Clyde

We were both sweaty as hell when we finally got to Nicana. It was dark out, but it was barely seven-thirty. Of course, only one-third of the street lights actually worked. The neighborhood wasn’t exactly high on the city’s list for upkeep.

“You going in?” Mark’s hands were shoved in his pockets. It took him a minute to walk up to me, since he’d been walking behind me the entire way.

I tried not to look at Mark for too long. “I’ll hang around out here. Go on in.”

“I’m guessing we’re playing dumb, then.”

“About what?”

Mark snorted. He seemed hesitant to go inside, but he finally did. I watched the door shut behind him and caught myself staring at the cracked paint and splintered wood. I forced my feet to take me away from the front door. The excuse in my mind was a walk around the block, just to check for any of Diaz’s people.

What were you thinking, getting that close to him? Heat rose to my face when I thought about how close I’d sat to Mark on the bench. That was probably the issue. I hadn’t been thinking when I did it. I just knew that we kept accidentally brushing against one another and Mark didn’t look away when he caught my eye.

Was I wrong? I thought there was no way to misinterpret the looks Mark gave me, or his reaction any time we got too close to each other. I wasn’t an idiot. I noticed, and I thought I knew what was going on. I thought he was interested.

Maybe Mark just needed a push. The way he’d immediately panicked when I got too close and his cut-off response told me that something else was at play. Mark was too vehement, and I knew what he sounded like when he lied. He sounded like he did when he said I don’t do guys.

“Hey. What are you wandering around for?” Caspar flicked a lighter in his left hand. The metallic noise it made was almost too soft to hear.

I frowned and looked back toward the house. I really hadn’t walked that far. I guessed I was too busy thinking. “No reason. I thought you went out on another gig.”

Caspar shrugged. “Wasn’t feeling it. U figured we should come back and wait on you and Mark. Maybe see if you had a target in mind for a quick haul.”

“Not really.” I shook my head. I thought about the coke and the car in Diaz’s lot. Not a good idea to go far, just yet. “Sorry you waited.”

Caspar was about to say something, but the door to the house opened a few blocks away and I heard the pounding of feet. Eugene was laughing as he slowed to a stop, panting from the exertion. Mark was walking up behind him; his pinched expression said Eugene had run from him and Mark hadn’t been willing to sprint again.

“You looked kind of down.” Eugene smiled brightly at me and passed over a licorice stick. I was guessing it was the last one in the bag, from the way Eugene had run out with it.

I wasn’t about to tell Eugene I’d eaten. Besides, it was technically candy. I accepted the licorice and stuck one end in my mouth. My mind was still stuck on Mark, but with him right next to me, I tried not to think too much about what had happened at the shop.

“I think Link wants us to check out the lot next to the interstate, tomorrow.” Caspar gave me a pointed look.

I knew what he was asking. I shrugged and said, “The camera on the north end isn’t working. The back right one doesn’t move all the way to the side. There’s a blind spot we can use to check the cars on the edge. That’s all I’ve got.”

“It’s more than Eu had.”

Eugene frowned. “My expertise is not stealing cars from an exposed, monitored lot. Who would do that, anyway?”

“Us, apparently.” Caspar snorted.

I liked that the twins were so distracting. When they chattered away, I could forget what I was thinking about. At least, most of the time I could. At the moment, it was hard to let the twins distract me.

Mark was walking on my left side and I could smell the faint trace of hand soap from the bathroom at the house. It was some cheap brand that was halfway between smelling like cleaner and flowers. When Mark had first joined up with the crew, I thought I smelled cologne on some of his clothes. It was long gone but sometimes, if I closed my eyes, I could remember what it was like.

Nic’s voice interrupted our pleasant stroll. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but we all turned to look at him. He stood on the front porch of the house, waving his arms dramatically.

Nic was always dramatic. He was seventeen and since the day the crew picked him up at fourteen, he’d always looked like the sky was falling down. Link had asked him what his name was, when we found him huddled up against the house next to ours, trying to shield himself with a tattered coat. Nic’s eyes had darted away and landed on the street sign in the distance. He told us Nicana. It was a bad lie, but we all accepted it. We accepted him.

“Wonder what it is this time,” Casper muttered.

“It’s soccer!” Eugene suddenly cried. He tore off toward the house and Caspar’s sigh was nearly lost in the sound of feet hitting the pavement.

