Out of the Courts

It was too quiet. From his bedroom, for the few hours he spent there, he couldn’t hear a pin drop for all of the noise. If it wasn’t friends trying to get his attention from his window then it was traffic, drag racing, late-night parties, arguing neighbours, dogs and cats fighting and wailing babies. One time he even heard a car crash. Squealing tires had preceded metal caving and breaking then a blast, even louder than a gun firing. Turned out the car was going fast enough that when it hit a fire hydrant a cap broke off, causing the sidewalk to be flooded to sea-sized proportions.

This time he could hear cars but they were further away and not as frequent. The next thing he recognised was creaking floorboards and retreating voices. Never before had he received such courtesies. Curiosity got the better of him. He sat up from his bed, opening his eyes in hope to find out who was being so polite to be quiet.

A throbbing pain in the back of his head was more pressing. Biting back an audible wince he fought to remember why he was hurting.

Oh yeah, the attack.

Ice had heard about a situation with some sixth graders that he repeated to him. The kids had been shooting hoops at the court when they were forced to quit their game on account of a stolen ball.

“I fail to see what the problem is,” he remarked around his cigarette. Kids stole each others’ basketballs all the time, this was nothing to get worked up over.

“It’s happened four days in a row now.” He kept smoking, uninterested, but Ice was waiting to drop the clincher. “The Emeralds are behind it.”

He nearly took a bite out of his smoke. “What the hell? They’re picking on kids. . . seven years younger than themselves!”

“That’s part of the problem. They’re trying to claim Jets territory.” Ice continued to watch the court, a three-on-three game playing, but no one else was around. He nearly looked disappointed for the uneventful afternoon. “It’s always the same guys, the kids know them well. Based off their descriptions the guys are Jade, Grass and Forest. The kids have tried changing the time of their game but they show up no matter what. I’m going to hide out tonight to catch them.”

“Take Tony with you.” This was now in his interest. Yeah, he wasn’t about to lose his stomping grounds to some greenies, but going after eleven-year-olds? That was way below the belt.

“He’s working tonight.”

The sure sign of a great leader was the ability to delegate. “Take Action then.”

“He doesn’t know the first thing about hiding. He’s always talking.”

He and Ice went through all of their guys but it quickly became obvious that no one could do the job. Through one reason or another the boys were eliminated by faults: too young, not enough stealth, no fighting experience, a runner instead of a fighter. The list got shorter and by the time that they were down to two he realised what he had to do.

He would go with Ice. Jade, Grass and Forest were easy pickings, they could handle the three of them on their own. They’d send them retreating with their shamrocks between their legs, in a manner of speaking of course.

Returning to the court like they agreed, three hours later, him coming from the opposite direction as Beta, ten minutes later than Ice to avoid being spotted, Riff had his eyes peeled, on the lookout for anything even the slightest bit out of place. Treading softly, keeping to the shadows, he could hear the familiar rhythmic sound of rubber hitting pavement. It got louder the closer he got to the playground. The familiar sound, steady like a marching drum sending soldiers to war, had his pulse beating in time, anticipating to put the Emeralds back into their place.

That’s when things got hazy, something blunt and heavy smashing against the back of his head. He staggered forward, tripping to the ground but not without his feet tangling with whoever it was who had the nerve to tail him, bringing him down with him.

“Time for the Jets to have their wings clipped.” Another blow, the same shape and force, came down between his shoulder blades before he managed to twist onto his back. He managed to get a hold of his attacker’s arms, stopping another blow from landing to his face. The haze loomed above him, appropriate for how he was dazed, but features of the face above him started to piece together. He snorted in disbelief when he realised just how true the distortion was to reality. A blond head of curls and a smug righteous expression moved in closer, blocking out the streetlights to enclose him in darkness.

“Cloud, you – asshole.” Struggling to stay conscious he swung his fist up. By some miracle it connected with Cloud’s cheek, not as hard as it could have been but enough for Cloud to recoil with a snarl. Riff’s victory was short-lived, a kick coming in from behind, striking him hard to the top of his shoulder. The giggle that accompanied it made it known that his second assailant was Jade.

The first three strikes were memorable, the rest bending and blurring into an assault that he couldn’t fend off. He tried to but he could barely move his arms, more a result of the strike to his head than the actual kicks and punches that rained down on him. His brain wanting to shut down he had all but closed his eyes, twisting face and body to the pavement when he heard a pained shout that wasn’t his own.

He caught a glimpse of Ice ducking an attack from Forest, attempting to tackle him from behind but overshooting, but a foot slammed into the back of his head, preventing him from seeing anything more. Cheek scraping on the cracked pavement he was finally down for the count, mottled black turning into an empty void that he woke from only two minutes ago.

