Lizzie and the others said nothing, only smacking the ends of their pipes on the pavement again, now in unison. The clanking of steel against pavement echoed down the alley.
"That bitch is crazy," Hector said to Matt. "Let's get out of here!"
Matt and Hector whirled around and broke into a run, only to find the other end of the alley blocked by seven more girls approaching from their intended escape route. They skidded to a stop and glanced first one way, and then the other. Leading the group was Kit, brandishing her pipe with an angry look in her eyes.
Matt and Hector started to panic looking for a way out. They frantically tugged on locked steel doors, tried to jump up high enough to pull down a fire escape ladder, and pounded on doors, trying to get the attention of anyone inside. Mr. Chow briefly stuck his head out the rear door of his dry-cleaning shop, but quickly closed and locked it again, after appraising the scene.
Matt knew they were trapped, so he tried to act tough to see if they could bluff their way out.
"What's this all about Kit?" he said, recognizing her from all the times he had seen her hanging out with Alicia.
"Oh, I think you know!" Kit replied, with an angry look in her eyes.
"I don't know what that bitch told you, but we never touched her," Matt said, with rising panic.
"Now you girls are gonna get hurt,” Matt said, "so you just better forget all this and get outta here, before Hector and I lose our tempers!" he tried to convince them.
"Only two boys gonna git hurt today," Lizzie said, assured, her eyes narrowed menacingly.
Matt and Hector suddenly broke and ran toward Kit's end of the alley and tried to break through the smaller of the two groups. Kit's pipe found its mark and struck Matt across his left shin. The force of the blow spun him around and took him to the pavement. Hector met a similar fate and fell against a dumpster clutching at his leg. By this time, Lizzie's soldiers had caught up with them and the combined force of both groups descended upon the boys, pipes flailing, inflicting dozens of impacts. Blood erupted from Matt's forehead as a pipe end caught him across the face. Hector's nose flattened and squirted blood from each nostril. The next struck Matt's elbow, leaving a bleeding and broken wound in its place. Matt thought he felt his ribs breaking, and Hector's right ear doubled in size within moments of being struck.
"That's going to leave a mark," Lizzie laughed with a wild look in her eyes.
The steel pipe rained down on the boys, for what seemed to them, a very long time. Actually, less than thirty seconds had passed since the first blow was struck.
Suddenly, Kit stepped back and yelled, "Stop," she paused; all the girls turned to look at her. "We don't want to kill them; we just want to teach them a lesson."
"You sure about that Kit, I think everyone would be a lot better off if these two were dead and buried," Lizzie said, venting the hate and resentment she had for the pair.
"I didn't say we were through,” Kit replied, the vengeful look returning to her deceptively sweet angelic face.
"Take off their pants," Kit ordered.
The girls fell on the cowering boys, and multiple arms held them down, while hands unbuckled their baggy jeans and easily pulled them completely off.
"Boxers too," Kit added.
The girls whooped and hollered as they pulled off the boxers and twirled them around over their heads.
"Spread those leg's boys," Kit said,
Matt and Hector strained to resist. Matt briefly got one foot free and kicked outward wildly. His foot caught Lizzie in the side of her face. She shook off the blow and moved forward like an enraged bull. She kicked away Matt's free foot and caught him with a roundhouse right fist that smashed into his left jaw, leaving him stunned.
"You heard the girl," Lizzie said, "spread em!"
Hands and arms instantly moved, grabbing at the struggling boys, spreading their legs wide and keeping them from moving.
Kit knelt between the boys, who now had looks of total horror in their eyes. They begged; they pleaded. They cried like six-year olds.
"We didn't mean any harm,” Hector said, "We were just having a little fun with her."
"I don't believe Alicia was having fun," Kit snarled back, her face inches from Matt's.
Kit withdrew a butane cigar lighter from her pocket, flicked the striker and produced a long blue-hot flame. It had the loud jetted sound of a welding torch, and it scared the hell out of the boys. She slowly brought the lighter closer to Matt's groin.
