Split by Mel Bossa Read Free Book Online Page B

basement.
    She’s lucky. I have to sleep down there.
    As soon as she was out of sight, I yanked the bulging bag of toilet paper rolls out of the closet and sprang for the front door.
    Nick was on the sidewalk. He carried a baseball bat and a bag full of what looked like groceries. I handed him the rolls.
    He slid the bag under his arm. “Thanks, O’Reilly.”
    Before I could say anything, he had taken off on his skateboard. Nick rides that board like he’s standing on a magic carpet. Even when he’s carrying two grocery bags and a baseball bat.
    I went to the corner of Wellington. I watched Nick pop his board into his empty hand, then walk into the Dunkin’ Donuts with his ammo. The other guys were already there.
    I dragged my feet back to our apartment because I didn’t have the courage to follow them.
    I sat on the balcony again.
    My chest tightened.
    I jumped up and went back inside.
    It was a school night and I suspected Aunt Frannie wouldn’t let me leave now that it was dark. I decided I would tell her I was going to bed and then try to sneak out through the back door. It would be tricky, but if she was watching TV in the living room, I could probably manage to escape for half an hour before she came down to check on me. I had a plan. It felt really good to have a plan.
    I never have a plan.
    “Aunt Frannie?”
    She was still on the phone. “What is it, hon? You know you should be in bed, it’s almost nine.”
    “Did you find the ca-ca-candles?”
    “No, Derek. I found two cans of pork beans, though. Good night, hon.”
    “Good night.”
    On my way down to the basement, I made sure to land loudly on every step, then I crept back up and tiptoed to the kitchen. I passed Mom’s bedroom, but the door was shut.
    It’s always shut.
    I pulled on the back door, making sure not to make a sound, and snuck out.
    The yard seemed bigger. The sky, darker. I was the only one awake in the whole universe, and all I had in my pockets were two quarters and some of Nick’s raisins.
    I pulled the sleeves of the sweater over my hands and headed for Wellington Street.
    The guys had already left the restaurant, but I knew where they were. I decided to take the alleys to Gordon Street; that way, no one would spot me and report my whereabouts to Aunt Frannie in the morning. There was a thin coat of frost on the ground and my breath streamed in and out of my lips like I was boiling pasta in my mouth.
    I walked fast, with my head down, trying to ignore the barking dogs as I passed. I hadn’t brought my medicine and I was beginning to feel a little short of breath, so I slowed down.
    Then I heard some voices.
    They were coming from the street. Gordon Street. The voices were uneven, some yelling angrily, some hissing low, some pitched high and threatening. All of them were coming from Sebastian’s front yard.
    I stopped.
    Nick’s voice was the deepest of them all. I could single it out easily. “Get your hands off me,” I heard him snarl. “Or cleaning up your face’s gonna take longer than your house.”
    That’s when I decided to step out of the alley and see what was happening.
    The first thing I saw was Sebastian’s maple tree. It looked like the dress Lene wore when she was a flower girl last year. I guess Nick had gotten toilet paper from everyone who would give it to him, because my rolls couldn’t have done that. The second thing I saw was the front door. It reminded me of Slimer from the Ghostbusters movie. Except thinner.
    Then I saw Sebastian rolling on the ground with JF, the two of them punching each other’s shoulders and growling like mad dogs.
    Then I saw Terry trying to hold Nick back from destroying David.
    David kept yelling, “Come on, Nick! Come on, hit me! I know you want to. You’ve been wanting to hit me since Miguel—”
    The last thing I saw before being struck down by David’s elbow was Nick punching David.
    Something exploded inside my head and everything went black.
    When I opened my eyes,