Summer on the Moon

by Adrian Fogelin

  Meat’s head pivoted slowly. “Well. Look who’s here.” Rapp made a point of not noticing him. The others took their cue from the gang leader. Still, Socko could feel it. They were on alert.

  Rapp continued to lean against the wall, but one hand slid into the baggy pocket where he kept his knife. Socko’s legs began to shake, remembering the last time he’d crossed Rapp.

  He had to concentrate on his friend. This was his one chance to figure out what was going on. “Damien?”

  No response.

  The Damien Socko knew moved like a scribble, fast and all over the place. But now, surrounded by the gang, Damien even blinked slow. And it wasn’t just his face that was playing dead. He was barely moving, like he was in a trance.

  But Socko had seen the smile. Damien hadn’t faked that. “Can I talk to you a minute?” he asked.

  Rapp and Meat shifted against the wall, framing Damien even tighter. Rapp’s hand emerged from his pocket. He flipped the knife in the air. It landed on his palm with a soft slap.

  Socko was shaking, but he kept at it. “It won’t take long, just a couple minutes. It’s nothing to do with you guys.”

  “What you say to one brother you say to all,” Rapp said. Two guys Socko didn’t know pushed away from the wall. Redeploying, they took up positions behind Socko on the sidewalk.

  “It’s cool, Rapp.” Socko held out his empty hands. “I just wanna talk to Damien.”

  “Give it up, man.” Meat’s voice sounded almost kind.

  Socko knew that it was time to go. Past time. “Let him walk to the corner with me. You guys can watch,” he babbled, “I just want to talk to my friend for two minutes. Just two minutes.”

  Rapp swung his elbow and nudged Damien. “How ’bout it? You wanna take a walk with your little friend?”

  Damien barely shrugged. “Guess I’m fine right here.”

  “That’s it then. Conversation over.” Rapp smiled at Socko. “You heard Lil’ D.”

  A bead of cold sweat ran down Socko’s spine, but he didn’t move.

  “Something wrong with your hearing?” This time Meat didn’t sound so friendly.

  Socko felt the two guys behind him step closer. He kept his eyes on the convenience store’s plate glass window, hoping to use it as a mirror to show him what was going on behind him. What caught his eye instead was Mr. Donatelli lurking between two racks of chips, watching the scene on the sidewalk. Despite the audience, Socko knew he was on his own. Whatever happened next, the store owner would swear he hadn’t seen a thing.

  Socko concentrated on the images reflected on the glass. In the background was the empty street, three parking meters. He saw himself and the two guys, who now stood so close behind him he could hear their open-mouth breathing.

  Something was about to snap; Socko could feel it.

  His reflected view of the street blurred, and the side of a truck hid the street. Although the words read backwards on the glass, he still recognized them: Holmes Homes.

  “Hey!” Luke’s voice was strong.

  When Socko whipped around, Luke was standing in the open driver’s door of the truck, his muscular arms resting on the roof of the cab. “You ready?” He looked past Socko. “Hey … Damien?”

  Damien put a hand on his chest. “You talkin’ to me?”

  “Yeah. How about if you ride along with us?”

  Socko watched Luke’s face for Damien’s answer.

  Luke nodded once. “Okay. Suit yourself. Let’s go, Socko.”

  Socko stumbled past the two guys nearest the street and fell into the passenger seat. Although the confrontation was over, he could barely walk. Safe inside the truck, he looked back at Damien as they pulled away from the curb. Just like last time, he was leaving his friend behind.

  “You all right?” asked Luke.

  “Fine.” Socko took a deep breath and fastened his seatbelt. “That was a quick half hour.”

  “I got a few blocks away, then something told me I’d better swing back. Sometimes these neighborhood punks can be just as dangerous as a real gang.”

  “Thanks.” Rescued again. Rescued every time.

  His mind went to Moon Ridge, where he acted all tough in front of Livvy. What a joke. He might “fit the description,” but he was gutless. Livvy would have stood up to the Tarantulas better than he had.

  Collapsed against the truck door, Socko listened to the tires grumble over the cracked tar.

