A/N: An update! :-) I know...'bout time. ^^' *sniff* Poor Charade is sick…and dizzy…and tired…and loaded with homework. *sniff sniff* Anyway…review, mis amigas!! I LOVE YOU!!

Shout Outs

Charm~I love how you always put your favorite excerpts in reviews.  I love your minions. I love you! ^_^ Keep reviewing!

Leprechaun (jazandsas)~I put something special in this chapter just for you, so you can quit bugging me. :-P

loviedovie~"I'm so in love with him! But I'm sure not as much as you!" You definitely know how how to win my friendship! ;-) Please come again!

trucalifornian~No worries about slacking on reviews…you're talking to the worst slacker on the face of the planet! ^_^ Thank you much for the lovely comments! Hope to hear from you again!

Spice of Life~Thank you so much for reviewing both this and my other story! *hugs* It brings me much joy!

Zip/Desty, Tag/Peach, Tree/Ermine~Where are my OOH chicas? Get back here and keep it up, my loves! ;-)

Kirjava Deamon~Thank you for reviewing Fortune's Fools! I finally updated this one! *grins proudly*

The author would like to gratefully acknowledge every Alex she has ever had a crush on, as the inspiration behind that name.


Chapter Four: The Gang

Six Years Before Arrival

"No tengo el dinero."

Brian was becoming increasingly sick of that statement. It seemed to be the catch phrase at Hidalgo's. It was used as a ten-pound hint for a friend to buy you a drink, an excuse to worm out of another round of pool or poker, or a plea for mercy when some thug came after you. It was one of the first scraps of Spanish Brian had ever learned, along with every curse word imaginable.

Across the bar from the pool table, a fight broke out. Most likely, Brian mused as he watched two boys try to strangle each other, "No tengo el dinero" had not been satisfactory for one of them. As recently as last year, when he was seven, Brian had always been nervous when left alone in Hidalgo's, especially when there was a fight; and, of course, there was always a fight. But things had changed since then. No one ever bothered Brian anymore. That was because his brother hung out with the Gang now.

The town was full of gangs; why this particular one had become known simply as "the Gang" was a mystery to Brian. Of course, it had a reputation the size of Texas, but whatever activities had gained it this reputation never seemed to effect Brian. Naturally, he assumed, they didn't effect Mark, either. Mark was accepted by the Gang because he was tough and brave and people listened to him; those were things Brian had always known about his brother. Mark's involvement in this group didn't change anything, except giving Brian a much appreciated shield of protection.

Well...it also meant that he was left alone more. That he saw less of his brother, spent less time with him. That it had been a long time since they had played one-on-one poker, or bought ice cream at the corner store, or sneaked into movies; and when Brian chased the cars on the highway these days, he did so alone. But what of that? Much as he might regret or even resent these things, being younger was a fact of life; and if he was too young even to serve as one of the Gang's many little tag-alongs, he would just have to accept it.


"Brian! ¿Qué pasa?"

Starting slightly, Brian completed his pool shot before turning toward the voice. He wasn't particularly good at pool, but he played it anyway...to pass the time, and to use up energy so it wouldn't have to be used for twitching, and just because everyone played pool.

When he did turn around, he saw an Hispanic boy only a couple years his senior, grinning cheerfully at him. Brian recognized him as José something-or-other; about ten years old, he was one of the numerous younger boys who tagged along with the Gang.

"Nunca," Brian replied shyly in response to the question. Curiously, he glanced down at a small, furry creature twining itself around the older boy's ankles. The creature, a scruffy tortoiseshell kitten, looked up at him with luminous green eyes and mewed a greeting.

José followed his gaze and blushed slightly. "Guess she followed me in here," he muttered, an accent indicating his native tongue still pervading his words. He proceeded to completely contradict his carefully casual tone by scooping up the kitten and absently scratching its ears till it purred with delight. Brian suppressed a smile. José always had some kind of animal around.

"So where're the others?" he asked, bouncing on his heels, but trying not to sound too hopeful. Usually, José was wherever the Gang was. If José was here now, maybe Mark and the rest of his usual posse would be along soon.

At this question, however, something passed over the other boy's face. Though the change was subtle, Brian could see his expression become more closed, more guarded; and there was a nervous flicker in his eyes. "Oh, um..." José shrugged. "I dunno. They're, uh...around. Me an' some other guys left. The rest of them, Mark an', uh...an' the rest...I think they'll be out pretty late tonight. Mark wanted me to tell you not to wait up."

