You're amazed when the other punks (absent the leader, who's still recuperating) hurry off as though fulfilling your command. Within twenty minutes, they've all returned with the items you requested! You can't believe they'd do anything so elaborate merely to put you off guard, so they must be serious.
"You fight like that, you must have been inside," says the leader, once everyone's settled. He introduces you to the other punks, and you know better than to ask about their names. "Aunt Pete" and April Park (is that her real name or a street moniker?) were the two clinging to each other earlier. "Puny Ruben" and "Wump" were the two who decided to slug it out. The leader himself just goes by Paul. You give your name as well, trying to look relaxed but ready to brawl as needed. It's an exhausting pose to maintain.
You've all gathered around a precast concrete picnic table where the gang begins to lay out goodies, once April Park has spread a black tablecloth with tiny pink hearts on it. She brought a gas lantern with an attached stove, along with the makings for tea, requisite tableware, and a huge jar of marrow and ginger jam. Aunt Pete had fetched a wheel of Stilton under a cheese dome as well as a large loaf of Schwarzbrot. Puny Ruben found three bottles of Offley's tawny in his father's sideboard, and Wump dug up a box of Sancho Panzas.
"I am humbled by your collective larder," you tell them. The town had a higher class of punk than you counted on.
The punks' 'hideout' was nothing more than the large table and associated benches under a dense stand of lindens. At night, backlit by SOX lamps, the area had a sort of eldritch cheer to it. With the addition of jam-and-cheese sandwiches over a dry port, it was the closest thing you could expect to a welcome home party.
"And, yes, I spent some time taking my mail in the town of Bitucker," you say, answering Paul's question.
"You were up in Liselotte?!" he asks, and the punks now eye you with respect. You've never understood why the prison has such a fearsome reputation. Most of the perps were harmless, and even the worst had some exploitable eccentricity that kept them in line. You spend time telling them about it. For every detail that doesn't impress them, you offer another that astonishes.
By the time you're puffing on a Dulcinea, you feel comfortable enough with the young people to hint at your immediate designs in town.
"Then you should be jumped in as a Pinkheart!" April Park shouts, leaping up. She'd been quiet through most of the 'food and fellowship' palaver, but a suggestion that your favorite brats needed to be tortured by tickling caught her attention.
The guys weren't amused, heads down as they tried not to look at you. You imagine that having an awkward nickname would only be more embarrassing if you were associated with a gang known as the Pinkhearts.
April Park relates the gang's history... and how, after joining, she took over once she beat the four guys up. They'd been deceived by her petiteness and hadn't considered her feistiness! Prevailing, she'd imposed a name change and was working on a new gang code. Paul's switchblade caper might have been the last gasp of the prior headbusting arrangement. Perhaps he resented being left as nominal leader after getting slapped down by April Park. No wonder Puny Ruben and Wump had exploded into fisticuffs, given a moment's disorder! The young men were bursting with repressed belligerence.
"What do you think?" April Park asks. "I know you're a little mature, but I can tell you've got the instincts. Then we can help you with those pesky kids."
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author
