Stay down, kid.
The McMillans were bad news and anyone with a brain knew it You couldn't hardly tell 'em apart, each one big, mean, and dumber than a box o'rocks. Joey was fifteen for Christ's sake.
Bucky was almost twelve and any one of 'em could easily clean his clock, so what the hell did this punk think he was doin'?
One of the brothers shifted enough for Bucky to see the broken sled and crying girl a few yards beyond the tussle. That gave him enough of an idea about the situation to draw some conclusions. Laughing bullies, broken toy, idiot kid who thought himself sixty pounds of superhero.
Bucky shouldn't get involved.
Thankfully, it looked like it was winding down. The blond kid had a bloody nose and was sitting ass deep in a pile of greyish slush, but he didn't look too bad, considering. The thugs were starting to look bored even, turning away, ready to terrorize somebody else…
Then Bucky saw what the kid was doing behind his back. Aw, hell.
"Don't do it, kid," Bucky murmured, "Don't you dare throw that snowba…"
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Somebody better call the Priest for last rites 'cause those Joes were gonna murder the boy if he threw…
Dammit.
An hour later Bucky was working on getting his wind back around his own busted nose, which was paired with what felt like one hell of a shiner. The dumbass who had joined him in what had to be the dirtiest alleyway in Brooklyn sported a split lip and a goose egg blossoming above his left eyebrow. They were lucky, it would have been far worse had the cops not happened by and run them all off.
"A shrimp like you's gonna get yourself killed if you keep messin' with the likes of them," Bucky yelled. "What are you, some kinda idiot?"
The kid stuck his pointy chin out about a mile or so and said, "It's not right, what they did," as if that made any damn difference. Bucky had learned years ago that right or wrong didn't ever really figure into who ended up on top. This kid was just too damn young.
"I'm ten," blondie maintained, "I know what I'm about."
"You're about to get your ass pummeled if you keep acting the way you did today," Bucky answered. "Nobody likes those fellas but there's not much we can do about it. You gotta Think before you can pull that sort of shit, God almighty…"
The kid gasped at Bucky's blasphemy and turned his head up, perhaps in an attempt to hide his flushed cheeks. After a second or two he blinked and his eyes focused on something above their heads. The kid had a really nice smile.
"I think I've got an idea."
The McMillan boys stopped coming around after a few weeks of being bombarded with gravel-filled snowballs from the fire escapes every time they turned around. They said it was because they didn't wanna play with little kids when there were more important things to be doing, but everyone in the neighborhood knew the truth.
"That was a pretty good idea, Steve," Bucky admitted, legs dangling from the grill as he watched the older boys disappear around the corner.
"I've got more," Steve answered with that wicked grin of his.
This kid was going to be the death of him.