They Rule the Streets

“Bill!” The tall gangly teenager stood up, brushing a lock of dark brown hair out of his eyes. He turned towards his boss, a slightly chubby man with glasses and a hat tucked over his cinnamon colored hair.

“Yes, Mr. Stump?” he called, stepping away from the crates of Coca-Cola he was stacking. Patrick Stump scowled, rolling his eyes.

“Don’t call me Mr. Stump,” he corrected. Bill grinned in reply. “Anyways, once you’re done with that you can leave, okay?”

“Thanks Patrick!” Bill crowed, turning back to hurry with his work. He was just about done when a large flying object tackled him to the ground. With a cry, he hit the pavement, closing his eyes and preparing for the worst.

“GOTCHA!” Bill’s eyes flew open as he flipped around, glaring up at Gabe.

“Get offa me,” he groaned, shoving his best friend off of his bruised body.

“You shoulda seen your face!” Gabe chuckled. “Priceless!” Bill rolled his eyes and sighed. Gabe wouldn’t shut up about this for a week at most. While Gabe was busy laughing, Bill wrapped an arm around him neck, pulling him close and digging him knuckles into his skull.

“Say it!” he shouted, digging his fist harder into Gabe’s dark brown locks. “Say it!”

“Uncle!” Gabe yelped, attempting to pull back, but Bill’s arm was like a trap. “UNCLE!”

“I can’t hear you!”

“UNCLE! I SAID UNCLE!” Gabe bellowed. Bill let him go, laughing. Gabe rubbed the top of his head, scowling. “Aw, you screwed up my hair!”

“I’m sorry,” Bill teased. “Does that hurt your feelings?”

“You sicko,” Gabe sneered, the ever present glint shining in his eyes. “How could ya?”

“Simple,” Bill smirked. “Like…THIS!” Once again, Gabe was trapped under Bill’s arm, pinched against his ribs and inner elbow. Gabe tugged uselessly against Bill’s grip, mewling for him to let go. Laughing at his friend, Bill let him go.

“What would ya mother say if he found out about that?” Gabe glared.

“She’d give me a pat on the back and congratulate me,” Bill replied waggling his eyebrows.

“Nuh-huh, ya mother’s got a nice spot in her heart fo’ me,” Gabe teased, slapping a slightly dirty hand over his heart. “Otha-wise, why else would she be lettin’ me stay in ya house for so long?”

“Maybe it’s because your uncle kicked you out?” Bill remined him, pushing him aside.

“That lush? Nah, your mother just likes me!” Bill mock-glare, lunging at Gabe as Gabe sidestepped, chuckling. Bill leapt at him, tackling him to the ground where they rolled around, trying to get the upper hand.

“Bill! Get back to work, please!” Patrick called from the store, the laughter noticeable in his voice. Brushing the dirt off his clothes, Bill straightened up, holding a hand out for Gabe to take.

“Sorry!” Bill replied, turning to pick up one of the remaining crates of Coca-Cola. Clambering up onto the railing of the cellar steps, Gabe stole a soda, popping the top of.

“You owe me fifty cents, Saporta!” Patrick shouted. Gabe choked, startled. “I have eyes in the back of my head!” Bill barked out in laughter, the sounds echoing from the cellar up to Gabe.

Ignoring Patrick, Gabe took a deep swig from his coke and called down to Bill’s figure. “You goin’ to the dance?”

“I dunno,” Bill sighed, climbing the stairs. “I don’t have a date.”

“So? Come stag!”

“Gabe…” Bill stopped short, resting his chin on his arms against the metal bar. ‘Do you ever think that maybe there’s something out there? Something waiting, and if you just reach your hand out far enough, you’ll catch it?”

“Um….no. Look, I’m bringing Amber. Why don’t ya find someone ta bring?” Gabe suggested, skipping over Bill’s previous spiel. Bill rolled his eyes, marching back to the crates of sodas.

“Gabe, I just don’t think I can make it,” Bill sighed.

“Bill, I don’t think ya understand. You gotta be there,” Gabe exclaimed, horrified. “We’re challenging the Mets! Ya gotta be there, the boys don’t think ya a part of the Cobras anymore! You, Bill! Don’t that mean nothing to ya no more?”

“Gabe--”

“This is our life! Our background! We started it!” Gabe bellowed. “And you’re gonna toss it away ’cause of some….some…feelin’?”

“Gabe, it’s not like that, ‘n you know it! I just cain’t be a part of the Cobras no more! It’s not who I am!” Bill barked.

“Not who ya are? Bill, you started us! You was there from the beginnin’!” Gabe shoved Bill, causing him to take a few steps backwards. Bill glowered, shoving him back.

“Gabe! I cain’t!” Bill snapped. “I know what ya gonna do, n’ I don’t wanna be a part of that!”

“Bill, please. I promised the guys ya’d be there. Please,” Gabe begged, clasping his hands in front of him. Bill groaned, running a hand through his hair and twisting away from him.

“Gabe…!” he whined. “C’mon, don’t beg!” After a moments pause, Gabe turned to walk away.

“Alright, Bill. I just…I thought my best friend—my own brother—would do me a favor. I guess I was wrong,” he sighed. Bill stayed facing away from him as Gabe walked away, shoulders hunched and hands deep in his worn and faded blue jeans.

“Fine! I’ll be there!” Bill shouted, rubbing his face. “I don’t know why, but I’ll be there.” With a yelp of happiness, Gabe spun around and launched himself into Bill’s arms.

“Thank you!” he shouted. “I won’t let ya down, I promise!” Letting go of Bill, Gabe raced down the streets, whooping with laughter.

“That Gabe is one helluva guy,” Patrick commented from his position against the doorframe. “Get back to work, Bill.” Patrick left, muttering about boys and their crazy ways.

“You have no idea,” Bill replied, shaking his head before continuing with his work. However, before he picked up the crate, he paused, thinking aloud. “Who knows? Could be, who knows? There’s something due any day, I’ll know right away, soon as it shows! Maybe somethin’s comin, sometin big, somethin great!”

Turning back around, he smiled tossing his arms up to the sky. “I mean, look at today! Look at the sky, smell the air, feel the breeze! It’s like somethin’s comin, and I don’t know when, or where, but it’ll come! It’s only just outta reach, down the block, down the street! I gotta feeling there’s a miracle due, it’s gonna come true, comin ta me!”

Bill jumped on the railing, hooking his legs on the metal and balancing, pointing down the alley towards the street, grinning. “Around the corner! Or whistling down the river!” He spun around, pointing in the vicinity of the Hudson. “It’ll be there!” He took a breath, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. “The air is humming! Maybe it’ll be tonight! Tonight, maybe, just maybe, at the dance!” He leapt from the rail, spinning once before stopping, a slight frown on his face. “Who am I kiddin? A miracle comin? For me?” Scuffing his toe against the pavement, he bent down for the forgotten crate. Shaking his head, he headed down the stairs, trying to forget the crawling feeling of maybe, of the hope that something would change, for the better. Or so he hoped.