Part 17 (2/2)
But, apparently giving orders nicely was a strategy that worked, because she made no attempt to take off or take over, just came with me as we checked spot after spot.
Behind a row of stores we found a long, narrow alley with a wall on one side and a solid six-foot fence on the other.
”This looks promising,” I said.
”Uh, yeah. If you're Oscar the Grouch.” She waved at a row of trash bins.
I lifted a lid and pointed at shredded paper inside. ”Recycling. There aren't any restaurants around here, so the garbage won't smell.”
I continued down the alley. It dead-ended at a wall.
”This is great,” I said. ”Three sides, the bins block part of the entrance. We can s.h.i.+ft boxes around and put paper down to sit on.”
”And maybe, if we're lucky, find a cardboard box big enough to crawl inside so we can pretend we're homeless people.”
”Right now, Tori, we are are homeless people.” homeless people.”
That shut her up. I stopped near the end of the alley and let out a laugh.
”Come here.”
She sighed. ”What now?”
I waved for her to come over.
”Oh.” She reached out to thaw her hands in the hot air blowing from the vent.
I grinned. ”We've even got heating. How perfect is that?”
”Too perfect,” said a girl's voice. ”Which is why this spot is taken.”
Three girls were walking toward us down the alley. All were about our age. One was blond and dressed in oversized fatigues. Another had dreadlocks. The third girl wore a battered brown leather jacket, and when she stepped into a patch of moonlight, I saw a thick scar running from her eye to her chin.
”See that?” the dreadlocked girl pointed to a tag on the wood fence. ”That's our mark. That means this spot is ours.”
”We d-didn't see it. Sorry. We'll go.”
I started to walk away, but Tori pulled me back. ”No, we won't go. You can't reserve reserve an alley, mark or no mark. It's first come, first served. You want this one? Be here earlier tomorrow.” an alley, mark or no mark. It's first come, first served. You want this one? Be here earlier tomorrow.”
”Excuse me?” me?”
The scarred girl pulled a switchblade from her pocket. It snapped open with a tw.a.n.g. Tori glanced at the knife but didn't budge, her gaze locking with the girl's.
”Check it out,” the scarred girl said to her friends. ”This chick's going to challenge us for our spot. How long you been on the streets, girl?” She looked Tori up and down. ”Since about nine this morning, I'll guess. What happened? Mommy and Daddy said you couldn't see your boyfriend on a school night?”
The girls snickered. Tori flexed her fingers, preparing to cast. I caught her wrist. She tried to shake me off. I got her to notice the matching knives now in the hands of the other two, but her gaze returned to the scarred girl, and all her rage from the last twenty-four hours bubbled up. The boxes near the girls quavered and rustled. Papers swirled behind them. The girls never turned, dismissing it as the wind.
I clasped Tori's wrist tighter and whispered, ”Too many.”
To my surprise, her hand relaxed. Expecting a trick, I held on, but she shook me off, saying ”Fine. We're going.”
”Good idea,” the scarred girl said. ”Next time, girls, if you see that”-she pointed at the tag-”steer clear. At least until you have the hardware to play.”
We started to pa.s.s, but the scarred girl's hand flew out, smacking Tori's chest and stopping her.
”Life out here isn't what you girls think it is. You've got a lot of lessons to learn.”
”Thanks,” Tori grunted, and tried to keep walking, but the scarred girl stopped her again.
”The thing about lessons? If they're going to sink in, they've gotta come with consequences. So I'm going to help you remember this one. Give me your jacket.”
She held out her hand. Tori stared at it.
”Mine's getting old,” the girl said. ”I like yours better.”
Tori snorted and tried to pa.s.s again.
The girl stepped in front of her, knife raised. ”I said I want your jacket.”
”And her her shoes.” The girl with the dreadlocks pointed at me. shoes.” The girl with the dreadlocks pointed at me.
”Fine, the jacket and the shoes,” the scarred one said. ”Take 'em off, girls.”
The girl in fatigues stepped forward. ”I want the little one's jeans, too. Never had a pair of Sevens.” She smiled, flas.h.i.+ng a jeweled tooth. ”Gonna make me feel like a movie star.”
”Yeah, if you can get them on,” the dreadlocked girl said.
”Forget the jeans,” the scarred girl said. ”Jacket and shoes. Now.”
Tori needed her jacket, and I definitely needed shoes. I bent to undo one of my sneakers, pretending to have trouble with my balance, hopping, then waving Tori over to help. To my relief, she came. I leaned against her, tugging at my shoe, and whispered, ”Knock back.”
Tori frowned.
I flicked my fingers. ”Knock back. One, two, three.” I nodded to each girl in turn.
Tori shook her head. ”Binding.”
”Too many. Knock back.”
”Come on, girls,” the scarred girl said.
Tori gave an exasperated sigh and bent, as if helping me undo my shoe. Then she shot up, her hands flying out, hitting the scarred girl with- The girl froze. So much for my advice.
At first the other two didn't notice. They just looked at their leader impatiently, waiting for her to prod us again.
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