Social Issues
I just stand there, listening to the blood pounding in my head. I'm aware of Daniel beside me, can almost hear him breathing. We're dead quiet, but the gang must sense us. The short one has been crouching, looking at the person on the ground. Now he straightens up, turns in our direction. In a low voice, he says something I can't hear. For a second, he steps into the light, and I catch a glimpse of his face. It's angular and bony. Skull-like. I know who it belongs to. His name is Damien Sykes. Lots of people know him. I just pray he doesn't know me.
He's seen us. "Hey! You!" he shouts. Somehow his words break the spell, and we can move. Beside me, Daniel has finally found his feet. He slams into me as he wheels around and takes off in the same direction we've come from. I am right behind him.
Every year we take the same roads.
We pass through the same towns.
We arrive at the same beach.
Every year we stay at the same place.
I call it our cottage.
"The teachers can't do nothing to us," Lisa told him, crossing her arms. The paintball wars aren't on school property.
"But—," Micky tried. It was like trying to stop a hurricane.
"Do you think I care what the teachers think?" Lisa asked. "They think we band together because no one else likes us. And we're proud to agree with them, aren't we?"
Micky shrugged. When people called us losers, it just made our group stronger.
"It's the Medford gang I care about," Lisa continued. "The Sewer Rats have never lost a paintball war and we're not going to chicken out now.
Ali sat on her bed. She picked up Tedward Bear. "I wish I had a big brother who wasn't allergic to cats," she whispered in his ear. "I wish I had a baby brother who didn't take my things." She hugged Tedward Bear. "But most of all, I wish I could have a real cat of my very own."