Gingerly touching the back of his head his fingers didn’t find a sticky mess like he expected. His hair was matted but from soap and water used to wash the cut he could just feel under his fingertips. He should have been in more pain but he wasn’t complaining for the minor aches that he was experiencing. Back, legs and arms ached, most likely from curling in on himself to protect his front. Aside from the cut over his cheek his face was injury-free. He carefully turned onto his side, not wanting to provoke his injuries any further, before pressing his ear and unharmed cheek against the pillow. When it barely gave under his face he tensed up, only just taking in his surroundings for the first time.

This wasn’t his bedroom. It wasn’t just for the hard pillow and the furnishings that he didn’t recognise but also the stirring from behind him, making the mattress shift. Last time he checked he didn’t have a bedmate.

Moving carefully yet again, sitting up before settling onto his other side, he stared at the back of his friend. At least he was pretty sure it was him, hard to tell from dark hair trimmed neat around his neck and ears. Most of the time it was Ice watching his back. Had he ever seen his back before he wouldn’t have been surprised by the numerous scars, varying in sizes, short and long, thick and thin, faded from age, though just how old all of them were he couldn’t tell. One hadn’t had time to scar, bandaged along the edge of his shoulder blade, blood soaking the gauze through.

“’S your head feeling any better?”

He expected him to be sleeping too but the question stopped outstretched fingers short. The shock of Ice’s sleepy voice had him jolting back, snagging the blanket to keep from falling out of the bed. Once his heart wasn’t racing he managed a weak laugh. Some tough guy he was, scared by his not-sleeping friend. “It’s still on my neck, which means it feels great to me.”

“Not even a little bit sore?” Ice asked, twisting his head a bit, perhaps catching sight of him from the corner of his eye.

“A lot of sore,” Riff corrected, grinning at the slightest squint of Ice’s eye, the closest he could tell that he was smiling too. “Were you sleeping?”

“Up until you started doing your acrobatic routine.” With anyone else even the smallest amount of inflection would have been detected, making such a comment a teasing remark. There was no such humour in Ice’s words but it didn’t make it a dig either. It was just Ice being his usual self, humour, malice, and even concerns hidden under a calm face and voice.

It had Riff purposely jostling the mattress again, though that also brought him rolling onto his back, bump and cut coming down painfully on the pillow. He quickly righted himself, balanced on his side, hand coming up to steady his head so his tender cheek wouldn’t hit the pillow. “I should have been using it at the park. Speaking of – what exactly happened? Obviously this wasn’t just the Emeralds picking on little kids. It was as though they were expecting something to happen. I was ambushed by Cloud.” Admitting that aloud had shame staining every inch of him, inside and out, a feeling that he rarely got to encounter but when he did he wanted to clean it off immediately.

It was as though Ice knew better to turn and face him, not to acknowledge the base emotion. It would have been easier to talk to each other facing each other, to reassure and hear each other better but Ice’s voice was clear in the quiet room. “I started to suspect that when I was walking there. Street life, nothing is as it seems, there had to be a hidden motive. My guess is that they were waiting for us to take action, sticking up for the kids. They were taking a risk, hoping that someone important would come along and not just one of other guys.”

“Yeah, they got us instead.” They got him was more accurate, Cloud and Jade jumping him, but he couldn’t say if Grass and joined in at the end. He couldn’t remember all of the details, and trying to remember made his head hurt even more. “It was just the four of them, right?”

“By the looks of it. I found Jade, Grass and Forest inside, thought I’d try reasoning with them first. Grass took a swing at me so I quickly changed my tactic. As for Cloud he must have been over-seeing the operation. He would need to make sure the boys wouldn’t be disturbed from their over-all goal. Since there are two routes into the playground he had to take a guess on which way to come in. The front way is too obvious, too big a chance of being seen so he stuck around in the back.” It all made sense to Riff, it was common approach to anyone accustomed to urban warfare. He used similar ploys himself to varying degrees of success, most in the successful range. “Cloud must have been excited to see you come in of all people. He could take you down and add the playground to Emerald territory.”

“He ain’t won yet. He might’ve got me this time but I’ll be waiting on his ass for payback,” Riff declared, pitch rising with determination. “We’ll definitely need more people for next time, make sure that Tony’s working with us. We’ll come up to the courts, stealth-bombers, and. . . wait. How did we get out of there if I was unconscious? They gave up on us once we were both unconscious? And where are we now?”

