Play at Soul's Edge

by Sophia Amador

  Homework was useless anyway. Still, the stupid grades mattered. He heaved Pete higher up on his back and increased his pace. Maybe if he was super-efficient today he could get it done.

  He shook his head. Who was he kidding? He was going to be working in the clinic all night.

  Pete whimpered a little. Ben scowled.

  The Lancaster Free Clinic operated out of a ramshackle old house squeezed between two high-rise apartment buildings. Ben struggled up the chipped cement steps. Pete might have appeared skinny, but he was heavier than he looked. Ben got him into one of the examination rooms and went to find his father.

  Dr. Lancaster examined the boy, who hadn’t regained consciousness. “Looks like a narcotics overdose. I need to take a blood sample, but I’m pretty sure I know what he’s on.” He adjusted the IV. “There’s a new drug out on the streets. I’ve been seeing more cases lately. I don’t know much about it, but I treated a kid who said it makes you feel like everything you wish for will come true.” He smoothed back Pete’s dark hair, lying in matted tufts on the pillow. “But an overdose can cause mental regression, brain damage. Childish behavior.”

  “Can you help him?” asked Ben.

  His father shrugged. “I don’t know. Sometimes they behave normally for a while, then have flashbacks and think they’re children again.” He replaced his stethoscope in the breast pocket of his lab coat. “The drug’s more addictive than heroin. Only takes maybe two, three doses before you’re hooked.”

  “Aren’t the cops doing anything?”

  “I’m sure, but from what I hear, no one even knows where it’s manufactured, or how it’s being smuggled into the country.”

  Ben clenched his fists. “I’ve got a good idea who’s mixed up in it.” He imagined himself planting a fist in Mario Fonseca’s grinning face. He could practically hear the satisfying crunch of bone.

  “Son, you shouldn’t get involved. Leave it to the police.”

  “Right, Dad. While more cases like this happen.” The least he could do was beat the hell out of the bastard he knew was dealing drugs, along with the rest of his scummy friends. That might end up being the only way he could make a difference.

  Mario

  The droning voice of Chief Keef’s latest rap single battered the crowd at the private lounge at headquarters and rammed into the gaps between shouted conversations. Bodies writhed and bumped in the smoky air.

  Mario Fonseca leaned against a wall, a can of beer in one hand and a careless half-smirk on his face. His gaze flicked from one group to another, and then to the shadows at the end of the room, where the Captain lounged in an armchair on a raised platform overlooking the hall. Gloom obscured his face, but that didn’t stop the half-nervous, half-admiring glances from his audience. A crowd clustered around his feet. Beside the armchair, a tall, thin kid with straight black hair bent close to the shadowy figure’s ear, then slipped into the crowd. Rory Fong. Mario straightened, noting where he had disappeared to.

  “Lonnie,” he said in a low voice, “go check up on Rory.”

  Lonnie wiped his nose, sniffed, and licked the back of his hand. “Do I hafta?”

  “Look, dipshit, you’re the one begging to get in. I don’t give a fuck whether you—or anyone—just get ganked. Now, you in or out, you lazy motherfucker?”

  Muttering to himself, Lonnie skulked away.

  Mario took a swig of his beer and shook his head. It was important to keep tabs on Rory. The Captain’s second-in-command was sneaky and seemed to know everything. Wherever he went, you knew the Captain had an interest, and Rory had been heading out on more errands lately. Something must be going down.

  Mario chugged the rest of the beer, scanning the room. In the center of the dance floor, perched on six-inch rose-colored heels, he spotted Kim Lugo. A pert ass in a tiny pleated coral skirt waggled and twisted above her slim legs, and he found himself staring at the smooth skin between her thighs, wondering if the skirt would wiggle out of the way during one of her turns. He imagined himself sliding a hand inside the shimmering fabric to cup the warm flesh beneath.

  Kim stopped dancing, and Mario raised his eyes to her face. The metal spike in her nose quivered as she stared, pale brows drawn together, at the man in the armchair. The Captain spoke briefly to his entourage, then glided to his feet. A statuesque blonde at his side extended a hand, and he stroked her hand with long fingers. The two slipped out a door behind the chair.

