Susan Hinton - Rumble Fish

He was scared it was going to end up in a gang fight. There hadn’t been a real honest-to-goodness gang fight around here in years. As far as I knew, Steve had never been in one. I could never understand people being scared of things they didn’t know nothing about.

“You don’t have to be there,” I said. Everybody else had to be there to protect their rep. Steve didn’t have any rep. He was my best friend. That was his rep.

“You know I’m gonna be there,” he said to me angrily. “But you know what the Motorcycle Boy said about gang—”

“He ain’t here,” I said. “He ain’t been here for two weeks. So don’t go tellin’ me about the Motorcycle Boy.”

B.J. spoke up. “But even back when we was rumblin’, we never fought Biff’s gang. They was allies. Remember when Wilson got jumped over on the Tigers’ turf…”

This started a discussion on who had been jumped, when and where and why. I didn’t need to think about that — I had all those records straight in my head anyway. But I did need to think about how I was going to fight Biff, so I wasn’t listening much when somebody said, “Anyway, when the Motorcycle Boy gets back—”

I jumped up and slammed my fist down on the table so hard, the table in the next booth rattled and Benny stopped whistling and making his sandwich. Everybody else sat like they was holding their breath.

“The Motorcycle Boy ain’t back,” I said. I can’t see good when I get mad, and my voice was shaking. “I don’t know when he’s comin’ back, if he’s comin’ back. So if you wanna wait around the rest of your life to see what he says, okay. But I’m gonna stomp Biff Wilcox’s guts tonight, and I think I oughta have some friends there.”

“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.

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.”