Dancing in Circles (Circles Trilogy) (25 page)

Paul stepped beside him.

"Hospital." A car drove closer and stopped. Paul helped Robert inside. With a squeal of the tires, the car raced across the parking lot, the TV camera following its path. Three police cars encircled it, forcing them to stop. The officers exited and pulled their guns. Paul and another member pushed open their doors while an officer opened the back door and dragged Robert out.

His shirt was covered in blood and he could barely stand, but he refused to be cowed by the policemen. Three officers pointed their guns at the Shoresmen. The officer closest to Robert spun him around and slammed him against the car. Paul jumped to protect Robert but was stopped by the wave of a gun.

"No weapon. No knife. Nothing," called the officer, whose gun was aimed point-blank Robert's head. "He's bleeding badly and has a few knife wounds."

"So let us take him to the hospital," cried Paul.

"What happened here?" asked the officer.

"Nothing," Robert had more words and adjectives he'd like to have added, but the cool feel of steel on his head made him keep his mouth under control.

"You always look like this?" The officer grabbed Robert's shirt, pulling him to attention.

Standing toe-to-toe and not blinking, Robert responded, "Cut myself shavin'." The officer moved. Robert braced for a punch then threw a sharp look at Paul. Robert's voice was filled with a contemptuous growl. "Ain't no gang. Ain't no fightin'. Just three guys pulling outta the mall parkin' lot. So piss off!"

Frustrated, the officer slammed Robert against the car and left. Paul moved to help Robert. "You shoulda let me hit the bastard."

"They coulda blown us away and nobody woulda ever known." Robert's brow crinkled. "I don't hurt no more. Cold. Tired. Feel like sleepin' for a long time."

Paul pushed Robert into the back seat and slammed the door. "Drive Franklin. Go. Go. Go."

The voice of the forgotten television announcer startled Julie. "I've just witnessed one of the most dramatic events I've ever seen. One man fighting to save his gang from a bloody war then having to defend himself from his own members. I don't know who that young man is, but my opinion of the Shoresmen leader has changed. I'm going to the hospital to see if he lives through the night.

“What kind of passion drives a man to fight for what he believes in against such overwhelming odds? This young man is not the trash we label him as. I think maybe it's time to leave the stereotyping behind and see who he really is. This is Jack Hanes leaving Bells Shopping Center and going to the hospital to report from there." The TV screen went black.

"Come on, Julie, I'll take you to the hospital." Her father placed the remote on a table then extended his hand to help her from the chair.

***

They found Paul in the emergency lobby. Worry etched his face. Julie sat next to him and placed a hand on his arm. Unable to find a seat, Mr. Anderson leaned on a Coke machine. The room was full of somber, quiet gang members waiting for news of their leader. The television reporter sat in a corner. The urgent voice of the intercom called, "Code Blue! Treatment room three!"

A doctor walked into the waiting area. Paul stood. They talked, then the doctor returned to the examining rooms. "He said Marco'll be stayin'. His arm needs surgery."

"Robert shoulda fuckin' killed him." A voice said.

"Robert?" asked another person.

"No word, yet." Paul sat next to Julie. "I think I should tell ya that ya broke his heart. He talked about ya. He said he doesn't know what he did wrong, but I'm supposed to apologize for him. He doesn't wanna end the relationship with ya angry at him."

Fighting to control her nerves, Julie said, "He and I can talk later."

Paul shook his head. "I've never seen him this bad. He's lost a lot of blood. Why'd he fight?"

Julie had no answers.

"He fought 'cause he's Shoresmen." The gang member seated across from her glared. "If ya lived here you'd understand."

The implied insult registered in Julie. It stole her breath. She glanced at Paul. "Am I to blame for this? Did he fight because—"

"He didn't want us gettin' killed." Paul spoke loud enough for the others to hear. "Some of us got families. He said, in the car, he didn't wanna say,
wherever ya are
no more. He said if he dies, bury him and forget it. That's his last order as Shoresmen leader." Paul's voice cracked. "He knows he's hurt bad."

