the streets

This story started here.

Well, I don’t have to tell you that I didn’t expect
anything to happen, and I guess I don’t have to tell you that
something did happen, or there wouldn’t be any point in
my telling you this story.

As soon as young Fifteen and I got
outside, I started to have second thoughts. For one thing, the night
was cold, with quite a brisk wind. Also, several of the group back in
Duffy’s had been concocting a scabrous limerick about Uncle Mike, and
I knew none of them would think to write it down, or be able to
remember it the next day. In addition, I didn’t see what would be
accomplished by traipsing around the cold streets, except to make
young Fifteen feel foolish when nothing happened.

However, I had agreed to go along, and my mug was full, so I
followed him down the street toward the docks. And, of course,
however cold it was near Duffy’s, it was sure to be colder down
by the water.

Suddenly there was a siren, screeching tires and a loudspeaker
blared, “Put that bottle down carefully and
step away from it!“

“Oh, shit,” said Fifteen. I couldn’t see very well in the glare
of the strobing spotlights on the roof of the police car, but I
put the mug down on the sidewalk and stepped back from it. Then,
as the car doors opened, I stepped back further, turned and
pulled Fifteen quickly down an alley between two buildings.

My idea had been that the alley went through to the next
block, but I must have got confused about how far we’d walked,
because it ended in a wooden fence about six feet tall. I quickly
kneeled and cupped my hands. “Up and over,” I said. “Come
on.”

“But–”

“Go!” I said. He glanced at the street, where two
flashlights were approaching, and he stepped into my hands. I
helped him get over, then I turned to face the music.

find out what happens next

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