Walking into the kitchen I was surprised to see my Mother making breakfast for Angela and Curly with Frank nowhere in site. Looked like I was getting a break. I had enough on my plate today with out the daily domestic dispute we usually went through. There was a new crew from up North in town calling themselves the Spiders I needed to deal with. Normally I wouldn't give a shit about some new boys trying to come in and make a name for them selves. But I'd been hearing whispers about them trying to push hard drugs, and that was on thing I didn't allow in my territory. Booze and Grass were harmless but acid and heroin were in a different category all together. I'd seen the after effects of using that junk in jail and there was no way I was going to let any of my boys go down that road.

There was a meeting with the heads of the River Kings, Tiber Street Tigers and Brumely to hear what they'd seen and heard. We all respected each other having grown up in the same areas, and we had a truce most of the time. We stayed on our own turf, backed each other when necessary and didn't hold grudges after shit went down. In the end it boiled down to the fact that

I had more boys who were willing to do whatever it took to make what I wanted to happen reality right now. The numbers waned and rose as the months went on, because it was a constant battle to remain number one, but I was good at. Fighting, hustling and being in charge were what I lived for. It gave me a chance to be something more than just another crab in the barrel trying to get out.

"Good Morning Timothy," My mother said smiling as her dark eyes light up and her mouth curled up at the corners.

She was real pretty and petite; so I never understood why she put up with Frank when I knew she could do much better. My real Father had been thrown in jail for life for murder when I was eleven, and then two years later Frank had showed up. It was a sting to my pride when she said it we needed him as a provider when I'd been bringing in money and taking care of things on my own. It taught me a valuable lesson; no matter what you did for a broad she always wanted more so there was no point in trying to please them in the first place.

"Morning Ma," I said nodding as she made us all plates.

" I got some business to tend to this morning, so I can give you two a ride to school," I said between bites as they nodded.

Finishing up we headed out to the black Chevy I'd taken as payment a few years back and made our way down to Booker T. Washington. Things had cooled off since Johnny Cade killed the Soc, but I figured it was only a matter of time till it flared back up again. Cause in the end Socs were still Socs, and Greasers were still greasers, and letting your guard down while you thought otherwise was just an invitation to get yourself hurt.

"What's the meeting about this morning?" Curly asked making me look over at him in the passenger seat.

He was older now, and I didn't mind having him back me really. I just wish he'd learn to get a handle on that hot temper so I could trust him with more. Acting before thinking things through was a bad trait to have for a leader, but still he was young and had time to grow out of it.

"I'm meeting with all the local boys about the Spiders," I said as he nodded.

"You need some back up?" He asked as I shook my head.

"Its just the head guys, and I'ma take Jay with me," I said as he nodded.

Jay Baxter was my right hand man. We'd been friends since we were kids, and he was the kind of guy you wanted on your side when shit went down. He kept a level head, and didn't' mind getting his hands dirty. Pulling up in front of the school I was surprised to see a group of black kids walk towards the stairs. The integration law had passed in 1955 and they'd started mixing kids in 1956 but the white kids had just moved on to our school, making the other school predominantly Negro.

"Since when do they go to our school?" I asked as Curly shrugged.

"Guess they decided to try again this year," He replied as I nodded.

We never really had a problem with blacks in our family like some of the other people in our

Neighborhood. I ran around with Dwight Davis whose family ran the numbers for Negroes. He'd showed me how to set things up on the East side, and I was making a nice profit. He ran with the Tigers who were usually allies, and I had a nice hustle with his Father Ray. Ray worked in a cotton gin in the next county over and always supplied me with the liquor and beer that was hard to get in this mostly dry county.

"Hey man aint that Dwight's sister?" Curly asked pointing out the fairer skinned girl in a white skirt

with a blue shirt.

" I think it is," I said taking in her long legs, ample chest, and skin the color of cinnamon mixed with Caramel.

Alice had grown up real nice over the summer. I saw her from time to time when she ran errands with her brothers, collecting the number winnings and dropping off booze. Most guys wouldn't look twice at a black chick, but I didn't' mind a bit of color. My mom was Puerto Rican, which made me a half-breed myself. Shaking my head at the turn my thoughts had taken I made a mental note to visit Sylvia after the meeting. When I was getting a hard on looking at some black chick still in high school it was past time for me to get laid.

"Guess the Socs will have some one new to hate this year, so we might get off easy," Angela said dryly getting out the back as Curly followed her.

Taking one last look at the school I couldn't help but think she reminded me of Alice in Wonderland in that blue and white get up.

" Booker T. ain't never going to be Wonderland though," I mumbled pulling off as I headed to Jay's.

A/n: Running the numbers was a homemade lottery before the lottery was invented. Normally every race had their own, and the family made a nice profit though it was illegal.

Booker T. Washington is a real school in Tulsa and was chosen in 1973 be the vehicle for Tulsa's school desegregation program after a first failed attempt in 1956, which is mentioned in the story.

(Booker T. Washington was built in 1913 for the

African American Students so that I did change for the

purpose of the story, reversing it)