  Maybe Damien was getting by the only way he could. But Socko clung to the fact that the goofy grin his friend had given him when Rapp and the others were out of the picture was real. Damien lived.

  The first of Mr. Holmes’s errands involved picking up an envelope from a glass office building. Socko sat in the double-parked truck while Luke dashed inside. If he had been dropped on this street, Socko wouldn’t have known where he was. Could this be the same city? All the men going in and out of the building wore suits and ties; the women were dressed like Livvy’s mom.

  What had almost gone down in front of Donatelli’s could never happen here.

  Suddenly Socko understood. The old neighborhood wasn’t the whole world. It was just a box—a really small one. But Damien didn’t know that.

  He’d never been outside the box.

  The old man was sitting ramrod straight in his wheelchair when Socko came through the door. “What in the Sam Hill took you so long?” the General demanded. “Did you get in the way of any more punches?”

  “No, sir.”

  The single eye looked Socko up and down. “Your front looks okay. Any damage on the back?”

  “No, sir.” Knowing the General would demand proof, Socko turned in place.

  “I’ve been on high alert ever since you left, which made listening to Eddie Corrigan’s babble even more annoying than usual. I kept wondering what I would tell Delia Marie if you went and got yourself killed.”

  “Thanks for the confidence.”

  The General drummed his fingers on the arms of the wheelchair. “Report on the mission.”

  “Mission not accomplished.” Socko put his foot on the bottom step of the staircase.

  “Halt.”

  Socko let his head drop back and stared at the ceiling. All he wanted to do right now was go to his room and close the door. He did not want to play soldiers.

  “Would you just tell me what happened, son?”

  Socko turned and sank down on the step. Keeping it simple, he told the General the basic story, thinking as he explained it of a dozen better, braver things he could have done. The General listened in stony silence.

  “And that’s about it, sir. Can I go to my room now?”

  “Idiot!” the old man snapped.

  “I am not an idiot!” Socko snapped back. “I … I couldn’t think of what to do. I wimped, okay? I couldn’t think at all … those guys—”

  “You’re not the durn-fool idiot, Socko. I am! I should never have let you go back there. Anything could have happened. And your mission most definitely is accomplished. You are never ever to go back there again. Compree?”

  “Compree.” Socko knew that saying he understood was the only way to get the General to say, “Dismissed!”

  But understanding and obeying were two different things.

  32

  FAREWELL PHAT

  Why didn’t you take me with you?” Livvy asked. They were riding in the back of the truck along with dozens of flowering annuals in plastic pots.

  “It was kind of spur-of-the-moment. And anyway, you were at the dentist.” He hadn’t planned to tell Livvy about his visit to the old neighborhood, but who else could he talk to about it?

  Now that he’d told her what had happened, she sat in silence. Socko figured she was still mad at him, but then she stretched out a leg and touched his foot with hers. “I know it didn’t work out, but what you did yesterday was really brave. You’re a stand-up guy, Socko.”

  Despite all her rich-girl weirdness he was starting to like her, at least as a friend
—and maybe as a girl of the opposite sex. And even though it was just sneaker to sneaker, not skin to skin, her foot was touching his. So maybe she liked him too.

  But if she did like him, it was only because she didn’t know the real him. He pulled his foot away. “I’m not who you think,” he said.

  “You’re not Socko Starr?” she joked.

  “I’m not brave. Sure, I’m big, but I’m harmless. A leaf-eater.” He told her about the scene with Rapp on the roof—the primo example of how brave he wasn’t. “Junebug saved Damien, not me. I was too scared.”

  She paused. “Were you scared yesterday?”

  He stared past her. “What do you think?”

  “But you did it anyway. Being scared was smart. Doing what you did even though you were scared? That was brave.”

  “Like it did any good.” But he felt a little better. Not about Damien, but about himself. Maybe he wasn’t the biggest wuss that ever lived.

  Maybe just the second or third.