"Not so tough now, are we?" Kit said, waving the flame under his private area. Matt felt the heat of the flame and tried to pull back from it. "Oops, think I burned a few of your curly ones off there,” she said, bringing her hand to her mouth in mock embarrassment.
"Nothing smells worse than burning hair," Kit joked, laughing, "Except maybe, burning wiener. How about it, girls? Should we have a weenie roast?"
Kit's laugh triggered laughter among all the girls holding the boys down.
"Burn that pecker off," Lizzie yelled.
"No, no, not that," Hector cried, then screamed, tears streaming down his cheeks.
"You hear that boys? I’d say you’re not too popular with these girls. They think you should lose those things of yours before you even get a chance to use them. So, what's it going to be, you two learn a valuable lesson today?" Kit asked in her most serious tone.
"Yeah, yeah, we won't bother anyone again!" both boys cried out, pleading.
"So, let's review- You ever touch my girl Alicia again; you will be missing more than a few pubes! Just in case you're thinking you'll wait until one of us is alone, and get back at us... think again! Anything happens to any of us; you'll be who we go after, and we won't be so sweet and nice next time!" Kit said, leaving no doubt about her resolve. They both knew that she meant it; and that she had the power and influence to back it up.
Kit rose, paused, then suddenly turned and slammed her pipe on the pavement an inch from Matt's privates, purposely missing to drive the point home. Matt’s whole body instinctively tensed, then flinched, as his eyes grew wide. The other girls picked up the boy's trousers and boxers, wadded them into a tight ball and threw them up on the fire escape.
As the girls walked away, Lizzie spoke to Kit, "Think they got the message Kit. Think they’ll tell someone?"
"Naw, that's not gonna happen. Believe me, the last thing they want anyone to know, is that they got their asses kicked by a bunch of girls," Kit said laughing.
Matt and Hector groaned and struggled to their feet as the last of the girls moved out of sight. Then it began to rain. The two boys made a futile attempt to jump for the fire escape ladder to retrieve their pants, but now, broken ribs and split-open shins made success even less likely. Hector was obsessing over a six-inch gash he now sported on his ankle. They both scrounged through the dumpster and found some scraps of wet cardboard. They also found some twine and tied the soggy cardboard around their waists to cover themselves for the walk home. Half way there they got detained by the beat cop, who, to make matters worse, asked them for I.D., even though he was well acquainted with the both of them.
He stopped the boys near an old derelict car and had them assume the position, with their feet spread wide and their hands on the hood.
"I guess there's not much point in searching you for weapons," he said, laughing.
Matt and Hector looked worried, realizing that the cardboard coverings they had fashioned were starting to fall apart as the rain continued to fall.
He thought about arresting them, for at least, indecent exposure, but figured they had been through enough for one day. He didn't know who had run them through the wringer, but his hat was definitely off to them. He returned his nightstick to its holster on his belt and directed them to go straight home. He knew that in their current state, there was little chance that they would be detouring for any reason.
Walking home, Kit thought about what she and her friends had done to Matt and Hector, wondered if there were a less dras
tic measure that she could have taken to help her friend. She thought people like Matt and Hector took what they wanted by force and would only understand force in return. They would not have responded to reason or any kind of negotiation; and to try to get help from the police, or any other adult authority, would be a sure sign of weakness. And the last thing you want to appear on the streets, is weak. She hadn't really wanted to hurt them, or for it to come down to a beating, but she knew that she could not stand by while they hurt her friend. Matt and Hector thought they were untouchable, and she knew then that she had chosen the lesser of two evils. Kit had been the voice of reason and mercy. If not for her, Matt and Hector's punishment could have been final and irrevocable. There were enough girls like Lizzie, in that alley, that had endured years of abuse, that Kit decided that the boys actually received a break. Yes, she thought; it could have been a lot worse!
Kit returned to the apartment and found Alicia where she had left her; curled up in a fetal position in the big chair. "Where did you go for so long," Alicia said.