  Two red spots blossomed on Kim’s cheeks. She lifted a glass of golden liquid to her lips and tossed it back, her frizzy platinum ponytails trembling. A few drops fell from the glass and rolled into the chains dangling between her full breasts.

  “Hey, Kim!” Mario’s deep voice rose over the noise of the crowd. He grinned and patted the couch beside him. Kim tossed her hair. He tipped his head to one side and mimed lighting a pipe. She hesitated, threw one glance over her shoulder at the empty armchair, then shrugged and strutted over, the pleated skirt wiggling back and forth.

  “What th’ fuck you want, Mario?” She collapsed onto the couch.

  “Is it wrong to wanna spend time with a pretty girl?” He put a hand on her thigh, slipping a finger underneath her skirt.

  She slapped it away. “Keep your hands off,” she warned. “Where’s your shit?”

  Laughing, he lit the pipe and handed it to her. She closed her eyes and took a long drag. She had big lungs for such a tiny girl.

  Mario said, “I saw what happened. That bitch Tina chasing after the Captain?”

  “You think I give a fuck?”

  He held out his hands defensively. “Hey, I just thought you might wanna make it with a guy who appreciates you. Someone who thinks you’re really hot.”

  “Fuck that,” she said, her voice hard.

  He shrugged. They passed the pipe back and forth in silence for a few minutes and she slumped lower in the seat, her legs falling apart. Her lowered lashes grew damp.

  He leaned into her and teased at her skirt again, his fingers caressing the warmth between her thighs. This time she didn’t slap his hand away, but writhed slowly, her eyes still closed. He placed his palm on her belly, then slid it lower, and she half-arched, baring her throat. A moan escaped her lips. He grabbed her head and slammed their mouths together.

  She tasted of Jack Daniels and smoke. He yanked at the metal ring on the zipper of her pink leather vest, exposing more of her large, soft breasts. Her head fell back, and she groaned. Breathing heavily, he squeezed her breasts hard. They were soft under his hands, and the contrast between his dark, calloused skin and the pale, yielding flesh under his fingers made his jeans far too tight.

  He could smell sweat, perfume, and alcohol wafting from her skin, and it aroused him. He pulled her closer.

  She sat up so suddenly the top of her head banged into his chin. “Fuck you, Mario! I’m not putting out for you!” She stood, zipped up her vest and flounced away.

  He watched the rhythmic swing of her hips until she disappeared in the crowd.

  Fucking bitch thought she was too good for him. She’d change her tune soon enough. They all would. Maybe no one knew yet what was going down, but everything was about to change at Rockton High.

  Keisha

  Keisha Huston strode through the Rockton Eleventh Precinct bullpen to Captain Truong’s office. She tugged at her sweat-soaked uniform collar. The emergency call had come at the end of a double shift, and she was exhausted. Overhead fans spun in the late afternoon sun, disturbing clouds of dust motes that winked in the humid air. They had been supposed to get air conditioning for the office, but budget cuts had delayed the installation.

  Keisha knocked on the captain’s door. She scowled when she saw Vince Devore sitting in one of Truong’s straight-backed chairs. He’d shaved off his beard: a bad sign. Even at twenty-five, Vince could pass for a middle-school student with his short stature and face like a twelve-year-old’s carved out of fine mahogany. Vince was also one of the best martial artists she knew. If he’d been
called from outside the precinct, it was going to be a rough assignment.

  Truong’s office was crammed with gunmetal-gray file cabinets. Drawers hung half-open and files were balanced sideways on top of each. Against the back wall, an ancient radiator dripped rusty liquid onto the utilitarian green linoleum.

  Truong’s eyes twinkled at Keisha. How he managed to keep his air of sunny benevolence in a district ravaged by cutbacks and rumored corruption was one of life’s enduring mysteries, but she wouldn’t complain. You couldn’t ask for a better boss.

  “Thanks so much for coming, Officer Huston. I know you’re on overtime, so I’ll make this brief. I’m sure you’ve heard about the new drug that’s flooding the streets. We just got a report today of an overdose at Rockton High. We have intel that a high school gang may be involved, so I want you two to go undercover.”