A nurse stood next to Paul. "Um, gentlemen, I'm not kicking you out but there is no reason for you all to stay." She looked at Paul for support.

"She's right. Me and Julie'll stay."

Anthony stood. "Can I stay? I can ditch school tomorrow."

Paul pointed at him. "You ditch and Robert'll kick your ass. Go home." Anthony dropped his shoulders and followed the others out of the hospital.

Soon the waiting room was empty except for Paul, Julie, Mr. Anderson, the reporter and the cameraman. The reporter walked over. "Would either of you like to talk to me about this Robert fellow?"

"Depends. What do ya wanna know?" Paul narrowed his eyes as he glared at the man.

"Who is he? What kind of leader is he? Where did he learn to fight?" He glanced at his cameraman to see if he was recording the conversation. "All I've been able to dig up on him is his criminal record."

"You'll probably spread that all over the news," Julie snapped. "You're just looking for something sensational. Well, let me tell you, he's smart, kind, generous, loving and brave. He put his life on the line for his gang."

Paul cut in and carried on the defence. "You think of him as drug-crazed scum. I see the human side of him. Yea, he's done some stupid stuff. I was there when he did it. But he was a kid. He learned from his mistakes. What he did today took a lot of guts."

Fighting to control his emotions, Paul stood and faced the reporter. "Most people think of us as trash, but we're just lookin' out for ourselves. He goes to school. Westland Prep. A big part of his salary pays the tuition, but he won't quit. So take that to your viewers." He stomped away.

"Who is that?" asked the reporter.

Julie smiled. "Robert's best friend, Paul."

"And you are?"

"A friend."

"You don't look like the average female who runs with a gang."

"I'm not. I'm a classmate of Robert's."

"Oh, so you're the Westland babe."

Julie rolled her eyes.

"How did a Westland sophisticate end up dating a North Shore gang member?"

"When he's in Westland, he's no different from the rest of us. He's a good student and gets decent grades." She looked over at Paul. He looked scared and alone. She sat beside him. "He's going to be all right. You have to believe that."

"But what if—"

"No what ifs." Julie closed her eyes and shook her head. "Robert said I live in a fairy tale. And right now, I'm holding on to the thought, birds sing, bunnies hop and the hero never dies."

Paul's shoulders were slumped. His eyes were dull with worry. "Robert doesn't believe in fairy tales."

A nurse stepped closer. "Excuse me. Are you here about Robert Holiday?"

Julie nodded.

"We're taking him into surgery, but we need a release form. Is one of you a relative?"

Mr. Anderson shook his head. "He has no family that I know of. But he's been living with us. I'm Judge Anderson."

The nurse turned. "Come with me, please."

He nodded and hurried to catch up with the nurse.

After watching the door close behind Mr. Anderson, Paul broke the silence. "What happened between ya two? I asked Robert if he was fallin' in love with ya. He said someday he'd ask me about being in love, but he had this war to solve. He was almost in love once. Got hurt badly."

"Nothing happened between us, nothing bad that is. I just overreacted. I think we felt more for each other than we were ready to feel." Tears trickled down Julie's cheek. "He has to live Paul, so I can apologize. He can't die thinking I hate him."

Julie yawned and leaned against Paul's shoulder. Paul rested his head on the back wall. Soon, both fell asleep. Mr. Anderson returned and sat quietly reading old magazines and watching the minutes tick by.

Paul sighed, rubbed his face and looked over at Mr. Anderson. Julie's father shook his head. "No news yet."

Julie stirred at the sound of her father's voice. "What? Has something happened?"

"No news, hon." Mr. Anderson stood and stretched his legs. "I'm going for a cup of coffee. Want anything?" Julie and Paul shook their heads.

