Pumping the pedals on his bike, Matt squeaked down the street. It wasn't the bike he'd wanted. He'd wanted a cool BMX bike, black, with the beartrap pedals and hand brakes. Instead, he had the same old bicycle Terry had owned, red, with a kickstand that didn't quite work.
That's how it always was. He lived in Terry's shadow, getting his hand me downs, riding his bike, wearing his clothes. At school, teachers remembered Terry. Relatives always said how much he looked like his brother. Everything he got was Terry's leftovers. Even when Terry paid attention to him, it was as if he was only giving Matt whatever scraps of time he had no other use for.
He hated his brother. It was why he made fun of Terry all the time, called him dork, twip, and so forth. Before their parents divorced, Terry had always had time for him. They'd played, they'd hung out, they'd fought certainly, but it was the kind of fight that was always forgotten by supper time.
But when things had really started getting bad with their parents, Terry had changed, too. He'd gotten distant, surly. He wouldn't talk anymore. After the divorce, he'd lived with them for a few months, but it wasn't working. He'd be gone overnight; Mom would be frantic, and then he'd turn up in the morning, none the worse for wear, but Mom was furious. Matt had tried to understand, tried to be patient. He just missed his brother; he wanted back the Terry he remembered.
And then one morning, he didn't come back. Mary had called the police; they finally learned that he'd been picked up by the cops. And before Matt knew it, his brother was in jail.
That was when Matt finally decided he hated his brother.
When he got out, Terry didn't live with them anymore. He lived with Dad instead. And it had stayed that way until their father had died. Matt had finally gotten used to having the house to himself; he felt like an only child. He liked it, in a way. But Terry came back again, and Matt couldn't feel anything but envy and resentment for this stranger in his house: anger over what Terry had turned into, envy for what he was now. He still wanted the brother he'd known when he was five.
Which was why he was here. He turned his bike around a corner and there was Terry's motorcycle, outside a dingy bar. Matt knew Terry wasn't supposed to be at a place like this. If his mother knew about this, she wouldn't let Terry out of her sight for months. She'd probably even make him quit that job for Mr. Wayne.
Of course, Terry would be pretty angry with him. But at least he'd be home again. Maybe he'd be more like he used to be.
Matt parked his bike behind a dumpster in an alley across the street from the bar. He got out his camera and focused through the viewfinder. It was a pretty good shot. He would just wait for Terry to come out, snap a few photos, and--
"Well, what have we got here?"
Matt turned to see three people, faces painted up like clowns. The tallest leaned over. "Out past your bedtime, aren't you?"
Matt drew himself up with more courage than he actually felt. He remembered how many times Mom had warned him about gang members like this. But he wasn't going to be pushed around by someone in pancake makeup and a fool's cap. He put his hands on his hips and looked this clown right in the eye.
"So what? You're out past yours."
The two Jokerz behind the leader started laughing. The leader straightened up. "Hey, he's a comedian. Maybe we should let him join."
Matt climbed onto his bike. "Forget it. I don't like clowns."
The head Joker grabbed the handlebars of the bike, blocking his way. "Hey, what's the hurry? I bet we can change your mind."
"Hey, leave me alone!" Matt tried to back away, but the man's grip on the bike was firm.
"Aww, now you've hurt my feelings." He smiled to his friends. "Playtime, boys." One of the Jokerz pulled out a chain. He moved towards Matt. The boy cowered, unsure what to do.
Abruptly, the Joker with the chain fell to ground, giving a faint groan. Matt looked up to see a girl, her face done up like the others, landing on the fallen Joker. Before he really understood what had happened, the other two were running off, one clutching his arm.
She turned to face the boy. Her face was done up like a Raggedy Ann doll.
"Hello, Matt," she smiled.