afterschool special pile of crap. We don’t have to be better men—for crying out loud, man, we don’t even have to learn anything.” He jerked his chin at Tyler. “That pile of poly-cotton blend and testosterone certainly doesn’t deserve our consideration. You think he’s learned anything? He still calls me pansy and hits on Maren because he thinks, and I quote, that it’s ‘all sexy when she speaks Chinese.’”

  “I thought she was Japanese.”

  Andy rolled his eyes and started roughly shelving the cases. “She is. And before you ask, no, she doesn’t speak Chinese. She just repeats quotes from Sun Tzu her dad had her memorize. She only speaks Japanese because her adoptive parents wanted her to ‘know her heritage’ or something.”

  “She sounds awesome,” Brooke said. “You go talk to her while I figure out how to possess Tyler. . . .”

  “You should do something. Attack before your enemy knows you’re coming,” James said as he handed the box set to Andy. “I wish to purchase these.”

  Andy’s face burned red. He mumbled something that sounded vaguely like it might be English before cradling the DVD set to his chest. I’d never seen Andy be anything but one hundred percent suave. It was almost reassuring to see him falter.

  “I’m gonna try to make his head do a three sixty!” Brooke added.

  “Shush,” I said. When James scowled at me, I assured him, “Not you. And not you either, Andy.”

  “Ah, I see,” Andy said and nodded sagely. “The inner monologue is a harsh mistress.”

  Film students take so much in stride, and of course, that’s what Andy was majoring in. We had never really become friend-friends. He was—is—a little too cool for me. I’m still a flyweight when it comes to popularity.

  But he had a point. I was so used to rolling over and making things easy on everyone else. Avoiding confrontation. Trying to be good. And for what? For who? Was I really trying to make life easier for Tyler of all people? What about Andy? Maren? And for the first time I thought, What about me?

  It was like an angry volcano had been lying dormant in my chest and only now was it waking up. Steam and heat escaped from its seams while beneath it red-hot lava boiled and churned. I didn’t want Tyler to change me. Brooke was right; I’d come a long way and I didn’t want to lose who I was now. I’m generally happy keeping the peace.

  Just, you know, not today.

  “Andy, do you have a Sharpie? The biggest, fattest, permanent marker you can scrounge.”

  Andy shelved the last of the cases, juggling James’s box set while he did, and nodded. “Yes, and based purely on the look on your face, I’m not even going to ask
what you need it for, because I feel like the less I know, the better.” He came back and handed over the marker without making eye contact, then went to ring James up. I could see him trying to make small talk with James as they walked away. James wasn’t saying anything back, because he doesn’t understand the point of chatting to begin with.

  I held up my cell phone again so I could talk to Brooke without looking crazy. I explained my idea to her, and she grinned wickedly. “I was just going to pants him, but this sounds way better.”

  “So you can do it?” I asked.

  She crossed her arms and snorted. “Ninja, please. I can move objects, for a short time at least. You think I’ve been wasting my free afternoons? I’ve been learning things.” She took the marker and was gone.

  I went up to the counter where Tyler was still monopolizing Maren’s time. James had inexplicably vanished, so I chatted with Andy, asking him different questions about movies, partly to make sure I was getting a good present for Ramon, but mostly so I could have an alibi. Sensing salvation, Maren joined in our discussion.

  “I agree with Andy,” she said. “Black Sheep is amazing. WETA did the creature effects and man, those killer sheep look spectacular. Totally gory.” She shook her head. “I love that movie.”

  “Well, I don’t see how I can argue with both of you. I’ll bow to your knowledge. Follow-up question—I was thinking of getting him another film. Incubus or Mega Piranha?”

  Andy rested his elbows on the counter. “That depends. Do you actually like this person?”

  Maren tapped his head with a movie case. “What a crap answer.” She turned toward me. “You get him Incubus now. Then, the next time he deserves a present, you get him Mega Piranha, Mega Shark vs. Giant Octopus, and of course Mega Python vs. Gatoroid. That way you can have a marathon that not only covers giant mutant creatures but also features washed-up pop singers who can’t act.”

  I pulled out my wallet to pay for the movies, noticing out of the corner of my eye that James had rejoined us at some point. “That’s a little harsh, don’t you think? I mean, clearly the directors were going for camp. Poor acting and camp go hand in hand.”

  “That’s not entirely true,” Andy said.

  Maren shrugged and started checking in movies with the scanner. “Look, all I know is the entire time I was watching those movies, I wanted to feed Debbie Gibson a sandwich. She’s too skinny.”

  “I think you mean Deborah Gibson,” Andy said. “She goes by her grown-up name now.”

  I laughed. Tyler looked between us, clearly confused by our conversation and Maren’s choice in joining it. Finally he gave up and left. Well, for a minute. Then he came back in spitting and fuming, his face apoplectic and red.

  “Car . . . words . . . I . . . not cool” were really all I could make out as Tyler sputtered. The rest sounded like he was trying to say several words at the same time. Tyler turned on me and pointed a shaking finger. “You—I know it was you, freak.”

  I didn’t even have to argue with him. Maren beat me to it. “I don’t know what you’re accusing him of, but he’s been inside the store this whole time.”

  He jabbed a finger into my chest. “And how would I know what car was yours?” I asked calmly, serenely, downright Zen-like. I’ve become much better at lying over the last year.

  “Let’s just go see what this is all about, shall we?” Andy asked, but he was nudging us out the door as he did. Well, he nudged most of us. Instead of herding James, he opened the door with a little bow and a hand flourish. James of course acted like all doors were opened for him in this manner. Andy didn’t touch Tyler, either. He followed behind us like an angry satellite, moving out the door with a sort of slouching gait, his hands shoved into his jeans’ pocket.

