Rumble Fish

"We'll be there," Smokey said. He stared at me with those funny, colorless eyes that gave him his nickname. "But let's try an' keep it between you two, okay?"

I couldn't say anything because I was too mad. I walked out and slammed the door behind me. In about five seconds I heard footsteps behind me and I didn't turn around because I knew it'd be Steve.

"What's the matter with you?" he said.

"Give me a cigarette."

"You know I don't have any cigarettes."

"Yeah, I forgot."

I hunted around and found one in my shirt pocket.

"What's wrong?" Steve asked again.

"Nothin's wrong."

"Is it the Motorcycle Boy being gone?"

"Don't start in on me," I said. He kept quiet for a few minutes. He'd pestered me once before when he shouldn't of and I'd punched the wind out of him. I was real sorry about that, but it wasn't my fault. He should have known better than to pester me when I'm mad.

Finally he said, "Slow down, willya? You're running my legs off."

I stopped. We were on the bridge, right where the Motorcycle Boy used to stop to watch the water. I threw my cigarette butt into the river. It was so full of trash that a little more wasn't going to hurt it any.

"You've been acting funny ever since the Motorcycle Boy left."

"He's been gone before," I said. I get mad quick, and I get over it quick.

"Not for this long."

"Two weeks. That ain't long."

"Maybe he's gone for good."

"Shut up, willya," I said. I closed my eyes. I'd been out till four in the morning the night before and I was kind of tired.

"This is a crummy neighborhood," Steve said suddenly.

"It ain't the slums," I told him, keeping my eyes shut. "There's worse places."

"I didn't say it was the slums. I said it was a crummy neighborhood, and it is."

"If you don't like it, move."

"I am. Someday I am."

I quit listening. I don't see any sense in thinking about things far off in the future.

"You have to face the fact that the Motorcycle Boy may be gone for good."

"I don't have to face nothin'," I said tiredly.

He sighed and stared down at the river.

I saw a rabbit once at the zoo. My old man took me there on the bus a long time ago. I really liked that zoo. I tried to go again by myself, but I was a little kid and I got lost when I had to change buses. I never did get around to trying to get there again. But I remembered it pretty good. The animals reminded me of people. Steve looked like a rabbit. He had dark-blond hair and dark-brown eyes and a face like a real sincere rabbit. He was smarter than me. I ain't never been a particularly smart person. But I get along all right.

I wondered why Steve was my best friend. I let him hang around and kept people from beating him up and listened to all his worries. God, did that kid worry about things! I did all that for him and sometimes he did my math homework and let me copy his history stuff, so I never flunked a grade. But I didn't care about flunking, so that wasn't why he was my best friend. Maybe it was because I had known him longer than I'd known anybody I wasn't related to. For a tough kid I had a bad habit of getting attached to people.

3

When Steve had to go home I went over to my girl friend's place. I knew she'd be home because her mother was a nurse and worked nights and Patty had to take care of her little brothers.

"I'm not supposed to have company when Mother's out." She stood there blocking the doorway, not making a move to let me in.

"Since when?"

"Since a long time ago."

"Well, that ain't stopped you before," I said. She was mad about something. She wanted to start a fight. She wasn't mad about me coming over when I wasn't supposed to, but that was what she wanted to fight about. It seemed like whenever we had fights it was never over what she was mad about.

"I haven't seen you in a long time," she said coldly.

"I been busy."

"So I heard."

"Aw, come on," I said. "Let's talk about it inside."

She looked at me for a long time, then held the door open. I knew she would. She was crazy about me.

We sat and watched TV for a while. Patty's little brothers took turns jumping up and down on the only other chair in the room.

"What were you busy with?"

"Nothin'. Messin' around. Me and Smokey and his cousin went to the lake."

"Oh, yeah? Did you take any girls with you?"

"What're you talkin' about, take any girls? No."

"Okay," she said, settling down in my arms. When we started making out, one of the brats started yelling, "I'm gonna tell Mama," until I promised to knock his block off. But after that I just sat there holding her and sometimes kissed the top of her hair. She had blond hair with dark roots. I like blond girls. I don't care how they get that way.

"Rusty-James," she said.

I jumped. "Was I asleep?"

The room was dark, except for the black-and-white glare from the TV.

"Is it morning or night?" I was confused. I still felt like I was asleep or something.

"Night. Boy, you've been great company."

I felt shivery. Then I remembered.

"What time is it?"

"Seven thirty."

"Hell," I said, getting up. "I'm supposed to fight Biff Wilcox at eight. You got anything to drink around here?"

I went into the kitchen and hunted through her refrigerator. I found a can of beer and gulped it down.

"Now Mama'll think I drank it. Thanks a lot." She sounded like she was going to cry.

"What's the matter, honey?" I said.

"You said you were going to quit fighting all the time."

"Since when?"

"Since you beat up Skip Handly. You promised me you wouldn't be fighting all

the time."

"Oh, yeah. Well, this ain't all the time. This is just once."

"You always say that." She was crying. I backed her up against the wall and hugged her awhile.

"Love you, babe," I said, and turned her loose.

"I wish you wouldn't fight all the time." She wasn't crying anymore. She could quit crying the easiest of any girl I knew.

"Well, what about you?" I asked. "You took after Judy McGee with a busted pop bottle not too long ago."

"She was flirting with you," she said. Patty was a hellcat sometimes.

"Ain't my fault," I said. I grabbed my jacket on the way to the door. I stopped and gave her a good long kiss. Pretty little thing, she looked like a dandelion with her hair messed up.

"Be careful," she said. "I love you."

I waved good-bye and jumped off the porch. I thought maybe I'd have time to stop by my place and have a good swig of wine, but going by Benny's I saw everybody waiting around for me, so I went in.

There were more people there than had been there in the afternoon. I guess word had gotten around.

"We just about give up on you," Smokey said.

"Better watch out or I'll take you on for a warm-up," I warned him. I counted the guys and decided maybe six of them would show up at the lot. I didn't see Steve, but didn't worry about it. He couldn't get out much at night.

"Split up and meet me there," I told them, "or we'll have the cops on our tail."

I left with Smokey and B.J. I felt so good. I love fights. I love how I feel before a fight, kind of high, like I can do anything.

"Slow down," B.J. said. "You'd better be savin' your energy."

"If you wasn't so fat you could keep up."

"Don't start that stuff again," B.J. said. He was fat, but he was tough, too. Tough fat guys ain't as rare as you'd think.

"Man, this is just like the old days, ain't it?" I said.

"I wouldn't know," Smokey said. Fights made him edgy. Before a fight he'd get quieter and quieter, and it always bugged the hell out of him that I'd get louder and louder. We had a funny kind of tension between us anyway. He would have been number-one tough cat in our neighborhood if it wasn't for me. Sometimes I could tell he was thinking about fighting me. So far, either he was scared or wanted to stay friends.

"Yeah," I said, "that's right. It was all over before you got into it."

"Hell, that gang stuff was out of style when you was ten years old, Rusty-James," he told me.