  Keisha groaned inwardly. Not again. Just because she only stood four foot ten, she always got the “infiltrate the high school” assignments.

  Vince grinned. “Another canceled undercover police program revamped for modern times? Precinct Eleven ain’t got no creativity.”

  Keisha rolled her eyes. “Good to see you again too, Devore.”

  He wagged his finger at Truong. “I’m only working with this skinny-ass bitch if you swear to me on a stack of Bibles she got rid of her cats.”

  Keisha bristled. “What’ve you got against cats? They’re smarter, prettier, and better with a weapon than most babyface cops I know.”

  Truong smiled. “Glad to see you two still have a great working relationship. You’re going to need it. This is going to be a tough one. Rockton High seems to be the latest source of this shit. They call it ‘Rapture’ or ‘slip’ and it’s bad. Crime’s up by over seventy percent in the affected areas; emergency rooms are overflowing.” He pushed a report across his desk. “Read it and weep.”

  Vince folded his arms. “Guess that’s why you’re sending in the big boys.” He shot a glance at Keisha. “And, uh, cats.”

  Elisa

  Elisa peeked over the edge of her math book. Tangled brown bangs flopped over Adrian’s nerdy glasses as he concentrated on a problem on the other side of the classroom.

  When he’d been elected class president, people had been shocked. She’d heard the jealous whispers. “The principal stuffed the ballot box because he didn’t want someone with more suspensions than honors credits to win.”

  But she hadn’t been surprised. Despite being quiet, Adrian always seemed to be surrounded by a crowd. When he did speak in class, a silence followed his words, as though no one wanted to disrespect him with an interruption. She’d never seen anyone so competitive, so driven to win at any cost.

  She and Adrian had competed for the top spot in honors math ever since she could remember. Boys sometimes got upset when she outscored them in math and science, since girls weren’t supposed to do that. Not Adrian. He had always been outwardly polite, but… there was something she couldn’t put her finger on. Last year, he had hated it when the two of them both got perfect math scores all year. He actually told the teacher that she needed to make the tests harder. Elisa was pretty good at math, despite being clueless in other areas. When she kept up even with the more challenging tests, Adrian seemed to brood.

  His mood didn’t change until the end of the year, when she broke her arm just before the final, and had to take a make-up test without the opportunity for extra credit. It allowed Adrian to secure the top spot. She remembered his face at the end-of-school ceremony. He had flashed her the oddest expression of, well, glee. But how could that be? No one could have predicted the strange events that culminated in her falling off that ladder in the gym.

  As if he’d become aware of her thoughts, Adrian raised his head and met her eyes across the classroom. His eyes crinkled at the corners. She reddened and bent to her work.

  It was all Sumiko’s fault. When she got an idea in her head, she wouldn’t let go until she’d pounded it into everyone else’s.

  After class, Adrian fell into step beside Elisa. He flashed her a shy smile. “May I ask you something?”

  Her shoulders tensed, but she nodded.

  “I was wondering if you’d like to get together after school to study. I’ve been looking for a homework partner in math.”

  She was unable to hide her disbelief. “I can’t imagine how I could help you.”

  “I think we could learn from each other.” His voice was polite, even gracious.

  She muttered, “Maybe some other time.”

  He held her gaze a moment too long before walking away. She caught herself staring at his back.

  No. No way. It wasn’t like he appealed to her the same way Ben did.

  Although her unrequited crush was getting old. And let’s face it, she wanted to go out with someone. After all those years under her mother’s unrelenting rules, now was her chance. It might not be so bad to date someone quiet and well-behaved. Her big brother would have approved. He had taken her aside one day before he left and wagged a finger in her face.

  “Don’t end up like your mother, pregnant before she got out of high school. I want you only to date polite boys, you hear?” He glared down at her, obviously trying to appear imposing and mature. He was six years older than her and she adored him, but in those days she had been too busy trying to make sure he didn’t know it.

  She scoffed. “Carlos, I’m only eleven. I’m not planning on dating any time soon.”