  Riding in the back of the truck after a day of hard labor, surrounded by a sloshing sea of empty plastic pots, Socko stared at his hands. In the last few days he had planted so many bushes, trees, and annuals that his fingertips were cracked. Both he and Livvy had pink, peeling sunburns.

  Watching the parade of vacant houses go by, Livvy looked as worried as he felt. “Hear this, Universe!” she announced. “I don’t want anything for my birthday or Christmas. I just want people to buy houses here at Moon Ridge.”

  “They will,” he said, but he didn’t believe it. Why should things start going right all of a sudden? Moon Ridge would go bust and Livvy would disappear just like Damien.

  Socko needed a shower, but when he got home he felt too tired to haul himself up the stairs. Instead, he fell onto the sofa and stared at the ceiling.

  His view of the ceiling was eclipsed. A wrinkled face hovered over him. “What’re you doing, Socko, worrying about Damien again?” The old man didn’t wait for an answer. “Worrying never solved a thing. You either fix the problem or you forget about it. You tried to fix it yesterday, but it couldn’t be fixed. It’s time to forget it and move on.” He turned the wheelchair toward the kitchen.

  “What if I can’t forget it?”

  The wheelchair turned slowly back his way. “You have to. It’s time to cut your losses, private. Damien is collateral damage.”

  Socko pushed himself up on his elbows. “What’s collateral damage?”

  “The unintended damage caused by an action. You moved out of the neighborhood and Damien joined the gang. End of story, so forget about it.” The General wheeled his chair into the kitchen.

  “Not gonna happen,” Socko mumbled. He was an elephant when it came to not forgetting.

  Socko was still splat-flat on the couch when Delia came waltzing in from work an hour late. “Big news!” Her face was flushed.

  Socko turned his eyes her way, too tired to do more. He hadn’t even noticed she was late. Between worrying about Damien and the collapse of Moon Ridge, he was way overscheduled in the worry department.

  “Didn’t anyone hear me? I said big news,” Delia repeated, enunciating carefully.

  “So spill it, Delia Marie,” demanded the General.

  Delia folded her arms on top of her stomach. “Guess!”

  “I’m not dead yet?” the General ventured.

  “Bigger! I overheard a guy in the Home Depot say the day manager at the fast-food place next door got caught helping himself to money out of the cash drawer.”

  The General raised his bushy brows. “A clerk with sticky fingers, that’s your big news?”

  “They fired him—which he deserved—and just like that, no more day manager! I walked myself across the parking lot and told them I was there about the job.”

  Socko sat up fast. “Why?”

  “Why? Don’t be a doof! Because I need a new job.”

  Socko had never thought about her leaving the Phat. Didn’t she always call it her place? “Did you get the job?”

  But Delia was spinning the story out, making it last. “The manager looked me over and right away, the usual came up.”

  “Which is?” the General quizzed.

  Delia spread her arms. “Let’s just call it my full figure. I dropped the word ‘discrimination,’ and the temporary day manager got the regional manager, a little bitty thing named Nikki. My manager, Paul, would have said, ‘So, sue me,’ but Nikki folded fast. They’re not very tough out here.”

  The General was wearing one of his rare smiles. “But you sure are!”

  “I take after you, old man.”

  “You got that right, big girl.” They both grinned.

  “So,” she said, “long story short, I start next week.”

  “But … you can’t!” said Socko. “What about Damien and Junebug?”

  “Damien …” She waved a hand. “There’s no talking to him anymore. And Junebug? Before I leave, she’s dumping Rapp. I’ll make sure of that if it’s the last thing I do. Without that loser she’ll be okay.”

  “Get real, Mom. If she dumps Rapp she’ll need her own witness protection program! You will too. He’ll know you made her do it.”

  “If he does, so what? I’ll be long gone. Junebug’s a big girl, Socko. She can do this thing. She’ll be fine.”

  “No she won’t. She’ll be dead.”

  Socko stormed up to his room and fell onto his cot. He was mad—and something else. Relieved? With the connection broken, he couldn’t be responsible for Damien. He could concentrate on the life he had here.

  But what kind of guy tosses away a friend like a burger wrapper?