He shifted backwards a bit when Ice started to move. He might have not been flinching in pain but for the bruises starting to form over his front he could have been. More scars came into view when the others moved out of sight, though never out of mind. Riff kept from staring, instead preparing himself for the explanation that Ice was starting.

“I gave Grass and Forest more bruises than they gave me but they didn’t actually knock me unconscious. It took Forest and Jade to knock me down and all four of them had to hold me when Cloud got me in the back.” Judging by how Ice’s shoulder twitched into the mattress he wasn’t happy to admit that aloud too. “We were all just pushing and pulling, me getting most of the punches, but somehow I eventually managed to knock them off. It must have been exhaustion because none of us could really see straight or keep a hold for long. Cloud lost his grip on his switchblade but I managed to grab it before anyone else.”

Riff’s need for revenge lessened, only slightly, hope coming up in its place. “You sliced him back?”

“Even worse.” Ice’s lips only formed words, his eyes smirking in their place. “I gave the vain sucker a haircut.”

“He must have been pissed.” It might have been Ice’s victory but Riff couldn’t help but crow, grinning and laughing. “He’s not a cherub anymore.”

“He was left with several large patches,” Ice admitted, more than happy to let Riff celebrate. “Above both ears, right down the top of his head, and part of the back of his head. I also gave him a shallow cut across his cheek to convince him that losing hair would be the least of his concerns if he decided that they needed to claim the playground in the Emeralds’ name again.”

“What did he say to that?” Riff had visions of a shaved version of a halo encircling Cloud’s head but he knew he needed to stay focussed, learn everything there was about the rumble.

“Well - nothing really,” Ice admitted, not really moving but his eyes darted down to the blanket. “I let him get up but all he did was spit and run off, the other three joining him. I didn’t follow to see where they were going. I needed to check on you. I thought you were unconscious since you weren’t moving so I brought you to Doc’s – here.”

“Doc’s. . .” He only knew the drugstore as their hangout, tables set up in the back and the basement for storing merchandise from the latest shipment. Judging by the window across the room, looking to rooftops on the other side of the street, they had to be on a second floor. Riff knew there was a second floor but had always figured it wasn’t in use. “He and Tony wouldn’t have been happy to see us.”

“I waited outside until Doc was closing. Tony left first but I waited until he was out of sight before coming up to the door. When Doc saw me carrying you on my back he let me in but not without a lecture,” Ice mentioned but it was both of them smirking at the familiar routine of the shop owner. “He did insist on taking care of both of us, not that I needed it.”

Riff raised his eyebrows. “You were stabbed.”

“It was just a cut.” Ice didn’t sound particularly defensive but unwavering nonetheless.

“A big cut that’s still bleeding,” Riff countered, not taking any excuses. “If I don’t believe you than Doc wouldn’t believe you either.”

“Apparently.” Snorting under his breath, Ice shook his head. Sleep and a second pillow had helped to rub out hair gel, leaving his bangs to hang in his eyes. “He told me to bring you upstairs and onto the bed. He came up a minute later with a few supplies to clean up your head but gave me a glass of water to drink. He was saying something about losing blood and needing to stay hydrated but he must have put something extra in the water because I was out cold in less than two.”

That would explain why they were sharing the bed. It also explained the bandage. Doc took time to tend to Ice’s wound after he was done taking care of him. They both owed the man big time. “Were we followed?”

“Nah, I came here through the alleys. With you hanging off my back we would have been spotted from a mile away.” It was Riff’s turn to snort, imagining their silhouette to create the shape of a hunchback, albeit a tall and good looking one. “He also told me to tell you once you woke up that we should sleep here for the night. Whoever we had pissed off would likely go around searching for us.”

“Wise man.” He mumbled it into his finger, his hand sliding a bit to help keep his head up. Damn his head for trying to make him fall back asleep. “Did he say what time he wants us out at?”

“Didn’t say.” Ice looked just as tired as he felt but he managed to keep his eyes wider, an unfair fact considering that he had done all the work, fighting, managing to drive the Emeralds off and hauling their asses to the drugstore. “I figure if we’re not out when he gets here he’ll boot us out.”

“That sounds about right.” His brain was closer to sleeping, even his limbs heavy, ready to sink back into the mattress as they were currently arranged, but his hand decided to sleepwalk, sweeping over the blanket between them to gesture to Ice’s stomach where two scars happened to form an x. “But this – these – all look wrong.”

Ice didn’t expect the change in conversation, self-consciousness chasing over his features before he regained his composure, matter of fact from recounting the evening. “Well, yeah, they are.”

Ice didn’t flinch when his fingers swept over the x. “I’ve never seen you lose a fight,” Riff murmured wonderingly.

