One

1957

'Where you going, Tim?' Curly asks, as I stride past our bedroom towards the front door.

'Out.' I snatch up my battered jean jacket, sliding my arms into the sleeves as I carry on walking. Just what I don't need, Curly sticking his big nose in when I'm late already.

Curly trails behind me. 'Can I come?'

'No.' Last thing I need tonight is a dumbass seven year old tagging along with me. I nod towards the sitting room, where our sister Angela is sat cross-legged in the middle of the floor, chattering away to herself as she plays with the doll Dad got her last Christmas and bites into another of the cookies I lifted out the corner shop. 'You need to watch Angela.'

Curly's face scrunches into a scowl. 'But Ma said you had to—'

'No.' I whip around, jab a finger into his chest. 'Ma said I was in charge until she gets home from work. And I'm telling you to watch Ange. Unless thats too difficult, 'cause you're too much of a baby—'

'Shut up! I ain't. But what if Ma comes home early, she'll be real mad at you.'

'She won't. I'll be home long before she gets out of work, so she won't even know unless you blab to her. I promise, I'm not gonna be gone long.' I give him a shove, gentler this time, in her direction as I call out, 'Hey, Angela, Curly wants to play with you.'

'Jerk. I hate you, Tim, she's such a baby,' Curly storms, but its too late Angela's already darted across the room and is tugging at his hand as she hands him a cookie and babbles about whatever thing she needs him to do.

As the two of them bicker over what exactly they're going to play, I slip out the door into the cool evening.

I jog down the road in the direction of the park, past Darry Curtis, tossing about a football in the middle of the scrubby patch of grass with their old man as his brothers chase around them, laughing.

I keep my head down and carry on towards where I'm supposed to meet my buddy Nick, hoping they don't spot me. But no such luck, they all turn to stare as Darry's old man throws the football long, sending it skidding across the grass until it finally comes to stop in the gutter a couple feet in front of me.

'You wanna join us, Tim?' Mr Curtis calls out as I grab up their ball, toss it back to Sodapop as he scampers towards me, the little one following in his wake.

I shake my head and carry on walking.

'Everything okay at home, Tim? Haven't seen you around lately.' Mr Curtis asks, one hand lifted to shade his eyes from the evening sunshine as he watches me. 'How's your Momma?'

'Yessir, everything's just fine, Ma's fine,' I parrot, not stopping. 'Only she needs me to get to the store, 'fore it closes.'

'Well alright, another time then, son?' Mr Curtis grins at me, his teeth white against his tanned craggy face. 'And make sure you bring that brother of yours along too, even out the teams.'

'Yessir, another time.'

Well aware his eyes are still on me, I hold my pace until I'm around the corner, then break into a sprint for the length of the next street, before slowing again as I turn onto the road where Nick lives.

'You took your time.' Nick is outside already and waiting for me, leaning against the chain link fence, his dark hair flopping down over his face and hands jammed in his jacket pockets. 'Thought you changed your mind and you weren't gonna come do this.'

'Nah, course not.' I grin at him, as he falls into step with me, hoping I don't look bothered even though I'm feeling more and more on edge with every step. We reach the end of the street, and Nick takes a left.

Ma doesn't out and say it, but I know her job in that crummy bar doesn't barely cover the rent, let alone anything else. Our mail is all bills and final demands, and she looks terrified every time anyone knocks on our door. But instead of doing something about it she just sticks her head in the sand and carries on popping those pills the doctor gave her all day and crying herself to sleep every night.

Dad's been gone a year next month but she still acts like its all a bad dream and he'll come walking back in to fix things any day now. Except this time Dad isn't in jail, he's dead. Same as Uncle Tony, he never came home from Korea. So we're all out of family to help us. Which means it's on me. I have to find some way to help Ma out, something more than lifting the odd tin of soup or packet of cookies to make sure Curly and Ange don't go hungry. Something that'll give me a chance to get some real actual cash.

'Where're we going exactly?' I ask.

'You know that empty warehouse? The vacant lot out the back of there.'

'Hey, new kid, get your ass over here. What's your name?'

The guy is sizing me up—trying to figure me out, I guess—so I shove my hands in my jeans pockets and try to look cool, like I ain't bothered one way or another how this introduction works out. Like I don't need this to go well.

'Shepard. And you are?' I ask, even though I know exactly who he is, even if we haven't ever spoken directly to each other before. Because most everyone around our neighbourhood knows Billy Harris, on account of his reputation as a no-good punk, same as the rest of his family. His old man's a year into a ten stretch in Big Mac, his uncle's bounced back into county and everyone reckons Billy's a sure fire bet to follow in their footsteps. But right now he's the brains behind most of the petty crime on our side of town these days, fancies himself as some kind of gang leader and acts like he can rule our part of town the same way the more established street gangs do over by Tiber Street or out at Brumly.

Harris doesn't even acknowledge my question though, just keeps his eyes trained on me as he throws another query of his own at me instead. 'Got a first name?'

'Tim.'

'So, Tim Shepard, how old are you?'

'Does it matter, if I can do the job as well as any of them can?' I gesture towards the group of boys standing behind him as they watch our conversation unfolding, can see Nick raising his eyebrows before he frowns at me. Probably worried that if this all goes to shit it'll reflect badly on his own standing in the gang—being as he's the one who's brought me along here tonight.

Only this Harris, he chuckles to himself and then offers me a cigarette. I'm not exactly much of a smoker yet, but I spent enough time around the old man and his friends to know how guys like him work; so I slide a cigarette from the pack because it won't be a smart idea to refuse him.

