Evil vs. the Angels of Stony Island
by Jim Heaney

“Bobbi is David’s girlfriend now,” I hissed, “and if I was old enough, I’d go away and never come back.” She said,
“I’ll speak with your father, but please be good.” Watching the birds play in the water-filled coffee can, I decided I was going to that party no matter what. I was going to get Bobbi back and fix all of them. When I woke the following Monday, my first thought was about the ice cream in the freezer. I quietly made my way to the kitchen, on the lookout for hostile witnesses along the way. The coast was clear. I slid my spoon into the carton of frozen delight. It was very hard, so I decided to dig at the corners and slide the tip of the box to collect the ice cream as it softened. I tried to keep it even so as to cover my tracks, but after a minute I noticed that I had begun to make a noticeable dent. I returned the carton to the freezer and went into the living room to watch TV. As usual, there was a gangster movie on. From out front came a familiar yell. “Hey, Jimmy! Come out and play!”
I ran onto the front porch. The guys were there on their bikes—Tommy, Billy, and that stinking David. They circled around and around. “When you getting out, Jimmy?” Billy asked.
“Not for another two weeks.” “I don’t know what I would do if it was me,” David said. “you wouldn’t be able to steal someone’s girlfriend,” I shot back. His face went blank and he turned away. That’s was all I needed. I bounded off the porch, wound up and hit him in the face. He hadn’t been expecting a fight and hadn’t covered up. I dragged him off his bike and hit him with a few more punches, throwing him to the ground. He scrambled for a place to hide and I pushed him into the bushes. He fell back, then bounced back up at me like he was on a mattress. I cracked him again, then it was over. He ran down the street, afraid for his life. I picked up his bike and ran it into a tree. When it hit the ground, I jumped up and down on the spokes.
David stood down the street, screaming, “I’m going to tell my mother on you!”
“I’m going to tell my mother on you.” I sang back to him.
“I’m going to tell my mother on you. You sissy, come over here and I’ll really give you something to tell your mother about!” I waved him off and walked back toward the other guys, who had watched the whole thing in disbelief. Tommy stuck his hand out and said, “Atta boy! Give me five on that one.”
Billy had a big smile on his face.
“Man, that was the best. Can we bring over someone else you’ve got something against?”
“You tell him for me that I’ll be out of the house soon and there’s more where that came from. Tell him he better leave Bobbi alone.” My heart was pounding, but I felt important.
“How are all the eighth grade parties going?” I asked Tommy after I calmed down. “Great. All the guys you know are there and the girls, too.” “Are they like football parties?” “Pretty much, except we have a few beers ahead of time.” “No kidding. Are you getting high?” I glanced back down the street at Dave, who was starting to inch his way back. When he was five houses away, I lunged in his direction as if I were going to come after him. He turned and ran the other way. The guys started laughing. It felt great.
“Hey, I might do this every day to him.” I said. They laughed some more as they rode away.

TUESDAY I AWOKE TO THE CLATTER of milk bottles as Mr. Lazar made his deliveries across the street. I rolled out of bed, grabbed my white shorts from my dresser drawer and slid them on. They were getting much harder to zip. Sitting around the house eating all day was catching up with me.

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