“I used to.” There was a firm tone to the correction that would have stopped most people from saying anything else. Riff didn’t, pressing on. Close friends such as Ice didn’t get off so easy, not when he had a feeling that this was something important.

“They look pretty old,” he continued, letting his eyes study the rest of the scars scattered over his torso, faded from age but still visible under close scrutiny.

Ice’s voice only softened a little, not ready to give in to the questioning but knowing that it would be imminent. “Yeah.”

“How did you get them?” A few of the scars looked like they might have been from a blade of some sort but most of them were undistinguishable, misshapen or jagged rather than a clear cut. Rather than answer Ice rolled away, settling back onto his side. This wasn’t a meeting where he expected everyone to listen to what he said and do as he decided but he still required an answer. “Damnit Ice, I asked how you got them.”

“They’re not from any rumble, if that’s what you’re concerned about.” The thought had crossed his mind but the scars didn’t resemble any weapon he was accustomed to which took the idea out of his mind as fast as it had entered.

“You said they are old.” A different approach was needed to get Ice to elaborate any further. “How old were you when you got them?” All Riff got was a shrugged shoulder. The way the bandage moved over the wound seemed to aggravate it, a little rivulet of blood snaking down from an edge that wasn’t entirely taped to his skin. “How old were you when you got your first scar?”

There was no more shrugging. The way that Ice’s shoulders tensed up Riff thought that he would just injure himself further. Most definitely he wouldn’t be answering which was made obvious after a long stretch of silence. Grudgingly he lowered himself to the pillow. It was better worth his time sleeping than waiting on something needlessly.

“Four.”

“What?” Eyes wide to the back of Ice’s head, Riff understood the response but his mind was jumping ahead to process the implications. A four year old kid didn’t wander the streets at night and Ice had already said that it wasn’t from a rumble. Perhaps another kid had hit him once or twice but no preschooler had the strength needed to scar another. In fact if there was fighting between kids an adult would have put a stop to it pretty quick. If no one had stopped the attack, and by the looks of it no one did, that meant that everyone else would have been too scared to. So it had to be someone dangerous, someone respected or close to Ice and his loved ones. How many loved ones did a four year old have?

However many family members he had.

“Shit,” Riff mumbled, taking in the scars all over again. He wanted to touch the nearest one but balled his hand into a fist before he could do that. “Which. . . who did this to you? Your mom or your dad?”

“My dad.” The words were muffled by the pillow but Riff could just make them out.

He started to climb over Ice, needing to look at him again, but he hadn’t expected Ice to roll onto his back. Riff eased back, kneeling on either side of Ice’s knees. “Why did he go about doing that?”

“He had expectations of what we were supposed to do. I would have gotten the same treatment in time but at first I was too young. Instead he would beat up my sister and mum. They. . . didn’t provoke him, at least intentionally. I swear, he was like a possessed man, he believed that everyone was taunting him, slighting him at every turn.” Ice’s face might have appeared impassive but he could read his tone, not recognising it at first but soon realising that he was struggling to not be bitter. “Eventually, one time when he did go after my sister, I jumped in the way. I got his belt to my face instead. I tried kicking and hitting him but he just laughed and struck me back until I was exhausted from our efforts, mine all good for nothing, leaving me aching from his hands and buckle.”

His stomach tightened and sunk at the same time. “So he just kept on beating you.”

“It was better me than him beating my mum and Evie – my sister. Ya know, it’s easier to believe a boy having bruises for just being a boy, doing stuff that will get himself hurt all the time. There’s only so many ways a girl and a woman can explain bruises away,” Ice reasoned, gingerly shifting his weight so that he was lying down, shoulder into the blanket. “And he never had to apologise to me. He was free to use me to take out his aggressions whenever he wanted, whether I was defending them or doing something to distract him from them.”

“So he just used his fists on you? And his belt?” Without realising it he had sat on his heels but otherwise he hadn’t moved, so it didn’t take much to gesture his hand out to the various scars that started on his stomach, going as high as his chest.

“He used anything he could get his hands on – kitchen knives, a bottle or three. He used a screwdriver several times too, though this one was a pipe that busted their bedroom window.” He pointed to one that crossed from close to his right armpit and down and across to mid-chest. “He blamed it on me, even though I wasn’t at all responsible for it. I found the window broken when I got back from school. The point is. . . there’s nothing I can do about it now. There was nothing I could do about it then. You’d think my mum would have been happy that I was trying to protect them but she was pissed. She didn’t want me to get him so angry that he would leave and never come back. He earned the money for the family after all.”