"Let's just say, I don't think that Matt and Hector will be bothering you again anytime soon," Kit answered.
"What did you do?" Alicia asked, the beginning of a smile came to her face.
Kit left out no details telling Alicia about the lesson Matt and Hector had learned. The part that impressed Alicia the most, was the willingness of her friends to come to her defense. It made her happy to realize, that she had more friends, then she had ever imagined.
"You know Alicia said, now serious, "I talk brave and try to act tough and all that, but you; you're the tough one, you’re the bravest person I know!"
"Forget about it," Kit replied, embarrassed, "You'd do the same for me."
"Just the same, I'll never forget it!" Alicia said, jumping up from the chair and hugging her friend.
Alicia stayed over as planned and made Kit recount the story at least five times, each time laughing harder than the one before. Kit’s mom had to tell them to keep it down several times.
The next day they ran into Lizzie and the three of them ventured into Carducci's Comic Shop. They were unnerved as Old Man Carducci met them with a huge smile, the only warm greeting they had ever received from him.
"Girls, girls," he gushed, "how are you today?"
"What's going on?" Alicia leaned close to ask Kit. “Have you ever seen him smile before? It’s totally creeping me out!"
"Any comic book or magazine for each of you... is on the house,” Carducci said.
"Huh?" they both said.
Mr. Carducci ushered the girls back to the expensive graphic novels' section.
"Anything you want," he repeated, waving his hand at the racks, "those boys have been robbing me blind for years," Carducci said.
"Guess the word's out," Alicia whispered to Kit, as they began to comprehend the reason for the shopkeeper's sudden change of attitude, and the out-of-character generosity toward them.
The scene similarly repeated itself with the fruit stand owner and several other shops the girls walked past. Word traveled fast in the streets, and by now, everyone knew who was responsible for the two boy’s absence from their usual routine of tormenting the innocent.
Chapter 7 - Hail the Heros
Kit met Alicia, Gwen and Lizzie at the bus stop and soon boarded the bus to school. Their little altercation with Matt and Hector was the talk of all the kids on the bus. After a while, she wished that they would just drop it because she was becoming a little uncomfortable with the notoriety she was getting.
It was the same as they walked down the halls at school. It was starting to get a little embarrassing, as kid after kid, gave her a friendly slap on the back, or a "high five," in praise of her being the architect of Matt and Hector's humiliation. She was grateful as she settled into her first-period class, and all the attention started to die down.
"How are things at home?" Kit asked Alicia.
"Wow, totally different," Alicia replied happily.
"Matt actually knocked on my door and offered to take out the garbage. That's usually my job, and he knows how much I hate doing it. Then he told me he was sorry, and that he would never be mean to me again. I believe he actually meant it." Alicia said.
"That's cool," Kit said.
"He told his Dad that he and Hector were fooling around at the junkyard and fell off a car, to explain his cuts and bruises. I'm not sure his Dad bought it, cuz he was pretty messed up,” Alicia laughed.
Mr. Conley was Kit's English teacher and, in her opinion, a contender for the most boring speaker alive- if, in fact, he was alive. It was all that Kit could do to stay awake in his class.
Even his appearance was boring. Those crisply pressed slacks and the long sleeve white shirts, the funny little bow ties, that crew-cut hairstyle, and his tan sports jacket with suede patches sewn on the elbows, always neatly slung on the back of his chair. The worst was his coke-bottle glasses with huge black frames. But then no, Kit thought; the worst was his always reeking of Old Spice. The aroma filled the classroom. It seemed as though he must have bathed in the stuff.
To pass the time, Kit would often draw on a piece of notebook paper. Kit loved the graphic novels and worked at perfecting her drawing skills to match, or exceed, those of the best artists in her magazines.