Brian's heart sank. It must have shown in his face, because José attempted a smile for him. "Hey, maybe he'll be around tomorrow, kid. C'mon now, you ain't gonna hang out in here all day, are ya? Let's go watch some cars, or whatever it is you do for fun."

"Not as much fun a starin' in pet-store windows?" Brian suggested innocently.

"Yeah, shuddup," José muttered, whacking playfully at Brian and accidentally jarring the kitten now wound around his shoulders, who let out an indignant meow.

On their way out of Hidalgo's, Brian watched his companion's fingers suspiciously. Sure enough, they subtly brushed the pocket of a teenage boy loitering near the door, probably waiting for someone. When the two of them emerged into the harsh August sunlight, causing Brian to blink furiously after the dimness of the bar, José opened his fingers to examine with satisfaction a small pile of coins and a wad of bills. Brian found himself frowning disapprovingly and whistling admiringly at the same time. You didn't have to know José for long to discover that he stole anything that wasn't nailed down. Mark had always lectured Brian against stealing; had always lectured him against almost anything remotely immoral you could name; but somehow José was different. He could manage to break the law hundreds of times and still retain an aura of cheerful innocence that made Brian feel comfortable around him. He'd once confided that the school counselor, to whom he had been sent on numerous occasions after swiping things from teachers' desks or fellow students' backpacks, said he had some kind of disorder called kleptomania. Brian could relate to that well enough. That same counselor (to whom he had been sent on his first day of kindergarten, after the teacher watched five minutes of his relentless twitching), said he had a disorder too; something he could remember only by four initials, ADHD.

If only Dr. Rollie could see me now!

Brian had to laugh at the thought, for he and José had arrived at the highway, and his hands and feet jumped into their usual "car alert" mode, wiggling and shuffling and shaking and generally causing an energetic physical disturbance. Brian shot one pleading look at his friend, who grinned and nodded. José then sat down on the curb and plucked a terrified kitten off his head, grasping it tightly and protectively out of respect for the roaring traffic, and stroking it soothingly. Brian was not there to witness this, however; he had taken off a split second after that nod of permission, tearing around like there was a host of ghosts and goblins and gangsters on his heels.

His tactics had evolved over the past year. He was always inventing games to play with the passing cars. His latest one was to pace himself as he scouted out the highway, jogging just slowly enough to allow himself to watch every vehicle like a hawk. He would wait for something really special; sometimes he even fixed a specific model in his mind, just to make the chances lower, and the subsequent appearance of a specimen, if there was one, more exciting. If he eventually did spot his treasure, he would let loose every ounce of speed he possessed and dash head-long after it, chasing it as far down the highway as he could, until the car turned or there really wasn't a speck of energy left in him. It was an exhausting game, but that was the kind he liked best; he would have gone out for sports if he wasn't so small, and stuck with certain social issues, for obvious reasons. People might not dare say anything to his face these days, because of Mark and the Gang and all, but behind his back was a different story. It was one of the reasons he hated school and often skipped; that and the absurd requirement of sitting still for such cruelly long periods of time.

Quite a bit of time elapsed without Brian noticing. The shadows were just lengthening, heralding the twilight that would melt into a lazy Texas night, when he lost sight of a breathtaking jade-green Testarossa Ferrari. (Lep...that was for you, and you know it. ^_^ Happy now?) His fingers made their final feeble grasp into the distance. If truth be told, he was almost in tears. So perfect had the car been in his eyes that he had actually imagined himself performing a flying leap through the air, diving in through the open window, overpowering the driver, and taking off in the Ferrari himself. Such fantasies, though laughable, were hardly new to him. The wistful image still floated through his mind as he made his unusually slow way back down the highway. He was startled out of his daydream, however, when he reached the spot where he had left José and his kitten; there they remained, but they were no longer alone.

Sequestered in shadow, only a few feet down the curb, Brian had as good a view of the newcomer as could be expected in the fading light. It was a boy, he saw, around ten like José; yet he seemed older somehow. He wasn't any larger; indeed, he was quite a bit shorter, and very thin. The eerie blue half-light showed a shock of black hair, and piercingly blue eyes in a ghostly pale face. Shivering despite the heat, Brian felt a slight unease at those odd unblinking eyes, though it was coupled with a twinge of recognition. He couldn't recall a name, but this was another of the tag-alongs from the Gang. He had clearly just arrived on the curb, and began to speak to José in a soft, light voice. José listened intently; both obviously had no idea that Brian was within earshot.