  If only yesterday had gone down different! What would have happened if Rapp and his boys hadn’t come out of Donatelli’s? Would Damien have climbed into the truck? Would he be here now? Socko couldn’t let go until he found out. Luke would never take him to the old neighborhood again, but what if he drove himself back to the Kludge? He knew the fundamentals of driving. He could feel his heart beating hard in his chest, but he had to find a way to do it. He had to be the stand-up guy Livvy thought he was.

  He had barely begun to plan how and when to sneak off in the car when he heard a faint knock on his door.

  “Socko, can I come in?” Delia didn’t wait for an answer. She walked in and stood over his cot. “I have something for you.”

  The blue envelope she put in his hand was from the electric company. It was addressed to Louise Rivera. Socko turned the envelope over. On the back was a mess of Scotch tape and the words: FOR SOCKO STARR ONLY. He looked up at his mother.

  “No,” she said. “I didn’t read it. But if Damien asks you to do something stupid, you say no. I didn’t have to give this to you, but I trust you, Socko.” She made a big point of closing the door behind her when she left.

  He wished she hadn’t said she trusted him, because this had to be the word he’d been waiting for from Damien, saying to come get him. He tore open the envelope.

  The Riveras had a past-due balance of four hundred and thirty-seven dollars—by now their lights had been cut off for sure—but that couldn’t be his friend’s message. He turned the bill over. Damien’s note was scrawled on the back.

  Socko—thanks for coming back but this is the way it is now. I owe Rapp and the guys. Mom’s boyfriend sent her to the ER a couple times and I couldn’t do nothing. Rapp and Meat made it so he won’t bother her no more. The gang’s not bad like we thought. I got brothers now and plenty 2 eat. Don’t show up or try to call. If you were still here it would be different. But I gotta think about now.

  Lil’ D

  PS: Tell your mom to quit messing with Rapp’s GF. The message on the car means bizness.

  Socko stumbled to the window. Rapp’s message was tagged on the front passenger door, black and heavy. The blast of paint had been so strong it had run under the stencil and dripped down the car door. The tarantula was oozing black blood.

  “Mom?” He took the stairs two at a time. He had to m
ake Delia promise to forget about breaking up Rapp and Junebug.

  But his mother refused to take the threat seriously. “Once I change jobs, how’s Rapp gonna find me?” Like the General, she told Socko to forget about it.

  Later, lying in the dark, his elephant brain worked overtime wondering what Rapp had done to Louise’s boyfriend, afraid it would happen to Delia when she got between Rapp and Junebug—because that was just what she meant to do.

  33

  LAST ORDERS

  Delia pinned her paper hat to her hair. “How do I look?”

  Socko shrugged. Her orange and brown smock and slacks were as clean—and as ugly—as they were at the start of any workday.

  “Did you notice? New lipstick for my last day!”

  Considering all that might happen today, he couldn’t believe she was hung up on lipstick. He’d showed her the spider on her car door. She’d covered it with a blast of spray paint of her own and gone right on saying she’d make sure Junebug dumped Rapp.

  “Mom, about—”

  “Last orders?” she called to the General as he rolled out of the bathroom. “How about a Crispy Fried Salad?” she teased.

  “I wouldn’t serve that barf to a dog! But I’ll take a few of those pies. They go good with the dishwater-weak coffee you serve around here.”

  “And what can I get for you, young man?” she asked Socko.

  “Whatever.” It was like he was the only one who knew a planet-destroying meteor was headed for earth. “I’m going with you,” he said, following her to the car.

  She sighed as she lowered herself into the driver’s seat. “It’s just a day at work, Socko.”

  “Mom. About Junebug and Rapp, leave it alone! I’m beggin’!”

  “I’ve worked too hard for that girl and she’s worked too hard for herself. She wants to dump him, but she needs a little help and that’s where I come in.” She jammed the key in the ignition. “I’ll take care of it before I come home.”

  “You actually think Rapp will just let her dump him?” She had never watched Rapp dangle somebody off the roof of the Kludge. “Seriously, I gotta go with you!”