During a pop quiz, Mr. Conley passed by Kit's desk and picked up her drawing, eyeing it critically. Normally, he would take the students drawings or doodling's, crumple them up in a ball and toss them like a basketball player at the wastebasket next to his desk. Each time the crumpled ball made it in, he would say, "Yes! Two points!" and pump his fist in the air. This time though, he neatly placed Kit's drawing back on her desk and said, "Nice drawing Kit, perhaps you should consider a career in art." She wondered if he was being sincere, or if he too, had an axe to grind with Matt and Hector. "Heck," she thought, "the whole world didn't have it in for those two; did they?"
The rest of the day settled back into the familiar routine, except for her last period art class. She was glad that it came at the end of the day. No matter how lousy the first part of her day had been, she could always rely on Mrs. Shay to salvage the rest of it.
Mrs. Shay was pretty, young, and filled with energy. She talked about art and artists with a genuine passion. She truly loved her job and the kids she taught. So many other teachers were obvious in their dislike of teaching, and the kids they taught. Those were the teachers who just put in their time until retirement. Sadly, it seemed they outnumbered the Mrs. Shay's, by at least, ten-to-one.
In everyone's life there is that one teacher who truly tries to make a difference and encourages and inspires kids. Mrs. Shay was that teacher, and Kit loved her for it. She had seen the potential in Kit's drawings as well, and worked to make sure that her natural ability would be nurtured and encouraged.
"Okay class, I have an announcement to make," Mrs. Shay began. "I'm passing out permission slips for a field trip to the Metropolitan Museum of Art on the eighteenth of the month. I expect all of you to bring your artist’s sketchpads and pencils with you and be prepared to draw your favorite works while we are there. Kit, that means you, especially," she said. "This field trip is intended to inspire all of you by showing you what can be achieved if you apply yourselves."
As the final bell rang and the class started to file out, Kit approached Mrs. Shay's desk.
"Oh Kit, something I can do for you?" She asked.
"I was just wondering why you always kind of single me out when you're talking to the class. It's a little embarrassing." Kit replied.
"Kit, I'll tell you why. I have taught art to hundreds of Kids, and the majority will never do anything more creative then a paint-by-number painting or a rough sketch on the back of a shopping list. You, on the other hand, are that one-in-a-million kid who has so much artistic talent whom it would be a crime if you did not pursue art as a career. I'm serious when I tell you that it would be a loss for everyone," Mrs. Shay said.
"But I'm just a kid fr
om the streets, what chance do I have to become some famous artist." Kit asked.
"Fame aside, do it for the love of the art. I could sit here and tell you stories of all the famous artists who lived in poverty, lacked the support of their loved ones, or even died in obscurity and weren't appreciated for their genius until well after they died. Most did not create art for money; they created art because they didn't have a choice. They created art because their souls ached with the need to express themselves through their art."
"No Kit, do it because it is one of the purest forms of expression there is, do it because you have the gift. Don't let where you come from, discourage you. If you decide that it's what you want to do, I'll help you find the scholarships to go after it. Finally, do it because I would get a tremendous amount of satisfaction in knowing that I could help you to achieve your dreams. You know, that's what good teachers live for." Mrs. Shay said.
Kit finally left Mrs. Shay's classroom and found Alicia waiting for her in the hall.
"What took you so long?" Alicia asked.
"Sorry, you know how emotional she gets when she talks about art," Kit replied.
"Yeah, it's kind of sad," Alicia said, sounding serious, "Her husband must not pay much attention to her," Alicia said, then laughed.
"Yeah, I guess," Kit agreed, and laughed with her.
Chapter 8 - New Friends
Julia arrived at the gallery and took out the keys to the front door. Seeing someone already inside, she tried the door. It was already unlocked.
"Caroline, what are you doing here?" Julia asked.
"Oh, I was just in the neighborhood on my way to my baby shower and thought I'd stop by to show you where a few things are." Caroline replied.
"It's supposed to be a big surprise, but my friend, Joan, kinda slipped and spilled the news early. Hope I can act surprised enough to be convincing," she added.
"You know, you needn't have bothered; I'm sure I can find everything," Julia said.
The Ghost Locket Page 4