“What did she expect you to do?” Riff asked, shaking his head incredulously. At least for his family problems he didn’t have a mental case for a mother and father. “She wanted you to take the punches and not make a fuss? Not tell anyone about it?”

“I tried telling Krupke when I was eight years old, but he just taunted me.” Nodding in understanding, certainly knowing that the officer was no friend to anyone at any time ever, Riff found himself looking down into Ice’s gaze. Without words they both could feel the derision that they each had to that particular arm of the law. “Said I must’ve had a broken home if I had nothing better to do than tail a cop. As right as he was he said that I deserved it. “A family needs to be kept in order by a strong fist” was what he said. But my dad liked it when I tried to fight back. The only problem was that as I got older I got wise to his old time moves. I learned to fight the way I do now because of him. I suppose that’s one thing I’m grateful of because of him. I learned how to fight, when to stay quiet, when to speak up and when to stand back and observe.”

“I wouldn’t be grateful for anything like that,” Riff remarked, exhaling roughly. Ice might have been blasé over the past but he was going through all the anger for him, fingers tense at his sides. “What about Evie? She must have appreciated what you did for her.”

“She appreciated me for as long as she needed me around. She was five years older than me. Her friends were surprised when she said she was going off to university but I wasn’t, I knew she was eager to get away from us.” His hand drifted away from his chest, settling comfortably on his stomach. “I was a violent boy bred from a violent man. I was only useful for when I was protecting her. When I needed her help, she was never around or just gave excuses.”

Riff dragged his fingers through his hair, careful to avoid the bump further back. “How can you be so indifferent to this? I’m pissed for you.”

“You learn how to give up on caring after a while. Ten years is a long time when you think about it,” Ice pointed out, making a point of shrugging his uninjured shoulder.

“Over ten years,” Riff corrected, only to drop his hand to his side. Incidentally it hit Ice’s knee though neither one noticed it. “How did you manage to get through all of this and not go crazy yourself?”

“I don’t know. I’m pretty sure everyone else thought I was crazy. At school I was the quiet kid who was always covered in bruises. Even when I got older and I learned to defend myself, keeping the bruises off of my face and arms, everyone remembered who I used to be and continued to steer clear of me. It didn’t help that Evie liked to make me out to be this angry kid.” He glanced up past Riff, looking at the ceiling, not that it was all that interesting. It was probably easier looking at it, unaffected by his words when Riff felt as though he was a wounded unpopular kid. “It wasn’t until high school that I managed to get out from under one shadow. I wasn’t popular but at least I wasn’t alone.”

“Yeah.” Despite the depressing tale Riff managed to perk up a little, nudging Ice playfully. “That’s when you ran into me.”

“It was more like you ran into me,” Ice reminded, smiling faintly at the memory. “I never knew that the kid those guys were picking on was Graziella’s little brother.”

“And I was all too grateful for your help. It helped me to win her over.” The smile lingered on Ice’s face. Seeing that rather than the sombre demeanour that he maintained when telling him about his family Riff kept talking, wanting to keep that smile out for as long as possible. “Your mom and sister are blind. You might be the best man to have ever had two fists but you’re a good guy, an upstanding citizen, a Good Samaritan. You look out for everyone, including eleven year olds. You even put up with all the girls when they come around looking for someone to complain too. You let them go on for as long as they need to.”

The smile started to fade but a trace of amusement held on. “I’ll have you know that I’m actually listening to them.”

“Even better!” Grinning for the low chuckle that it drew out, Riff tapped Ice’s leg for emphasis. “I can’t listen to Graziella all the time, someone else has to pick up where I leave off.”

“Glad to know I can help out somewhere,” Ice commented, half-closing his eyes in time with a soundless yawn.

“You help out all the time.” A few seconds later Riff echoed the yawn, twisting his features along with his mouth. He tapped Ice’s leg again but this time used more force. “Come on, get off your back. You’re supposed to keep an injury like that elevated.”

“I will once you get off my legs.” Ice swatted him back before Riff was moving, prodding and directing him at the same time until Ice was steady on his side. What they didn’t expect was changing sides of the bed, not until Ice was settled in and Riff was facing him from the other side.

With Ice comfortable Riff laid his head on the pillow. It was helpful this way, his good cheek pressing down. “Remember to keep off your shoulder,” he instructed.

“Yeah.” By the sounds of it Ice was already half-asleep, muttering disinterestedly.

Riff kept his smile to himself, staying silent aside from a pleased sigh. He didn’t need the final word for himself, but he took the final swat for himself, backhanding Ice’s chest before falling asleep.
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