"I figured you might be down here with the kid. What'd you tell him?"

José shrugged a bit uneasily. "What Mark told me to."

The other boy's gaze seemed to sharpen slightly. "Why?"

"What else was I s'posta tell him?" The familiar Spanish accent took on a frustrated tone that Brian had never heard in it before. "What are you doin' here, anyway? They ain't all back, are they?"

Now it was the second boy's turn to shift uncomfortably. "Nah...I left. It was gettin' to be a bit much, even for me." Something almost resembling a grim smirk, if there was such a thing, drifted across his face. Abruptly, he spoke again, his tone slightly louder and more businesslike.

"He still off chasin' cars?"

José glanced down the highway, and Brian shrank further into the shadows. To his relief, José nodded. "Yeah, guess so. He's been at it a while now."

"You can go back...I'll walk him home, if you want."

There was a pause.

"What? You don't trust me?" the boy asked pleasantly. "The kid an' I'll get along just fine. Common interest, y'know?" Brian could just make out the grin that preceded his next three simple words. "He likes cars."

"Yeah," José answered promptly, sighing and adjusting the furry bundle in his arms before turning reluctantly to head back to town. "That's what I'm afraid of."

While José was disappearing into the distance, Brian took the opportunity to silently creep back down the curb, keeping his eyes firmly locked to the passing traffic. Mind still spinning with all he had heard, struggling to make sense of it, he counted to twenty in his head, then darted back toward the spot where he had just been spying. When he arrived, the creepy-eyed kid was waiting for him.

"Hey," he greeted cheerfully. "Brian, right?" Brian nodded. "I've been waitin' for ya; José went back, and I said I'd walk you home. You know who I am?"

Brian shook his head. The boy grinned.

"Alex. From the Gang." A gang wannabe, at your age, Brian corrected, but did not issue the statement aloud out of his respect for his own health. All he said was, "Hey."

"So," Alex asked conversationally as they left their highway and headed in the direction of the apartment complex where Brian's family lived, "how'd the cars look tonight?"

"Not bad," Brian admitted. "Real good, actually. I saw a Ferrari, wouldja believe it? Real beauty. But that's nothin', I could swear I saw a Jaguar last week! Mighta been somethin' else, though. Last year I wanted an Eclipse. This girl I knows says everyone wants an Eclipse at some point. Real nice car, anyway. I really think they should lower the drivin' age, don't you? Okay, maybe not to eight, exactly, but--"

He stopped quite suddenly, turning the color of ketchup. He'd done it again. This Alex kid had just had to ask him about cars, and of course that stupid mouth of his had to take off of its own accord, and now...he slowly turned his head, dreading the inevitable mocking stare.

But Alex wasn't even looking at him. He was watching the sidewalk intently, carefully stepping over every crack, as if he believed the old rhyme about breaking your mother's back. Yet his eyes were alert and proclaimed that he had listened to every word. Now he raised them and did turn them to Brian, and they held something the younger boy had certainly never expected: something like recognition, even respect.

"How old didja say you are, kid?"

"Eight," Brian replied, blinking.

Alex nodded thoughtfully. "Well...'s'a bit too young, I guess," he murmured regretfully, as if talking to himself. "Just a bit...but maybe next year..."

"Um?" At this puzzled query, Alex seemed to remember his companion's existence. It was also then that they arrived at the familiar, slightly dilapidated building, a few rooms of which Brian called home. They both paused at the door, and a slow, mildly disturbing grin spread over Alex's face.

"Kid," he announced, "you an' me should hang out more often. An' let me tell you somethin'. Next year...when you're nine...I'm gonna show you how to do somethin' I think you'll be real good at." He sobered slightly. "That is, if we're both still alive then."

Brian, who had been uneasily wondering what on earth Alex could intend to teach him, was startled into uncertain laughter by this last statement. He stopped when Alex didn't join in. "Still alive?" he echoed incredulously. "Why wouldn't we be?"

Alex shrugged philosophically and turned away. "You never know what'll happen," he tossed cryptically over his shoulder before melting into the darkness, "when you're involved with the Gang."