“Oh, yeah,” I remembered. “Whoops.”

Mark snorted and shook his head. He started back anyway, even though we would have to walk back where we’d been going after meeting up with the others.

Soccer was just something we did. I couldn’t remember when it had started, but it worked. It brought everyone together—or at least most of us. We would take the ball down toward the opposite end of the street, where there was a cul-de-sac. There weren’t any solid teams; they always changed. Link said it was good for us to practice working with everyone.

Nic and Eugene were chattering away when they came back. Well, Eugene was chattering and Nic was mostly humming his responses. The rest of the crew were close behind; all the younger kids, who would be in middle school if they had normal lives. The teenagers like Nic. Link brought up the back, hands in his pockets, unhurriedly trailing them all.

Everyone was in place within five minutes. Somehow, Mark and I ended up on the same side of the line that Nic drew on the street, the chalk in his hand minuscule from the number of times we’d used it. Link stood on the sidelines, twirling the soccer ball in his hands, and then it sailed into the mix.

It was easy to forget everything when we were playing. With soccer, none of us were mistakes. None of us had escaped foster homes or shitty parents. None of us had buried our names in the past. We were all just kids and teens and not-quite-adults, having fun as the Sun set on the horizon.

“Watch out,” Mark called. He was grinning, and he probably would have laughed, if he wasn’t breathless from running.

I shook my head. “I’m not the one that just missed a goal!”

Mark laughed. He was flushed, and his hair was damp and messy from running. He bumped into me as we both moved to track the ball. At this point, it was the younger kids near the line that were energetically chasing the ball around. The older ones like Mark and I were winding down.

When Mark’s shoulder hit mine, I felt electricity jolt up my side. I couldn’t tell if my heart was pounding faster from the game or something else. I didn’t even know if his flush was a blush or not.

Stop it, I told myself. This is so not the time. But I kept looking over at Mark and catching the way his smile turned crooked when he saw me, like half of him wanted to say something and the other half desperately held the words back.

Maybe one of us did it on purpose, or we both made a mistake—but we collided again, this time with a little more force. We were close enough that I could feel the heat of Mark’s breath against my face as he turned to look at me, still laughing.

It would only take a little movement. Just a tilt forward and I could have kissed him.

Someone called Mark’s name and he turned to kick the ball. I watched it sail over the line and felt my heart pound harder. Was I just about to do that? A shiver of panic rose up my spine. Suddenly, I was more afraid of what I would do than what Link might say.

There was a sudden, short cry and then the mood changed. I could feel the tension ripple through the crew. The game came to a screeching halt—all except for Mark, who jogged easily over to the figure lying on the ground a few feet away.

It was Damien. He was one of the younger ones—twelve years old, trying to hold back tears as his knee bled. He bit his lip and I felt a rush of sympathy for him. It was hard to be a kid, when you lived on the streets. You had to grow up fast. Falling on the street and grinding gravel into your skin was the least of your worries.

Mark crouched. He bounced a little, hanging his arms over his knees. “Let’s see.”

I couldn’t hear what Mark murmured, but I did feel the way everyone relaxed. Has it always been this way? It was like Mark’s intervention was some sort of tranquilizer.

Link was still standing on the sidelines, but I could tell he was watching. He was smiling a little, reserved but patient. I wondered if I had missed this—if I spent too much time looking at Mark and not enough looking at the way everyone else looked at him. Maybe I wasn’t the only one that appreciated him for more than his lockpicking.

“There we go,” Mark said simply. He brushed away dirt and gravel and helped Damien to his feet. “We have stuff at the house you can use. Make sure you keep it clean.”

Link finally stepped in. He toed the soccer ball and managed to flip it into the air, catching it with one hand. “Let’s get you back. Kids—you know curfew. Keep it quiet, keep it safe.”

That was Link’s mantra and the Rapps’, by association. So long as we never took big risks or did crazy things, we would be fine. We would survive.

The rest of the crew filtered away, but the twins and Mark stayed behind. I watched Mark stretch and tried not to stare when his shirt hiked up his side, sliding against his skin. I didn’t know why my mind spun so quickly from the way his careful hands had helped Damien to the way his muscles looked.

I knew how dangerous it was to get close. It was one thing to know, though; it was another to make myself feel the way I should.

