Accidental Mobster (8 page)

With Gino and Frank gone, I now only need to worry about Iggy, who can't be too much of a threat in his present condition. The older man takes a long time to move away from the building, and I begin to feel reckless in my impatience. Maybe I should just make a run for it?

Would the older man notice me? I check myself as I remember that Gino said Iggy had planned to do some killing of his own tonight.

After an agonizing half hour, Iggy finally clears out, and I cautiously climb over the backseat of the Lexus and open the back door. When I'm sure no one is around, I sprint down the empty street toward the highway. Three blocks later, I finally find a pay phone, and as I wait for the taxi (talking the driver into coming to Old Newcastle late at night is not an easy task), I realize that my sunglasses are still sitting somewhere in the back of the Lexus.

* * * *

I barely sleep at all. The little bit that I do manage is filled with hazy dreams that include Tommy Gallo and Frank beating the living daylights out of me, and Gino pointing a gun in my face. I wake up drenched in sweat, trying desperately to make sense of what I witnessed at the diner. Gino is not the hero I made him out to be, but am I sure this all really happened?

I placed the taxi fare receipt in my pocket just for that purpose—so I wouldn't be able to convince myself I didn't see anything wrong.

Why can't I just let this go? Why am I preventing myself from forgetting what I saw?

For some odd, frustrating reason, and despite the fact that my parents have taken no trouble to teach me good values, I have an overwhelming dislike of foul play. I don't know whether Iggy deserved his beating or not. Gino had mentioned that Iggy planned to kill someone, so maybe Iggy is a person who got what was coming to him. But I'm finding any reason to excuse Gino, because this situation involves not only him, but also the whole Vigliotti family. Somehow, I can't imagine that good-natured Ronnie has any idea that Gino is involved in something so violent. And yet, she was concerned about the Gallo kid. Vince may know something about this. Is that why he is so obsessed with mob movies?

How long has Gino been doing this type of thing? Is there a mob in Newcastle?

I have so many questions—none of which can be answered at this moment. I need to get more rest so I can take on the first day of school and be ready for Tommy Gallo and Portia Saviano, both of whom make me nervous for very different reasons. I finally fall into a more peaceful sleep, but not before realizing that Baxter isn't sleeping on my bed.

* * * *

By the time I am dressed for school the next morning, I have a plan. Things are always clearer to me in the morning. Instead of judging Gino on what I observed last night from the back of the SUV, I decide to launch a full-scale investigation of my own before I make any hasty decisions.

But before I get started, I have to get through my first day of school. When I stride into the kitchen, Vince is slurping a bowl of Cocoa Nuggets and Julia is sipping orange juice and reading the latest issue of
Vogue
. Both of them ignore me, which I had expected. For Julia, giving me the cold shoulder is nothing new; Vince on the other hand, is establishing the distance he expects me to keep on the first day of school. Vince can't be seen as friends with a freshman, and I know Vince well enough by now to understand the snub isn't personal. At least, Vince doesn't necessarily mean he doesn't want my friendship—but the fact that we are buddies can't be obvious at Newcastle High without hurting his reputation. Ronnie is bustling around the kitchen with her usual energy. She fixes me an English muffin and poached egg when I decline a bowl of Cocoa Nuggets. I'm thrilled to have someone make me breakfast—just another experience to add to my ever-growing list of why I love it here. Vince leaves the table quickly (and angrily) when Julia suggests he needs more deodorant, and I eat my breakfast in silence. Ronnie leaves the kitchen to get ready for a tennis lesson, and I am about to head back to the bedroom to grab my backpack when Julia puts her hand on my arm.

I look at her curiously. “What's up?”

She glances at the door through which Ronnie and Vince just exited the kitchen and then says, in a quiet voice, “Where were you last night?”

I try to hide my surprise. My arm stiffens under her hand, and I hope she doesn't feel it.

“What do you mean?” I ask innocently.

“Baxter doesn't want to sleep with me anymore. In case you haven't noticed, Baxter has been sleeping on your bed the past week.”