'No, I guess not.' Harris says, still watching me. 'But if you want in my crew then I've got to be sure; I ain't interested in recruiting no little cry babies who'll go running their mouths off to everyone, or bawling to their momma anytime there's a little bit of trouble.'

Jesus, he sure has a high opinion of how tough he is, even though he can't be all that much older than me—I'd say maybe three or four years, tops, if I had to guess.

'I know how to handle myself, keep my mouth shut.' My old man made sure of that—even if teaching me how to throw a punch was pretty much the only useful thing he ever did for me before he died.

'Yeah, I bet you do.' Harris grins at me, but it isn't a friendly smile. 'Only I still need you to answer the question, Shepard. 'Cause to get on around here you've got to understand one thing. I'm the one in charge. So if I ask a question, then you answer. Understand?' He pauses for a second and stares at me, waiting for my response.

I wait as long as I'm prepared to risk it, counting the seconds off in my head while I make a show of pulling some matches from my pocket to light my cigarette before I finally answer him. 'Yeah, I understand.'

'So?' Harris demands, taking a drag on his own smoke as he waits for me to elaborate.

'I'm eleven,' I claim, glad for once to be overly tall and lanky for my age, 'cause it gives me a chance of getting away with the lie even though it won't be my birthday for another six months. But I figure he doesn't need to know that right now; not when from what I've seen so far, I've got to be about the youngest here, 'cause even Nick's had his birthday already this year, plus he's got the added advantage of an automatic conection, what with one of the others being some kind of relations, a second cousin or some shit like that. Bad enough being the new kid, without having my age count against me as well.

'See, that wasnt so hard, was it?' Harris laughs again as he gestures towards two other boys, closer to his own age, who are currently sitting on the low wall at the back of the park. 'Tell you what, new boy, here's the deal. You go with Jones and Richards, do whatever the hell they tell you and if you do a good job then I'll see about bringing you into the gang on a more permanent basis.'

Nodding, I walk away, hurrying my pace to catch up with them as they disappear out onto the sidewalk, chatting and laughing.

'Where are we going?' I ask eventually, butting into their conversation.

Jones looks back at me, and grins. 'You know the liquor store down past the post office? Well, we're gonna go help ourselves to a little of the stock, booze cigarettes, anything we can sell on and make us a few bucks. Maybe see if the old man who runs it is dumb enough to leave any cash in the register too.'

'Yeah?' I ask. 'You got a plan worked out then?'

'Nah, there's no need.' Richards laughs. 'We do shit like this all the time, it's gonna be a piece of cake.'

'Afternoon, Tim.' Billy Harris says, grinning at me as he steps out in front of me as I turn the corner of our street, with Curly on my heels. I wasn't expecting to see Harris here, didn't think he would have the first clue where I live. But I guess he ain't leader for nothing, and it's not like it'd be difficult to find us, on account of us still being the talk of the block, after what happened to Dad last year.

'Go on inside Curly, let Ma know you're home.'

Curly frowns, his bottom lip jutting out. 'But—'

'Just go in. I'll be there in a minute.'

Harris watches Curly trudge away, laughs as he turns towards me. 'So I hear you did good, kid. Until the fuzz turned up, anyway.'

'Yeah?' I jam my hands in my pockets and glare at him, my cheeks reddening as I relive that moment last night when I got grabbed outside the liquor store and manhandled into the back of the waiting patrol car while Jones and Richards disappeared into the shadows. 'No thanks to those other two idiots, running off like a pair of girls and leaving me to take the shit for them.'

Being taken home by the cops sure didn't go down well with Ma. She was still crying and going on at me about it this morning, made me promise I'd come straight home from school. Which is a joke, 'cause half the time she's so out of it she wouldn't even notice if I was sat right next to her.

'So what did you tell them then, when they took you down the station?'

'Nothing.'

I know better than talking to the cops. Dad never would have, would have settled things himself—so I'll bide my time, figure out some way I can use this to my advantage. Eventually.

Harris steps closer, grabs the front of my shirt, his voice low and menacing. 'So how come they let you out so quick then?'

'I dunno; some shit about letting me off with a warning, on account of my age and it being the first time I got caught doing something.' That and that cop Cooper going on about extenuating circumstances, as he gave me that sympathetic smile. Can't stand it, the way they all feel like they understand me, acting like I need their pity because of what happened to Dad.

'You sure about that, Shepard?' He tightens his grip on me, pushes me back towards the wall. 'That you didn't go spilling everything to them while you were there? None of us boys are gonna get the cops coming round asking questions are we? 'Cause if I find out you grassed any one of us up then your life ain't gonna be worth living. Understand?'

'Yeah, I'm sure, I ain't no snitch,' I snap, twisting out of his hold and shoving his hand away from me. 'But you know what, if you don't believe me then that's your problem. I ain't hanging around to be called no liar. See you around, Bill.' And I don't wait for a reply, just turn and saunter away from him as calmly as I can muster—even though I know it's a gamble, that if he takes me at my word and cuts me off from this gang then I'm not sure where I'll fit in around here, or do what I need for my family.

I'm almost on the other side of the street—and convinced I've made the wrong choice—when he's calling out to me, 'Hey, kid, relax. So d'you want to earn some easy money, being as you missed out on pocketing anything last night?'

Shrugging, I turn to look at him. 'Maybe. So long as I don't get stuck with them two idiots again.'

'Nah,' Billy says, cracking a grin at me, 'this time you can come help me with something.'

A/N: So I wasn't going to start anything new until I'd finished my other ongoing story, but writing Tim with his son made me want to revisit a younger Tim, so here I am with this look at how Tim starts on the path which leads to him becoming the gang leader we meet in the book. I hope you liked it - I'd love to know what you think :)