It was a perfect evening. Despite everything else I was worried about, I could admit that much. The sky was orange-pink, and I could see clouds silhouetted by the setting sun. It was veering toward fall weather, but for now, it was still warm. Still silent and calm and wonderful.

“Cop.” Mark’s sudden warning was low and sharp. So much for perfect. He veered toward the sidewalk. The twins followed close behind. As we left the empty street, I could tell how tense everyone was. It didn’t show in their body language—we knew better than that—but it was obvious in their eyes.

Caspar didn’t turn around from where he was walking a step ahead of me. “Shit. Is he going to the house?”

“No. He’s slowing down,” Mark muttered under his breath. “I don’t think he’s looking for the house.”

Damn. We knew what that meant. Either the cop was looking for someone specific—one of us—or he was just looking for trouble. Neither of those outcomes were good.

I tried desperately to come up with something we might have missed when we took the car. Were there cameras? Had someone seen us? I could have sworn that all our bases were covered. Nothing had gone wrong until the shop, when the guys found the coke.

Did Diaz call them? I immediately turned to look at Mark. From the widening of his eyes, I could tell he had the same thought. Neither of us wanted to believe that Diaz would do that to Link, but what we wanted didn’t matter. We’d given Diaz a drug-packed car. He didn’t have to take it well. No one would.

“Keep it cool,” Caspar reminded us. It was more nervous chatter than a real warning. We all knew what to do. “Our luck, he’s just looking to pick a fight. Don’t give him one.”

The car had pulled up to the sidewalk behind us. I heard the engine idle and then stop. A car door shut; it wasn’t slammed or hurried. I hoped that was a good sign. While we walked, Caspar faked a laugh and started to talk to Eugene about a class he didn’t have at a school he didn’t go to. We all looked like we could maybe be in high school. Maybe that would save us.

I could hear the cop walking up behind us. Every part of me itched to run. Run and don’t look back. You know you can start again. It was true. I could leave and start again, if I really wanted. But I didn’t move. I knew that if I did, anyone left behind would have to answer for why I bolted. I couldn’t stomach the thought of Eugene and Caspar being separated, or Mark silently rotting in a holding cell.

I cared what happened to them. I didn’t want to, but I did. So, I stayed where I was when the cop stepped up onto the sidewalk. Caspar stopped mid-story, feigning confusion. “Can we help you, officer?”

The cop glanced at Caspar, but his focus was on me. I felt an immediate stab of fear spike through me. What was the one rule? Don’t get caught. I’d had close shaves twice before. I had felt the powerlessness of awaiting a conviction. I had told myself I would never go through that again. But, here I was.

“You Clyde Smith?” The officer seemed calm. I couldn’t tell whether this was good or bad, but the fact that he knew my name set off alarms in my head.

I saw Mark start to open his mouth. For a split second, I contemplated letting him answer. Almost as quickly, I was horrified at even considering it. And was he even offering?

“Yeah. That’s me,” I replied. I tried not to sound as nervous as I felt.

The officer pressed his lips together in a thin line. He seemed, I realized, like he was dreading this entire conversation. “Can I see some I.D.?”

He’s lucky I have it. I was still reluctant to talk to the cop at all, but fear and curiosity prompted me to act. I reached into my back pocket for my old I.D. card. It was cracked from a few bad tumbles. The officer took it and stared at it too long, like maybe just looking would change it to someone else’s.

“What’s this about?” I finally asked. I was impatient and antsy. Half of me wanted to tell the others to go ahead, just so they could warn Link or get out before things went to hell. I knew I shouldn’t, though. They might lead the cop right back to the hideout.

The cop passed my card back and scratched his forehead with his thumb. He glanced down the street but there was no one around. His hands were on his hips and one of his feet was on the curb, his knee bent a little. I knew this pose. This was the way the officer had looked when he’d picked my mom up. This was the bad news stance.

“I’m going to need you to come with me, son.”

Son. Officers were the only people that had ever called me son. I thought distantly about that while the man waited for my answer. Next to me, I noticed Eugene stiffen. He wasn’t the best when it came to poker faces. I knew he was ready to throw himself into the mix.

“All right.” I could almost hear the shock rolling off the others. I turned and caught Mark’s eye. I hoped he knew what I was trying to say. “You all go ahead. I’ll be back.”

I didn’t know that, but none of the others pointed that out. They just watched me climb into the cruiser. I tried not to stare at them too long. I was going to be back. I had to be.

