5

 

        Some months after that, Puck called me to have me meet him at a malt shop on 21st Avenue. When I got there I found him hunched down in the rear booth. He looked nervous, but not scared, glancing passed me towards the street as if he thought someone might have followed me.

        “Took long enough for you to get here,” he said, when I slid in the booth across from him.

        “My uncle had me doing chores in the yard,” I said.

        “I thought you told my your uncle was out of town?”

        “Not that uncle, my other uncle, I have five uncles you know.”

        “Which one has the car?”

        “Charlie. He’s the one that’s away.”

        “Did you bring it?”

        “Yes, but I’m not happy about it. Charlie specifically told me he didn’t want me driving it while he was gone.”

        “You’re a pussy.”

        “Why – because I do what I’m told?”

        “Yeah, even when I tell you. So did you park the car out of sight?”

        “Around the block” I said. “Is that too far out of the way?”

        “That’s fine. I just don’t want anybody seeing us with it and then telling the police later.”

        “Why are you worried about the police?”

        “If I tell you, you’ll go running home in a huff.”

        “If you don’t tell me, I’m not moving that care anywhere.”

        “Don’t give me a hard time, Max,” Puck warned me. “Or I’ll break your head.”

        “I’m going home,” I said and started to rise. He grabbed my wrist.

        “I told you to stay.”

        I peeled his fingers off my hand and turned away, “Good bye,” I said.

        “Get your ass back here!” Puck yelled, leaping up, reaching his arm out to grab me again. But he somehow missed, giving me time to grab his wriest and twist.

        This was not a complicated move. Charlie had shown it to me enough for me to get it right, but I often didn’t, and I didn’t this time, and instead of producing a simple howl of pain, I also caused the bone to snap, breaking from my applying too much force.

        Puck wailed, but less in pain than outrage!

        “You broke my fucking arm, you fucking asshole.”

        “I’m sorry -- I didn’t mean to…”

        “Don’t’ hand me that shit. Just help me out to the car.”

        “I can’t…”

        “You broke my arm, now you’re going to get me to a doctor.”

        “All right, all right, come on,” I said.