  “You never know, with all the lowlifes around here. Even better, you should wait till you get married before you sleep with anyone.”

  “Sleep with—what? Carlos!” She giggled, rolling her eyes. “What are you talking about?”

  “If I were the one taking care of my little sister, I’d want to make sure you have a good life.”

  She laughed and hugged him. “How can I go wrong when I have you?”

  He scowled. “Are you listening to me? What if I’m not around?”

  “You’ll always be around!”

  “Just be good, okay?”

  “I’m always good, Carlos.”

  Elisa blinked away tears. She still missed him. He was the only person who’d ever really loved her. Her mother didn’t have any love left in her. She’d been raised Catholic, had rebelled violently in high school and gone so far as to turn a few tricks. Her parents had kicked her out on the street. She’d gotten pregnant with Carlos at sixteen, but then had found Jesus and become extremely religious—the harsh, fire-and-brimstone kind of religion. She’d beaten Elisa with a strap when she wasn’t obedient. Carlos had shielded her from the worst of it, but when he left it got brutal. Elisa hadn’t been allowed even to date until she turned sixteen. Kind of ridiculous in this day and age, but what could she do? At least now her mother was gone most of the time at religious retreats.

  Elisa didn’t want to make Carlos unhappy, even if he wasn’t around to see what she did.

  She shook her head and rushed off to her locker. It was no good being sad about Carlos. Besides, she had happier things to think about—she was going to learn a new job at the bakery that afternoon. Mrs. Rojas was going to let her roll out the filo dough. She could already smell the sugar-scented air in the big kitchen, feel the cool, soft flour-and-butter mixture under her fingertips.

  Sumiko was waiting at her locker. “I saw Adrian speaking to you upstairs. What did he want?”

  “Nothing,” she said, twirling her combination lock. No way would she give in to Sumiko’s ridiculous plans. “He wanted to do some homework together, and I said no. He certainly doesn’t need any help since he’s the top student in the school.”

  Sumiko put her hands on her hips. “You said no?”

  Elisa decided the best defense was to babble. “I mean, if he wanted to learn how to cook, I know something about that, and I could show him some of the dishes I’ve made—”

  “You idiot!” interrupted Sumiko. “He was asking you out, not trying to get help on his homework!”

>   “It’s not like he asked me to a movie!”

  Sumiko’s face was stern. “Next time,” she said, “you say yes, understood?”

  Elisa bit her lip. Maybe she’d missed her chance. Adrian was awfully cute, and maybe she’d hurt his feelings. She wouldn’t reject him next time, especially since it would keep Sumiko off her case.

  Of course, it took a while until Adrian asked her out again.

  Later that week, he approached her at her locker, arms full of books. He’d said more to her in the past couple of days than he had in their entire high school career. Was he up to something? Or was it Sumiko? “You like acting, right? Ms. Littleton wants to start a drama club. She’s asked me to be president, and I was wondering if you’d be interested.”

  A drama club? Now that was bizarre. “What would we do?”

  Adrian stepped closer. He was much taller than her, and his skin was smooth, stretched taut over high cheekbones, long and abundant lashes encircling dark brown eyes. “She just got a grant from some foundation or other, and it’s not enough money to actually produce any plays, but she thought we could read a few together, and maybe attend one or two at the Third Avenue Theater.”

  He was standing so near she could feel the heat of his body. She usually tried not to pay attention to looks, but when he stood this close it was obvious he was built, in a sleek, understated sort of way. He smelled good, too. And those dark eyes were what romance writers would call “liquid-center chocolate”—simply delicious.

  She licked her lips. After all, Ben wasn’t interested. Anyway, she had to follow Sumiko’s advice before she got even more annoyed. Next time she might arrange for something truly weird, like a date at a shooting range or something. “Sure! It sounds… very educational. Should I bake brownies or something?”

  He smiled at her, and she imagined a whole bowlful of warm, melted chocolate batter. “Awesome. And brownies would be delicious.” He slid a book out of his stack and flipped it open. “I found a book of Shakespeare plays. Would you like to try a dramatic reading of Othello tomorrow after school?”