It took five minutes of driving for me to crack. “What is this about?”

The officer rubbed his forehead again. A nervous tic. He was a coward, I thought. Couldn’t even open his mouth and tell me what the hell I was being taken away for.

When the man finally spoke, he didn’t say anything I had expected. “It’s your mom.”

“What about her? Is she okay?” My heart kicked into overdrive. I was terrified, sure, but I was also furious. Why the fuck did he save this until now? I wanted him to pull over, so I could punch him in the mouth.

“Why don’t you wait ‘til we get there, son. She’s—she’s not dead, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

That wasn’t comforting to hear. Not dead didn’t mean fine. I kept my mouth shut despite the questions running through my head. It wasn’t far to get to the prison and all the answers I needed were there.

I hated the prison. The idea of it, the threat, the physical building—I hated all of it. I would never have gone near it if my mom wasn’t locked up. The big gray complex was just a reminder that people could screw you over and it could change your entire life. That failure meant the opposite of freedom.

Going through security was a familiar circus. I was just glad I hadn’t been picked up with anything on me. By the time I got inside, there was a guard outside the visitation room. Hours were over, but something told me this was important enough to break the routine.

The door was opened for me and I expected something bad—but something manageable. Maybe she would be bruised and banged up. Maybe she just had news about her trial or her shitty attorney.

“Hey, honey.” I could hear the tears in her voice. I could see the barely-dry tracks on her face. I could also see that there were bandages on her right eye and they looked thick.

“What the fuck?” I crossed the room in what felt like the blink of an eye. I sank into the chair across from her. Instead of feeling anger or sorrow, I just felt empty. It was too much at once. “Mom, what happened?”

“Fight.” Her smile was crooked. I wondered if she’d started it, or if she’d even been a part of the brawl. Marybeth Smith was many things, but she wasn’t an idiot. “It’s gonna take some getting used to.”

Her words registered almost a full minute after she spoke. I found my gaze pulled back to the bandages on the right side of her face. Finally, the horror set in. “Mom. Is—did it—”

“Gone.” She nodded as if it were not big deal. Like she didn’t just lose a goddamn eye. I wanted to hit something.

Maybe she knew what I was feeling. My mother reached across the table as much as her cuffs would allow her. “Hey. I just wanted to tell you they put me in solitary. Visiting won’t be the same.”

“Solitary,” I echoed. “You have got to be—”

“That’s enough,” she said quickly. “I don’t have time. Just—I don’t know what’s going to happen. That idiot attorney hasn’t done much to help, either.”

I knew that. I knew, and I couldn’t do shit about it; at least, not yet. I opened my mouth, but my tongue felt useless in my mouth. What the hell could I say that I hadn’t already? I had gone through the list in the past five years. I’m sorry was up near the top, right alongside I’ll fix it.

“I’ll—figure it out.” I changed my promise halfway through. This was all I could promise.

My mother smiled at me. It was tired, like it always was, and I could do anything to help that, either. “I know, honey. I love you.”

She left me with that. It was all she said before I was escorted out again, everything else a blur of routine and shock. She lost an eye. I wanted to scream at someone. I wanted to rip into the manager of the whole damn place, if there even was one.

This should never have happened. It was all I could think the entire way back to Nicana. By the time I stepped out of the car, I was lost in a haze of stress. I needed to make the money I had planned to, quickly. My mother needed a new attorney more than ever.

Eugene was pacing on the porch. I had made the cop drop me off on the corner, so I could see Eugene struggling not to run over to me as I walked. When I got to the house, Eugene waited expectantly. When I didn’t say anything, he spoke up. “Are you okay? What happened?

I shook my head. I couldn’t even fully do that. I felt suddenly exhausted. “I’m fine.”

“Clyde, you just—”

“What was it for?” Caspar was suddenly on the porch, arms crossed. He wasn’t angry at me, or anyone. He was worried. Guarded. Caspar had made a profession of worrying about his brother; he couldn’t just shut it off.

“Nothing. I’m not being charged. Not caught.”

That was all they needed to know. In the end, it was what Link cared about. Where you caught? No? Then, that’s it. Our pasts and our families weren’t things the Rapps talked about. We had left our lives behind for a reason. The Rapps weren’t in the habit of digging the past up.

