They Rule the Streets

Across the city, Nate and Sisky meandered down the street, their scuffed shoes echoing against the silver painted sidewalk. They were about a block from Patrick’s when the shrill whistle pierced the night sky. Startled, the boys kept their heads down and kept walking, hands shoved in their pants pockets.

“Hey, you!” the rough and burley voice bellowed, causing Nate to finally turn around to face the officer.

“Who me?” he asked, pointing against his chest, walking backwards.

“Yeah, you!” Officer Wentz snarled. Both Nate and Sisky stopped, feigning shock.

“Why, it is Officer Wentz, Sisky!” Nate smirked, placing a hand on Sisky’s arm. He elbowed Sisky, not so gently, and Sisky quickly bobbed his head.

“Top o’the evenin’, Officer Wentz,” Sisky muttered, nervous.

“Didn’tcha hear me?” Officer Wentz growled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Why, yes sir, I got 20-20 hearing!” Sisky insisted, causing Nate to burst into laughter.

“Then why didn’tcha answer me?” Sisky, scared, glanced at Nate for guidance.

“Well, his mother told him ta never talk back t’a cop,” Nate cut in.

“You lil’wise apple! Do ya want me t’run ya in?” Officer Wentz snapped, stabbing his finger at Nate.

“Indeed not, sir,” Nate glowered, glaring right back.

“I’ll crack the top o’ya skulls if you pinks don’t stop when I whistle, ya hear?” Wentz threatened, glaring at the pair. They both nodded, and he turned, obviously content with their answer. Throwing suspicious glares over his shoulder, Officer Wentz strolled back down the street, heading away from the protruding gang.

“Ya see?” Zack growled, coming up from behind with the rest of the Cobras. “Cops believe everythin’ they read in the papers.”

“T’them, we ain’t human. We’re cruddy juvenile delinquents. So, that’s what we give ‘em!” Gabe concluded, nodding his head.

“Hey you!” Zack imitated, grabbing a rolled up newspaper and using it to point at Gabe. Gabe feigned shock, pointing at his chest.

“Me, Officer Wentz?”

“Yeah, you! Gimme one good reason for not dragging ya down to the station house, ya punk,” Zack demanded, poking him in the chest with the paper. Gabe instantly dropped to his knees, clasping his hands in front of his chest.

“Dear kindly Sergeant Wentz, ya gotta understand, it’s just our bringing up that gets us outta hand,” he insisted. “Our mothers all our junkies, our fathers all are drunks, Golly Moses, natcherly we’re punks!” The others burst into laughter, while Gabe jumped to his knees and tossed his long arms around Spencer and Brendon’s shoulders.

“Gee, Officer Wentz, we’re very upset,” Gabe sighed, dropping his head.

“We never had the love that every child oughta get,” Brendon pouted, giving his best puppy-dog impression. Gabe patted Brendon’s head, faking sympathy. Spencer, catching on, decided to add in: “We ain’t no delinquents, we’re misunderstood!”

“Deep down inside us there is good!” Gabe shouted, letting go of the two and conducting the other members to join in.

“There is good, there is good, there is untapped good, like inside, the worst o’us is good!” they chanted, jumping around like morons. Amber, Katy, and Vicky-T, who had both been dragged by Gabe, Ryland and Travis, giggled behind their hands, watching the gang make fun of the officer.

“That’s a touching good story!” Zack pretended to sob, wiping fake tears away from his eyes.

“Lemme tell it t’the world!” Gabe shouted, tossing his arms out and clipping Zack on the shoulder.

“Jus’ tell it t’the judge!” he demanded, bringing the newspaper down on Gabe’s head with a crack. Brendon and Spencer grabbed Rian by the arms, forced him to place his coat on backwards, and shoved him down behind one of Patrick’s window. Rian grabbed an empty soda bottle and used it as his gavel while Gabe pretended to swear on the bible, or what was really a magazine held by Nate.

“Dear kindly judge ya Honor, my parents treat me rough,” Gabe mocked, turning towards Rian while the others pretended to be reporters. “With all their marijuana, they won’t give me a puff! They didn’ wanna have me, but somehow I was had! Leapin’ lizards, that’s why I’m so bad!”

“Right!” Rian shouted, slamming the bottle down. “Officer Wentz, you’re really a square! This boy don’t need a judge, he needs and analyst’s care! It’s just his neurosis that outta be curbed! He’s psychologic’ly disturbed!”

“I’m disturbed!” Gabe cried, twitching and making faces. The others copied him, making strange faces and jerked movements.

“We’re disturbed, we’re disturbed! We’re the most disturbed, like we’re psychologic’ly disturbed!” Rian cut off their cheers by clearing his throat.

“In the opinion of this court, this child is depraved on account he ain’t had a normal home,” Rian announced.

“Hey, I’m depraved on account I’m deprived!” Gabe interrupted, causing Rian to take the paper from Zack and using it to smack Gabe atop the head with it.

“So, take him to a head shrinka!” he instructed once Gabe had shut up. The members all looked at each other, before Rian took matters into his own hands. “You!” he bellowed, pointed at Ryland.

