The Princess of Las Pulgas (35 page)

We
circle
each
other
and
I
drop
my
weapon,
keeping my
hand
out
in
front
and
open.

“You
going
to
slap
me
to
death,
or
what?”
he
smirks.

The
snide
look
on
his
face
makes
me
furious,
but
I
remember
that
I
have
to
keep
calm.
The
key
is
to
wait
until
he
comes
toward
me.
Then
use
his
own
force
and
weight
against
him.

He
lunges
and
I
catch
his
wrist,
swing
under
his
arm
and
pull,
throwing
him
off
balance
and
sending
him
headfirst
away
from
me.
He’s
quick
to
recover
and
yanks
free
of
my
grip.

His
fists
are
thick
and
I
can
almost
feel
the
blow
he’s
about
to
deliver
to
my
head.
I
duck
as
he
steps
forward,
but
then
suddenly
he’s
on
his
knees.
Somebody’s
tackled
him.

It’s
Juan!
And
then
Grits
jumps
in,
dragging
Chico
to
his feet,
pinning
his
arms
behind
him.
Juan
grabs
Chico’s
shirt
and
pushes
him
against
the
wall.
Jamal,
Pavan
and
Doc
surround
him,
and
when
Juan
lets
go,
Chico
raises
his
hands
in
surrender.

Keith,
still
gasping
from
the
sucker
punch
in
the
gut,
gets
to
his
feet
and
shoves
Grits
to
the
side.
“It’s
my
fight!
Not
yours.”

The
shouts
start
again,
but
it’s
too
late
to
finish
the
battle
now
that
Mr.
Bins
and
Mr.
Icky
push
their
way
through
the
crowd.
Mr.
Bins
steps
between
Chico
and
Keith.

“So
is
this
settled?”
He
asks
with
his
hands
on
his
hips,
like
a
referee.

I
expect
Bins
to
haul
Keith
off
for
more
time
at
Juvie.
But
my
brother
surprises
me.

“I
was
wrong!”
Keith
pants.
“I’m
.
.
.
I’m
sorry
for
what
I
did,
and
I’d
like
another
chance.”

As
the
crowd
erupts
in
boos
and
catcalls,
Grits
puts
two
fingers
between
his
teeth.
His
shrill
whistle
instantly
stops
all
the
commotion.
It’s
almost
like
he’s
hit
a
mute
button.

“Okay,
you
guys.
I
asked
Keith
to
join
the
team
this
year,
so
shut
the
hell
up
about
it.”

“Like
hell,”
Chico
yells.
“I’m
not
letting
him
on
the
team!”

Juan
snaps
around
to
face
Chico
with
both
fists
clenched,
and
Chico
takes
a
step
back.

I’m
surprised
when
Mr.
Bins
doesn’t
speak
up.
Instead,
he
seems
to
be
waiting
for
Keith
and
Chico
to
finish
their
feud.
The
final
bell’s
already
rung,
but
half
the
student
body
is
still
here,
crowded
into
this
hallway.

K.T.
stands
next
to
Big
Teeth,
their
arms
flung
across
each
other.
Juan,
his
lips
tight,
is
next
to
Doc.
When
our
eyes
meet,
he
looks
at
me
questioningly,
then
he
slowly
crosses
the
space
between
us
and
asks,
“Are
you
all
right?”

I
nod,
because
I’m
shaking.
And
whatever
bravery
I
had
during
the
fight
is
all
drained
away.
I
want
to
tell
him
about
Keith’s
shouted
apology.
“I—”

But
then
Mr.
Smith
pushes
his
way
through
the
crowd
and
takes
me
by
the
arm,
asking,
“Are
you
hurt,
Carlie?”

“Uh,
no,”
I
tell
him.

Across
from
us
Anthony
and
his
two
friends
stand
with
their
arms
folded.
Anthony’s
staring
at
me,
but
this
time
it’s
with
curiosity,
instead
of
his
usual
dark
angry
eyes.
He
glances
at
Juan,
then
back
at
me,
before
turning
his
attention
to
the
main
event.

Grits
slowly
walks
inside
the
circle
of
grim-faced
students
surrounding
Keith
and
Chico.
“I
don’t
know
about
the
rest
of
you
track
guys,
but
I’m
setting
new
records
this
year,
and
I’m
planning
on
leaving
those
Channing
scum-buckets
in
the
dust.”

The
hallway
explodes
with
applause.

“Keith
said
he
made
a
mistake
and
he’s
sorry.
You
all
too
perfect
to
accept
his
apology?”
Grits
asks.
“We
need
Keith.
He’s
good.
He’ll
help
us
whip
Channing’s
butt.”
Grits
holds
up
Keith’s
arm,
as
if
he’s
a
winner
of
a
boxing
match,
and
three
of
the
track
team
guys
push
through
the
crowd
of
students
to
stand
next
to
him.
I
expect
Anthony
to
side
with
Chico,
but
he
surprises
me
and
takes
a
slow
step
to
join
Grits.
Then
his
two
surly
friends
fall
in
behind
h
im, leaving
Chico
pushed
into
the
background.