Page 43 of The Golden Boys
The lights, the hired clowns and face painters, a professional DJ posted at the end of the street. Mostly, he played hip-hop from the 90s and early 2000s, which has the neighbors dancing beneath the lights. Young and old. All races.
A lot of work went into pulling this off, and it shows.
“Get those away from me,” I cringe, turning my face when Jules bounces to the table with the last batch of peanut butter cookies from her oven. She volunteered to bake them for Scar, since preparing them in the house could end badly for me.
“Oh, relax,” she teases. “I even wiped down the outside of the container and washed my hands before coming over here, so—”
She takes my face and plants a big kiss on my forehead.
“Cut it out! I know the many, many places those lips have been!” I joke.
She shoves me playfully and I do the same to her once she takes the seat next to me.
“Hopefully, we made enough,” Scar huffs, surveying the several dozen cookies and brownies she slaved over last night, as well as most of this morning and afternoon.
“We’ve gotwaymore stuff than last year,” Shane assures her. “You’re gonna make a ton of cash.” I glance up at the sound of his deepening voice. He’s not much of a kid anymore, which feels strange, seeing as how I’ve known him his whole life.
Year after year, he looks more like his big brother—jet black hair, killer gray eyes, and dimples that make me fear for my sister’s chastity. Lord knows I happily let his brother decimate mine. Shane’s gotten tall, too, towering over Scar by a few inches already. They laugh together like innocent friends, but I’d been down that road once with a Ruiz brother, and we all know how that ended.
“Everything turned out perfect,” Jules beams, surveying the party. “Mr. Huang even sprang for a bouncy house.” I follow her gaze when she points to the long line of kids waiting to jump on the large, inflated castle a few doors down.
“The amount of germs in that thing makes me want to bathe in a vat of bleach,” I joke, which earns me an eye roll. “Seriously, that’s a ringworm outbreak waiting to happen.”
“Pessimist.
“Realist,” I counter.
Her phone chimes and I no longer have her attention.
“Things are about to getrealinteresting,” she says with a smile. “A bunch of kids from the north side are headed this way. Pandora’s been posting about the block party all day.”
I hadn’t missed her updates, nor that my moniker had been stated in most of them. While some might argue she’s only trying to bring unity between their side and ours, I feel differently about it. Almost like we southside dwellers are some kind of sideshow, an exhibit for the rich to come gawk at for a few hours, and then return home to their mansions.
Needless to say, I hope to blend into the crowd tonight, flying under the radar of anyone from Cypress Prep.
“This seat taken?”
I peer up to find Ricky peering down on me, that same killer smile his brother likes to hit my sister with.
“Free country,” I reply, which draws a laugh out of him as he gets comfortable in the seat beside me.
“Take you all day to come up with that one?” he teases.
It’s been a solid week since we’ve spoken, and it didn’t end on a good note, but heisthe reason our electricity is on. I smile a little when he nudges me with his knee, although I don’t mean to.
Behind us, the screen door of my house creaks open and I don’t even turn to see who’s staggering outside.
Freakin’ Mike—Daddy Dearest.
“Maybe if we don’t stare it right in the eyes it’ll go away,” Jules jokes under her breath, which makes me choke out a laugh.
“I’ve been trying that for years. Doesn’t work,” I whisper back.
“If you’re gonna talk shit, do it in front of someone else’s house,” Mike gripes, the words partially muffled by the cigarette dangling from his lips. His lighter clicks a few times and I can’t help but to wish wehadset up in front of a different house.
When I finally turn, a tall, slender frame steps into my peripheral, wearing the same jeans and wifebeater he’s had on the past four days. His fingers slip through his stringy, shoulder-length hair while he scans the street, scowling.
“Damn music’s so loud it’s rattling my windows,” he manages to get out before an ugly cough chokes him out.