"I envy you," Julie said. "You got to know him for a long time. I only had a few weeks. I'd like more time."

Paul stared at the tile floor. "I was thinking about the good times, the parties, the girls…oh, guess I shouldn't mention them."

"That's okay." Julie smiled. "Is he a player?"

Paul nodded. "He could go through girlfriends faster than lightning. Shali had him tamed but after she was gone, he was as wild as ever. 'Til he met you."

"I find him an enigma. A puzzle. He looks like a gang member but doesn't act like one."

"He can play gang when he has to."

"He seems like a bad version of the Boy Scouts."

Paul threw back his head and laughed until he remembered where they were.

Mr. Anderson returned and settled on the nearby bench. Paul and Julie lost themselves in the memories of the moments they'd spent with Robert. Tears dribble down Julie's cheeks as she clenched her fists.
Keep believing in the fairy tale. Birds sing, bunnies hop and the hero never dies. Birds sing, bunnies hop and the hero—

"Excuse me?"

Julie looked at the doctor dressed in blood-stained surgical greens.

The doctor grinned. "He'll make it. He's in recovery. Tomorrow afternoon, he should be lucid enough for a guest or two." Julie hugged the doctor and planted a big kiss on his cheek. "Well that was certainly one of my better fee payments." He returned to the surgical area.

***

Dawn was breaking as they crossed the parking lot. Julie watched in awe as the colours intensified and changed.
Crisis one solved. Now, can I figure out how to fix the mess I made of my relationship with Robert?

***

Julie didn't go to the hospital. Each day she created a plausible excuse for her lack of visitations; schoolwork, dance practice or the weather. She'd hurt him. She saw it in his eyes, heard it in his voice and felt it in her heart. Too scared to face him, she conceded that sometimes being a chicken was the best solution.

Saturday afternoon, Julie's mother knocked on her bedroom door. "Paul's downstairs. He'd like to talk to you."

Julie steeled herself and followed her mother to the kitchen. Paul’s face was lined with worry, and his eyes were dull. She leaned a hip on the edge of the kitchen table. "Hi."

"Hi." Paul shifted his feet and glanced around the room. "Uh, how come ya ain't been to see Robert?"

A surge of guilt swept through her body. “I’ve been busy. You know, school and stuff?”

Confusion misplaced worry on Paul’s face. Julie’s heart raced. “He’s okay, right? He’s getting better?”

Paul rubbed his hand across his chin. "He just don't seem right."

Julie played with a jagged fingernail. Mrs. Anderson put on her coat, grabbed her car keys and tossed Julie her jacket. She didn't speak as she trudged to the car or rode to the hospital. She tried to think of what to say to Robert, but her mind was blank.

Paul met them in the hospital lobby then led the way. As they headed for the elevator, Julie froze. "What if he won't talk to me? What am I supposed to say?"

Her mother nudged her into the waiting elevator. Paul pushed button number six and they felt the rise of the elevator except Julie, who thought her stomach was about to sink to her feet. Her heart raced and her palms grew clammy. The doors opened and Paul turned to the left. As they walked down the hall, a jolt of fear shot through Julie at every door they neared. They'd pass a door and Julie's dread increased knowing she was that much closer to his room. Paul stopped. Julie's heart pounded.

"I've an idea," said Mrs. Anderson. "Paul, you go in and talk to him. Julie can listen and muster up some courage."

"Great idea." She was glad of any suggestion that delayed her having to face Robert.

Paul propped open the door to Robert's room. "Hey Bob, ya in here or have ya escaped?"

"I want out of here."

"Are they mistreating ya?" Paul stood by the foot of the bed. "Making ya take your pills and stay in bed?"

"Not funny. Trade places?"

"Normally the thought of spendin' all week in bed havin' gorgeous women look after me would be very appealin'. But since you're the courageous leader of our gang, I'll let you do it."

"Friends. Who needs'em?"

Paul laughed. "When ya gettin' out?"