“Me?” Ryland asked the question, but burst into character flawlessly. He seated himself down on the steps, brushing off his pants and snatching a pair of glasses from Brendon’s pockets, despite Brendon’s protests. Shoving them on his nose, he glanced down at the ground, suggesting that Gabe laid down at his feet.

“My father is a bastard, my ma’s an S.O.B., my grandpa’s always plastered, my grandma pushed tea,” Gabe confessed, his hands resting on his chest. “My sister ahs a mustache, my brother wears a dress! Goodness gracious, that’s why I’m a mess!”

“Yes!” Ryland exclaimed in a fake accent. “Officer Wentz, you’re really a slob! This boy don’t need a doctor, just a good honest job. Society’s played him a terrible trick, und sociologic’ly he’s sick!”

“I’m sick!” Gabe giggled, jumping us from his position lying down. Nate pointed to Gabe and started laughing while Gabe attempted to do a handstand. Instead, he smashed to the floor at the feet of Sierra, the local tomboy who wished nothing other than to join the Cobras.

“In my opinion, this child don’t need to have his head shrunk at all,” Ryland continued, pushing on Gabe’s side with his foot. “Juvenile delinquency is merely a social disease.”

“Hey, did you guys hear that?” Gabe grinned. “I gotta social disease!” Ryland, in imitation of Rian, grabbed the newspaper and smacked Gabe on the head, causing him to fall silent.

“So take him to a social worker!” Michael plopped down on the stairs, turning his jacket inside out and tying it around his waist so it looked like an apron, while Gabe ignored his personal space and straddled Michael’s lap.

“Dear kindly social worker,” Gabe lamented, pressing his forehead against Michael’s, who pulled away with a sneer. “They say go earn some dough, like be a soda jerker, which means go be a shmoe! It’s not I’m anti-social, I’m only anti-work! Glory Osky, that’s why I’mma jerk!” Gabe pressed his lips to Michael’s cheek with a loud smack, causing Michael to pretend to shriek and the gang burst into ruckus laughter.

“Eek!” Michael moaned, wiping off the kiss with the back of his hand. Using a high pitched, female voice, Michael continued on. “Officer Wentz, you’ve done it again! This boy don’t need a job, he needs a year in the pen! It ain’t just a question of misunderstood, deep down inside him he’s no good!” Michael stood up, forcing Gabe out of his lap and onto the ground.

“The trouble is he’s crazy!” Rian grabbed the newspaper and smack Gabe atop the head before Ryland snatched it from his hands.

“The trouble is he drinks!” Ryland hit Gabe, and then handed the paper to Michael, who proceeded to smack Gabe, too.

“The trouble is he’s lazy!” Nate grasped the paper and hit Gabe, grinning.

“The trouble is he stinks!”

“No, the trouble is he’s growing,” Travis insisted, also hitting Gabe.

“The trouble is he’s grown,” Spencer corrected, taking pleasure of letting the paper once more connect with Gabe’s skull.

“Hey, Wentz, we’ve got troubles of our own!” Brendon insisted, taking the paper from Spencer and holding it menacingly.

“Gee, Officer Wentz, we’re down on our knees,” Gabe begged, holding onto Zack’s legs for dear life and beckoning for them to copy him. “Cause no one wants some fellas with a social disease!”

“Gee, Officer Wentz,” Sisky continued, taking hold of Zack’s hand. “What are we to do?”

“Gee, Officer Wentz,” Brendon shrugged, bringing the paper down on Zack’s head. “Fuck you!” Zack pretended to faint, tipping backwards onto the street.

“Alright, Bden!” Gabe whistled, clapping Brendon on the back. Brendon grinned, still holding the paper.

“Enough horsing around,” Patrick sighed from his position in the doorway. “Get your asses in here before the Mets get here.”

“Hiyah, Patrick,” Gabe waved, his face split into a wider grin as he skipped to Amber.

“You still owe me fifty cents, Saporta,” Patrick informed him. “Now get inside!”

“Hold up!” Travis called. “Girls, go home. This ain’t no place for broads.”

“Hey!” Amber cried, indignant. “We ain’t broads! Ain’t that right, Vicky-T, Katy?”

“Yeah,” the girls replied, arms crossed over their chests.

“Aw, scram,” Sierra, sniffed, waving her hand at them. “Go home and play with ya dolls!”

“C’mon, Amber, please?” Gabe begged, brushing his knuckles down her face. She hesitated, but ducked her head in a yes. She kissed him one last time before tilting her head to the side, signaling to the other two girls that it was time to go.

“You too, Sierra,” Gabe instructed, watching his girlfriend’s hips sway as she left. Sierra’s jaw dropped to the floor while her face flushed with embarrassment. “Go getcha self a skirt.”

“But, Gabe--!”

“Scram!” Gabe snapped. “Go home!” Glaring, Sierra did as she was told, storming off down the road. Turning the corner, she ran into the Mets. Checking to see if Gabe was watching, she shoved through the men, slamming them aside as she did.

Ignoring her, the Mets quickened their pace until they were right in front of Gabe, ready to enter Patrick’s and start the War Council.