Caspar should have left it at that—he and his brother both—but for some reason, they didn’t. They pressed. I knew it was because they cared, but in my mind, I pretended they were just being nosy. It was easier for me to handle, that way.

“Where did he take you? Did they threaten you?” Caspar came down the steps to stand in front of me. He did it to put us on equal footing, but Caspar was nearly half an inch taller than me. Right now, at least.

I shook my head. I just wanted to go inside, already. “No. Look—I’m fine. It’s fine. No problem.”

With that, I was prepared to walk away. As soon as I reached the door, however, I found Mark. He stood leaning against the door frame, looking for all the world as casual as anything. Like I hadn’t be carted away by a cop hours ago. “We haven’t told Link anything.” It wasn’t what I expected. Mark paused and then caught my eyes. “Do you want me to?”

“No.” I wasn’t ready to deal with that. Not when we might have fallout from the drug-loaded car to deal with. Besides, it wasn’t his business. Or anyone else’s.

I felt better. For some strange reason, the fact that Mark hadn’t said anything lifted some of the weight from my shoulders. At least I wouldn’t have to deal with Link or his anger. I wouldn’t have to tell him anything.

“You can stay with me, for a while. They won’t find you.” Mark’s offer took me by surprise. Privacy was scant for the Rapps. There was never enough room. For him to even consider letting me into his makeshift room was big.

“Yeah.” I found myself following him, despite everything I had told myself just hours before about staying away. “Thanks.”

Mark didn’t pressure me for answers. He was quiet when he led the way to one of the bathrooms. The tub inside was too cracked to use for anything but the bed he had made from it; there were old blankets on the bottom and a nicer one on top. He used a hoodie as a pillow, I noticed.

It felt weirdly intimate to be in the same space as him. Mark kicked his shoes into a corner and sighed as he climbed into the tub. He lay down like he was going to sleep, but as he lay there, he just stared at the ceiling. I wondered if he was trying to give me privacy.

“I’ll talk to Link in the morning, if he asks about the car.” Mark closed his eyes for a minute. Maybe he was imagining the scene. “I can afford to wait to go out.”

He couldn’t. None of us could. But Mark was offering, just because I was being close-mouthed after being picked up by a cop.

In a sudden rush, I remembered the moment on the bus bench. We had been so close. I had seen him watching me, sometimes like I was a puzzle to solve and other times like I was a movie. Mark watched me, and I thought I knew why, but he didn’t seem to want to accept it.

It was selfish and stupid to like him. It was worse to trust him. But I did trust him and that’s why I opened my mouth. “It was about my mom.”

There was a beat of silence. I half expected him to throw me out. I don’t need to know about this shit, he would say. That was the unspoken rule. Don’t talk about your past.

Instead, Mark was quiet. He nodded a little and that was all I needed. Everything else started to spill out, too. “She’s in prison. Her asshole ex sold her out. I—she shouldn’t be there. It’s not safe. She got into a fight and someone took one of her eyes out.”

“She has an attorney?” Mark’s voice was soft, like he was trying not to scare a wild animal. I wondered if he knew anything about being in prison. Apparently, he knew about attorneys.

“Yeah, but he sucks. He hasn’t done shit for her. I need to get her a new one. I need—”

I stopped myself before I could say any more. I already felt like I’d given away too much. Why had I spoken, anyway? A little voice in my head told me I was stupid for trusting Mark so much, but I pushed it away. He had done more for me in the past twenty-four hours than most people had done my entire life. Mark cared, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

“You need money.” Mark nodded shortly, as if everything was suddenly making sense. Maybe it was. “You need more jobs.”

“Yeah. Or a big one,” I added. I rubbed my face with my hands. It was exhausting to finally tell someone, but I felt better.

“I’ll help.”

I turned to look at Mark. I suspected he would offer, but part of me had still refused to believe that anyone could care. “I—why? Are you sure?”

He had his share to earn. He probably wanted his own money, too. I would have said that, but I was waiting for Mark to answer. He shifted in the tub and the plastic groaned a little. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

He still didn’t say why. But I didn’t need to know. I didn’t want to push and risk losing his help. I needed it, even if I was slow to trust someone else with my problems.

“Okay,” I finally said. “I really—thanks.”

Finally, Mark turned to look at me. I saw the faintest smile on his lips, just curved up at the corners. “Yeah,” he said. “Let’s do this.”