I forget for a moment that Julia knows I was absent last night. I am suddenly more interested in the fact that Julia has been putting the dog in my room. “But Baxter can't get on the bed,” I say. “So you've been sneaking into my room and putting him there? That's a little creepy.”

She abruptly withdraws her hand as though burned. “Oh, please. He's been scratching at your door every night. I have no choice. You haven't heard me because you sleep like a hibernating bear—you have a horrible snoring problem. It's
quite
attractive,” she finishes sarcastically.

I grin. “You're like a stalker.”

Her face flushes. “What matters is that you were gone for a good part of the night,” she accuses.

I attempt to make my face unreadable, as I have seen Gino accomplish many times before. Julia is glaring at me, and I know she isn't going to let the issue go. I must appease her in case she decides to tell Ronnie, or worse—Gino.

“Look,” I say casually, “I had to take a walk. Starting high school, being in a new place—it's just a lot of pressure. Okay?”

She continues to study me, but after a few seconds, she takes a sip of orange juice and abruptly leaves the table. I wonder whether she could tell I was lying.

* * * *

As we pull up in front of the school, I am thrilled that the first person I see at Newcastle High is Portia Saviano. I am not as thrilled, however, to see that she has her arm around the shoulders of another boy. I hope it is a sign of Portia's friendliness and not an indication that she has a boyfriend. The other boy is barely as tall as Portia and slender. But no matter what the kid looks like, Portia is draped all over him, and that is not helping to ease my first-day nerves.

Vince has driven us to school in the Vigliotti's “practical” car—the minivan. I was surprised by this because it's not exactly legal. At seventeen, Vince isn't allowed to drive more than one passenger if a parent isn't in the car. But if Ronnie doesn't have any objections, then I'm certainly not going to say anything.

I am up front with Vince, and Julia, in constant text-messaging mode, is in the far back. Vince drops us off impatiently (he obviously does not want to be seen with his sister and a freshman, or he may be worried about someone seeing him driving a minivan) and drives off to find parking in the student lot. Julia immediately turns her back on me and strides toward a group of girls that appear equally as snooty, if not quite as beautiful, as Julia. I cautiously approach Portia and her male accessory from behind, wondering how she will react to me. Last time I saw her, I had just beat the snot out of Tommy Gallo. I don't know whether this has earned me points with her or not.

“Portia?” I call out a little too quickly and loudly, wanting to take her attention not only from the other boy but also from the several girls who are surrounding her and talking way too fast about summer break. One girl is blabbing about a guy at the GAP, spitting through her braces and brushing frizzy brown hair away from her chubby face. No one seems to be paying her much attention, and I appear to be a welcome distraction for the group.

“Danny!” Portia says happily, unwrapping herself from the other boy and making my confidence spike. I return her smile.

“Hey.”

She puts her arm around my shoulders and propels me toward the group of teenagers. Frizzy-haired girl has finally quit talking; actually, no one is speaking at all. Everyone is staring at me (and my stitches) with curiosity. That is, everyone except the boy over whom Portia was previously draped. He is glaring at me and making no effort to hide his dislike. I can't blame him.

“Danny, I'd like you to meet Tony Chen,” Portia says, removing her arm from me and standing between me and the other kid. “I've known him for years. My dad sold his dad his first car after they moved from China.”

I immediately hate Tony simply because he has known Portia for years, and I have only known her for about five minutes. How can I compete with someone who has a lifetime of knowledge about what Portia likes and what she doesn't? I know I have some serious ground to make up.

“Hi, Tony,” I say, keeping my tone as relaxed as possible. I need to learn more about my competition before I can gain the upper hand.

“Hi,” Tony replies, equally casual. He is studying me with suspicion.

“Tony and I double-team at school,” Portia says. “I'm the artsy one. I like to write, give speeches, and create presentations. Tony's the practical one. He helps me with math and science homework.”

I realize that Tony is much further ahead than I thought.
Double-team
? Portia is practically telling me that she and Tony are girlfriend and boyfriend. I feel my confidence drop.

