“Better not.” Cody glanced around to see if anybody might be watching. They were almost to the middle of the dirt lot. It was a big space, a full block wide. It had always reminded Cody of TV shows and movies, where kids gathered to play baseball or football, but the only game he’d ever seen in this particular lot was a group of kids throwing rocks at a stray cat, and once, when he’d only been in grade school, some teenagers fighting.
A shiver worked its way up Cody’s spine, the sunshine suddenly not nearly as warm as it had been. His steps slowed.
“What is it?” Nate asked.
Cody glanced around again. The houses on both sides seemed awfully far away, all of them drooping and tattered. Cody guessed at least half of them were vacant. But it wasn’t the houses he was worried about. He scanned the edges of the lot.
And there, waiting on the corner near the back of the gas station, Brian Anderson and Brad Williams stood with three other boys from the Grove. Once they realized they’d been spotted, they laughed and started forward.
Cody grabbed Nate’s arm to stop him. “Shit.” How could he have been so stupid? He should have known to stay on the sidewalk, even though it was a less direct route. It might not have saved them, but it would have at least put them within shouting distance of help.
He turned to check behind them, wondering if they could run, although God knew where they’d go. But no. He didn’t know where they’d been hidden, but Tom Watson, Billy Jones, Lance Donaldson, and Larry Lucero were closing in fast from that side.
Brad and Brian had planned it well, from slashing Nate’s tires to knowing which way Cody had to walk to get home.
“Is this what I think it is?” Nate asked, his voice shaking.
“If you think it’s you and I about to get our asses kicked, then yeah, that’s what it is.”
“Hey,” Brian called gleefully as they closed the distance between them. “Look who it is! The town fags, out for a stroll. Don’t let us interrupt your romantic moment, boys.”
Cody ignored him, turning in a circle again to see if there was an obvious escape route. The gang was spreading out, moving to surround them, but Brian’s group was coming from the right side of the gas station, leaving a bit of a gap to Cody and Nate’s left.
“You run,” Cody said, trying to pitch his voice low. He pointed quickly. “That way. Get to the gas station—”
“To hell with that. There are nine of them. Even if I could outrun them, I’m not leaving you here.”
And in the time it had taken to have that brief exchange, the window had closed anyways.
Cody weighed the odds. There were more of the Grove residents, but they weren’t as dangerous. They were spoiled rich brats. Sure, some of them played football, or wrestled, but the three farm kids with Larry Lucero worried him a lot more. They’d be stronger and tougher.
He turned to face them, putting his back to Nate’s. Maybe the Grove group would take it easier on one of their own.
Probably not, but it was worth a shot.
Cody’s heart was racing, adrenaline making his fingertips tingle. He heard Nate’s notebook and calculus text hit the dirt. Cody took one last drag on his cigarette, imagining he could feel the nicotine flowing through his veins. If only it could give him superhuman strength, like Popeye with his damn spinach.
“Just stay out of the way, Cody,” Lance said. “It’s your boyfriend he wants.”
So much for wishing.
Cody sized up the boys he’d apparently have to fight. Larry wasn’t much of a threat, although he was certainly the one Cody hated the most. Tom was only a freshman, Billy a junior, but Lance was a senior, and a big one, too. With Logan gone, he was easily the biggest guy in the school.
If he could just take Lance out of the equation, he might have a chance. Then again, if he was only going to get in a few good licks, he’s just as soon aim them at Larry.
And as for Nate?
Well, he had to hope Nate could hold his own.
“I’ve been waiting for this all year,” Larry said, grinning. “Finally get to do it, now that Logan isn’t here to protect his favorite faggot.”
“Fuck it,” Cody said. “Let’s get this over with.” And before the boys in front of him could do anything else, he moved. He threw his cigarette butt in Lance’s face, pushed Billy as hard as he could into Tom, and threw a punch at Larry’s nose.
It landed too, solid and gratifying as hell.
But it was pretty much all downhill from there.
He fought hard, hitting whoever got in front of him, but after what felt like half an hour but could only have been a couple of minutes, Tom and Billy ended up holding his arms behind his back while Larry punched him several times in the face, then one last time in the stomach. They dropped him on his knees while he sucked air, his brain screaming for oxygen. Behind him, he could hear more punches falling and Brad and Brian laughing. He couldn’t hear Nate, but he had to assume Nate wasn’t faring much better than he was.