December Park(27)

Keener kicked my legs out from under me. At the same instant, both Nance and Sallis let me go.

I dropped to the pavement like a sack of wet laundry, a stunning bright pain bolting through my hip. It took a second or two for the world to shift back into focus. Just as Keener’s Doc Martens advanced toward me, Sallis and Nance yanked me to my feet, but this time my legs had difficulty cooperating.

“I’m not a f*cking imbecile. We know you ratted us out to your old man,” Keener said. Behind him, Ottawa looked like he wanted to leapfrog over Keener and tear me apart. “There’s no way the cops could’ve known it was us unless you told them.” His eyes gleamed. They were the eyes of a hungry wolf. “None of the cops saw us do it. But I know you saw us, you little rat f*ck.”

“You ever scrub paint off walls, cocksucker?” Sallis barked too close to my ear, shaking me in his grasp.

“Should make him scrape it off with his face,” Ottawa said. “Should take him there tonight, watch him work it off for you, Nate. Use his teeth on it.”

“Not a bad idea,” Keener said. “But first, I’m gonna play cop, just like you and your old man. See, I got your community service right here, Mazzone. I got it for you good, bro.”

I turned my head, and the punch caught me behind my right ear: the heat-filled sting of a giant wasp. A great bell began to ring in the center of my head.

“Hold his face up,” Keener said calmly.

“Dude,” Nance whined through the tolling of the bell as he gripped my chin and turned my face, “just watch where you’re swinging.”

I buried my chin against my collarbone like a frightened turtle.

“Hold him,” Keener shouted.

“Hurry up,” Nance protested while trying to pry my chin off my collarbone. “Just punch him in the face so we can get the f*ck out of here.”

“Yeah, man,” Sallis added. “Push his teeth up into his gums so we can bolt.”

Keener hit me again. I saw the swing come through blurry eyes. Again I managed to turn my head away, but he caught me high on the cheekbone. Pain exploded. It felt like the bones in my skull were about to shake apart.

Keener laughed maniacally.

I opened my eyes. The world swam in and out of focus. Tears froze to my face. Or it could have been blood.

“How’s that feel, you stool pigeon faggot?” Keener said. “How’s that community service working out for you?”

“Coward bitch,” I spat.

The smile on Keener’s face vanished. “You don’t know when to shut the f*ck up, do you, *?”

Headlights appeared around the bend at the intersection of Haven and Worth. All of them except for Ottawa, who seemed powerless to remove his eyes from mine, turned in the direction of the headlights.

I saw my opportunity and took it, bringing up one knee and swinging it forward, then swinging it back.

“He’s—”Ottawa started but it was too late.

I planted my sneaker squarely against Nance’s kneecap and felt something pop. A sound like someone snapping an elastic band rang through the sudden stillness. Nance’s hands dropped from my forearm. Then an agonized howl burst from his lips as he collapsed in a messy heap to the pavement.

I wasted no time gathering my own feet beneath me. I headed straight for the woods but only managed about two strides until I was jerked backward and dragged to the ground. Something tightened around my neck. I heard something tear—it turned out to be the hood of my sweatshirt—and saw Sallis stumble to the ground beside me, a look of stunned agony on his pale face. He went down hard, his chin rebounding off the pavement. Then his body went limp.

I hopped to my feet and tore through the blinding darkness of the woods. My exhalations were a rhythmic, abrasive rattle in my throat. I heard Keener and his friends shouting at each other, trying to regroup. Sheer seconds later, their thundering footfalls crashed through the underbrush behind me.

Reinvigorated by their pursuit, I pushed myself harder through the trees. I found the dirt path that I had taken my bike down the night I rode to the Shallows and ran for all I was worth. But as the shouts and footfalls of my pursuers grew louder and louder, I knew I was an easy target on the dirt path, so I ditched into the woods.

“There!” someone shouted behind me. “He cut into the trees!”

I kept going and didn’t look back. Through the tangled network of tree limbs I spotted the filaments of yellow light dancing in the windows of the houses on the next street over, which was Worth Street, where I lived. I could even hear the wind chimes that hung from the Mathersons’ back porch tinkling in the wind.

Something hard struck the small of my back. Something else banged into my left elbow and jostled the nerves straight up through my forearm. A third object whizzed past my head, and even in the sightlessness of the woods I could see it was a large stone. The bastards were throwing rocks at me.

Keener’s friends shouted, their heavy feet crashing through the underbrush. They made the brusque and confused noises of big, dumb mammals. On the far end of the street, I heard Keener’s pickup growl to life and squeal as it shuddered into drive. I made out the truck’s headlights streaming down the street, running parallel to me. He was planning to beat me to Worth Street and grab me when I came out of the woods behind the Mathersons’ house.

I cut sharply to the right and vaulted over a fallen tree. The lights at the rear of the Mathersons’ house were abruptly blotted out by a stand of pines.