  Tyler drove a junker about as nondescript as he was—or it had been. Now it was covered in marker. From where I was standing I could make out just a few of the slogans: I <3 High School Musical. To Wang Fu-Tastic! Somewhere over the rainbow. . . the last was surrounded by musical notes. And rainbows. There were hearts and stars. And what looked like a dancing pony. Brooke had really gone to town.

  Andy examined the front of the car. “Huh, I didn’t know you were Team Jacob. I would have pegged you for Team Edward for sure.”

  Tyler swore and rushed at Andy. I stepped in between them and Tyler was surprised into an awkward stop. Unbalanced, he stumbled backward. I stuck my hands into the pockets of my hoodie.

  “I understand you’re upset—really I do. It’s terrible to be labeled and vandalized.” I pretended to think about it. “I mean, I’m assuming that you’ve been vandalized. I can only guess at the feelings of humiliation you’re feeling right now.” I waved at the pristine Karmann Ghia off to my right. “I know if anything happened to my car, well.” Tyler’s face went from red to white as he stared at my car. Now I’m not a car dude and I don’t think of myself as a petty guy, but I have to admit I felt pretty good rubbing my ride in his face. Too bad he couldn’t see Brooke sitting on its hood grinning like a goon.

  Some color returned to Tyler’s face. “If it wasn’t your little boyfriend,” he said, giving Andy a little shove. “Then what about this guy?” He didn’t touch James. I think he knew instinctively that it wasn’t a good idea.

  James cocked his head to the side, his arms tucked neatly behind his back. “If I had wished harm upon your car, there would be nothing left.” And something about the way he said it, so matter-of-factly, made you instantly believe it to be true.

  “He played lookout!” Brooke shouted happily and I had to suppress a grin.

  I patted Tyler’s shoulder sympathetically. “Assaulting Andy is just going to land you in legal trouble, and you don’t want that, do you? I didn’t think so,” I said without letting him finish.

  James gave him a tight-lipped grin and held out his phone. “Do you wish to call the police? Your insurance company? Perhaps a solicitor? If you don’t have one, I’m sure mine can suggest a few names who would take you on. . . .” He scrunched his nose at Tyler’s rust-heap. “Pro bono.”

  Tyler stared at his phone like it was diseased. I bet that getting the cops involved was the last thing he wanted to do. As for insurance, he probably either didn’t have it or his parents were still paying for it.

  He mumbled something. It sounded like, “Whatever.” Then he got into his car and took off with a squeal, almost hitting the parked car behind him.

  “I don’t know how you did it,” Andy said. “But I’m more impressed by you now than I’ve ever been.”

  “How did you even know which car was his?” Maren asked James.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. “I didn’t go near his . . . vehicle.”

  “He should clean his car more often,” Brooke chirped. “He had mail and stuff all over his seat. His name was everywhere.” She pushed herself off the hood. “I still think I should have pantsed the jerk. Maybe I could follow him,” she mused.

  “I admit to nothing but to the fact that I have the best friends on the planet,” I said.

  We went to go back into the store. Andy couldn’t stop smiling. “We need to hang out more, man. I like your style.” I blushed from the praise.

  Maren punched me in the arm, which just made me turn a darker shade of red. I thought I was going to self-combust. “All I know is you get my discount for life.”

  Behind me I could hear Brooke going, “Ooooh, you’re going to have ten million baaaabies. Frank and Maren sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.” She even had a little dance to go with it. It involved a lot of booty shaking. James walked behind her and sighed. I think he felt we were bringing down his level of classiness.

  “They’re really immature, like ridiculously so, but my friends rock.” Friends. Plural. Brooke was right. I had changed. My grin was so big I thought my face might crack. I let Brooke continue her booty dance. She’d earned it.

  Author Biographies

  JAIME ADOFF is the author of The Song Shoots Out
of My Mouth, Names Will Never Hurt Me, Jimi & Me, The Death of Jayson Porter, and Small Fry. He has won numerous awards, including the Coretta Scott King/John Steptoe New Talent Author Award for Jimi & Me and the Lee Bennett Hopkins Poetry Award (Honor Book) for The Song Shoots Out of My Mouth. Jaime’s latest novel The Death of Jayson Porter won the 2010 Teen Buckeye Book Award, and received starred reviews in Booklist and VOYA Magazine. Jaime is a highly sought-after speaker, presenting across the country on teen issues, diversity, and YA literature and poetry. Jaime is the son of the late Newbery Award-winning author Virginia Hamilton and renowned poet Arnold Adoff. He lives in his hometown of Yellow Springs, Ohio, with his family. Visit jaimeadoff.com.

  RHODA BELLEZA is a freelance writer and editor based out of Brooklyn, New York.

  JOSH BERK is the author of The Dark Days of Hamburger Halpin, named a best book for teens of 2010 by Kirkus Reviews and Amazon.com. It was also awarded a Parent’s Choice Silver medal, a starred review from School Library Journal, and a “Perfect Ten” from VOYA. His second comedy/mystery teen novel is Guy Langman: Crime Scene Proscrastinator. He has previously been a journalist, a poet, a playwright, and a guitarist (mostly in bands known for things other than fine guitar-playing). He is a librarian and lives in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, with his family. Visit him on the web at www.joshberkbooks.com.

  JENNIFER BROWN is a two-time winner of the Erma Bombeck Global Humor Award. She wrote a weekly humor column for the Kansas City Star for over four years, until she gave it up to be a full-time young adult novelist. Jennifer’s debut novel, Hate List, received three starred reviews and was selected as an ALA Best Book for Young Adults, a VOYA “Perfect Ten,” and a School Library Journal Best Book of the Year. Jennifer’s second novel, Bitter End, received a starred review from Publishers Weekly. Jennifer writes and lives in the Kansas City, Missouri area, with her husband and three children.