“Is it true you're staying at the Vigliotti house?” Frizzy-haired girl cuts in, moving closer to me. “What happened to your head? I heard you were in a fight with Tommy and that you beat him up!”

I quickly shift away from her; she makes me uneasy with her rapid-fire questions. I choose only one of her questions to answer. “Yeah, I'm staying at the Vigliotti's,” I reply, but I'm not looking at her. I'm watching Tony's face, because at the name Vigliotti, Tony's jaw tightens. If Tony disliked me before, I think he might hate me now, and I wonder why the name makes Tony angry. Portia does not seem to notice Tony's reaction.

“Do you want to hang around with us today?” she asks me quietly, so that the giggling, chattering girls won't hear her.

I stare at her, surprised. Of course I do. Well, I don't really want to hang out with Tony—but I definitely want to hang out with her—all day, every day. “Sure,” I say, trying not to sound too eager.

“Great! Because if our experience in middle school is any indication, we need one more member on our team. Now we'll have personality, brains—” She smiles at me “—and muscle.”

So I'm the bodyguard. Portia seems to like me because she feels safe with me. That's okay—I would rather be the bodyguard than the nerd. I could never be the nerdy guy, even though I have always managed to get decent grades at school. A kid can get good grades
and
pull off being cool as long as the good grades don't define who you are. I'm glad that the girls I've met know I beat Tommy in a fight—if everyone thinks the stitches are from fighting Tommy, I can hide the fact that I'm from a poor town and belong to hopeless parents.

I know it's only a matter of time before I will confront Tommy Gallo again. Tommy is a sophomore at Newcastle High, like Julia, so his reputation is already established. And I also know from Vince that Tommy's reputation is one of a tough guy—a tough guy who is hated and feared by
everyone
.

I asked Vince why Tommy was so intimidating, especially when I personally know that Tommy is beatable—any decent wrestler or boxer could take him down. Vince chose to ignore the question, which has only increased my curiosity. I now know that the Gallo family is not only connected to Gino in some way, but that they hold a certain degree of power that can force Joe Saviano to back away from a kid who just hit his daughter. But I, unlike the others, am not going to worry about Tommy's connections. I'm an outsider, and even if I'm living at the Vigliotti's house, I'm disconnected from them. I don't know who Tommy's dad is, and I don't care.

As though my thoughts cause him to materialize, Tommy suddenly appears in the school hall. He is flanked by his torpedo-like friend who fought Vince as well as an extremely tall kid with white blond hair. I know I can't just start fighting, at least, not here in the school hallway. But the look on Tommy's face hints that he obviously feels we have some unfinished business. I remember Tommy striking Portia and feel angry all over again. Portia is stiff beside me; she must be thinking about what Tommy did to her too. However, I decide, with some difficulty, to let Tommy make the first move.

Tommy studies me, but he doesn't appear angry—he appears smug. That worries me more than anything else. What does Tommy know that I don't? I pretty much beat Tommy in our fight; shouldn't he be angry? He takes a step toward me, and I feel Portia surge forward. She also has some unfinished business, but I instinctively hold her back by the arm, not wanting her to get hurt by Tommy again. Tommy laughs at my protective action, and Portia stomps on my foot, forcing me to let go. She steps away from me and scowls.

“So, the gutter-rat is making a play for the used-car hottie. Isn't that really pathetic?”

Tommy's buddies laugh at his lame joke, but the rest of us remain motionless. I am uneasy about Tommy's new nickname for me. What does this kid know? Tommy reaches his hand toward me; he holds a piece of folded paper in it. I lean forward cautiously and take it, expecting to be rushed at any moment. I keep the note in my hand but don't unfold it, and Tommy smirks. “See you after school!” he says, turning away from us and walking down the hall, the other bullies trailing behind him.

Portia makes a short, irritated noise and turns to me. “Why did you stop me, Danny?”

she asks heatedly.

“I thought you wanted me to protect you guys,” I reply.

“I do. It's just—well—he deserves to be smacked in the face!”

I try not to smile but can't help myself. That is the first unkind comment I have heard from Portia. And I agree wholeheartedly with her; Tommy deserves to be smacked.