Chapter 11: He's Not Alone
A/N: Thank you for all the reviews! I know you don't care about this part, but I just have to apologize for this taking so long! School's been rough, cheerleading sucks right now. (sings) I-I gotta get outta here! Beggin you, beggin you to be my escape!
A blonde, bronze-skinned boy dashed down East Oriole as he always did.
Only this time, he had a target in mind.
Mullet Fingers had arrived super early to the bus stop east of town, two blocks past the owl conservation. He sat leisurely watching the sun rise, estimating it was ten till seven. That was fine; he had all the time in the world, his rage wasn't going to go away.
Meanwhile, a stout, pudge-waisted boy with a red backpack began ambling up the street, while muttering curses apparently to thin air. Stopping for breath, he looked around. He saw only an empty bus stop, nothing abnormal. He loped in an ungainly fashion to the unoccupied bench and sat down with a thud and shut his eyes in concentration.
"6 times 6 is 34… no 36, dammit."
"8 times 6 is 34, no… it's fifty something. Aw screw it I'm gonna fail."
The blonde found it almost amusing. He continued listening.
"So if I get 40 bucks from that cock fight I'll have $58…"
The blonde's deep eyes narrowed and furrowed at the thought of poor roosters being forced to fight to the death. He decided it was time.
"So when's the fight?"
He could tell he had startled the little whelp, who stared confusedly.
"What? Who are you?"
Thank God he doesn't remember me. But Mullet Fingers had changed a lot since that miniature stint at Juvie.
"That ain't important. Where's the fight?"
"My uncle's house. Down by the old shed." He pointed a stubby forefinger. "Saturday, at 8."
The blonde studied his expression with an air of carelessness.
"Really? I might just drop by; see if they're any good. I hear the ones here are wimpy compared to Tampa's." That was just the thing to say.
"Nuh uh! My uncle trained one bigger'n everybody's! It's gonna kill that other one so fast you won't believe it!"
The blonde laughed caustically.
"He trained it? You can't train a fighter. They're just born with it." He took a menacing step towards Dana, speaking evenly but cruelly.
"Roy Eberhardt wasn't born with it."
"What? Who?" Dana's eyes widened, he looked for a way to escape.
"Do you always pick on kids who seem alone, or are you just a sadist?"
"Roy? That loner twerp weren't worth nothin'. What's it to you?"
Now Mullet was holding Dana up by the front of his stained tee shirt.
"It matters a lot to you, now I'm gonna smash your head in for it." The boy was sweating and begging now.
"Hey man, I ain't never crossed you."
"Just don't mess with him again, you bastard, or I'll pound your skull in so hard your tiny brain will shatter and go all over the street!" And gesturing to said street, the blonde noticed the school bus turn closer.
So he dropped the bigger boy on his fat bottom and left him there whimpering, yelling as he ran, "Don't forget, Dana! Roy's not alone!"
A/N: If you don't review I'll make Roy Dana's victim again! Muahahaha. (No seriously I may never do that again. It made me very depressed to write that. But payback is brilliant, or would be if Mullet Fingers wasn't so P.O'd)