Chapter Fifteen
posted in Novel |
Here’s the next chapter of Lost and Found.
This has been a strange week for me. I found myself getting too embroiled in the politics here, and by midday yesterday I was in one of the worst moods I can remember. I did a “rant” on Facebook and then broke out one of my Spiritual Cinema films to watch. (If you would like to learn more about these films, there’s a banner link right under the Table of Contents on the left.)
I watched “Canvas” with Marcia Gay Harding and Joe Pantoliano. It was a really special story and managed to help me to remember to live the way I believe.
Hope you enjoy the chapter.
Be well — be in peace,
Ron Rink
==========================================================
The days of playing fun games with Billy ended one day when we were having a slow afternoon at the bowling alley. I was sitting up on my shelf waiting for someone to start using my alleys when Billy came walking over behind me and asked, “How’s it going with your old man? Is he still beating the shit out of you all the time? I still see marks on your face and arms sometimes.”
“Yeah—it’s still happening pretty often. I ran away twice this summer, but I got caught by the cops both times after just a few days. I’d do it again right away, but it’s starting to get cold out and I don’t know where to go to stay warm during the daytime. I don’t want to freeze my ass off!”
He just looked at me with an expression of exasperation, leaned up against the back of my shelf and shook his head.
“You gotta learn how to take care of yourself on the streets. You gotta learn how to fight good enough to keep the creeps from giving you a bad time. You gotta know where to go so the cops won’t keep finding you and bringing you back home all the time.”
Just thinking about how much I wanted to be on my own and realizing how difficult it would be had me hanging my head. “I don’t know where to learn how to do stuff like that. Do you know how to do those things?” I asked.
“I don’t know too much about running away, but I do know how to take care of myself on the streets and how to keep away from the cops”.
Billy kept looking up at me and shaking his head. “I belong to the State Fair Dukes. We’re doing battle all the time with other gangs, and we never lose. We got some of the best street-fighters on this side of town,” he said as he swaggered around over behind his shelf and got another cigarette.
I knew Billy was tough because the guys at the bowling alley never gave him a bad time. There were always fights breaking out among the other guys who worked there, but nobody ever tried to start anything with Billy. He was treated with a lot of respect.
“So, could you teach me how to street-fight?” I asked with as tough a voice as I could muster for a little eight-year old kid.
“I don’t know—you’re still just a kid and you could get hurt. If you go running home crying, then I get in trouble.”
I puffed myself up and said, “I don’t care if I get hurt, and even if I did, I wouldn’t go crying to anyone. I gotta learn sometime. I’m already getting beat up by my old man. It can’t hurt more than that.”
Billy looked at me like I didn’t have a brain in my head and said, “Oh yeah—it can hurt a lot more than that.”
I jumped down off my shelf and walked over to where Billy was standing. He and I stood facing each other as he looked me up and down. I was hoping he would say he would teach me how to fight.
He pushed himself back up onto his shelf, ground out his cigarette against the wall, and said, “Come over to my house after work today and I’ll show you some stuff. Nobody’ll be home so we don’t have to worry about anybody stopping us.”
If I weren’t trying to be super cool, I would have jumped for joy. Instead, I just nodded my head, kept a straight face, and said, “Sure, man, sounds good—let’s do it.”
=============================================================
