Hit Squad (4 page)

Mickey looked across at her while she and Larry carried on with their discussion. Candy was no Birgit Neilsen, but she was okay. She was an ordinary girl, skinny, all sharp angles, brown eyes and mop of dark hair. He tried to tune them all out as they chattered together like birds. He thought about the secret meeting. Heck helped himself to more salad from the bowl. Annie sat smiling and watching. Candy was saying something, trying to catch Mickey's attention, but he didn't notice. He was too busy thinking about Birgit Neilsen.

He thought about her all weekend.

Candy noticed. “Have you got something on your mind, Mickey?” she asked him on Sunday morning.

Heck was out front, shooting baskets with Sammy and Jimmy.

Mickey shook his head.

“Do you want to come with me and Heck to church?”

“No thanks.”

“Heck would like it if you did. You know how much he loves being in church. With the singing and all. And everyone dressed up. It's the only time he gets to wear his jacket and tie and his good black shoes.”

“No thanks.”

“He thinks an awful lot of you, Mickey. You know that, don't you? He looks up to you.”

“I hear Joey Washington's out of hospital. I thought I'd go see how he is.”

“You could see Joey after church.”

“No thanks.”

Candy looked at him. Those brown eyes of hers had a way of looking at him sometimes like she was reading his mind. She smiled. She had a nice smile. The corner of her mouth tilted up on one side slightly more than the other. It was a tilted kind of smile. But it made sense because she was a tilted kind of girl. “Suit yourself,” she said.

He biked over to Joey's Creekside house where he lived with three brothers and two sisters. His mom and dad had taken the other kids to church. Joey was home alone. He was wearing dark glasses. His face was swollen and discolored below the glasses. He let Mickey in, moving slowly as if he was in pain. He switched off the TV and then lay on the couch, moving carefully. His right arm was in a sling.

“So how are you feeling, Joey?” said Mickey. “What's with the sling?”

Talking was difficult for Joey. He spoke slowly. “Broken collarbone. Broken rib. Black eyes. Split lip.”

“School washroom, right?”

“Right. Two big guys. They jumped me soon as I came through the door.”

“They take anything? Money?”

“Nothing. Didn't even go through my pockets. Just kicked the crap out of me and told me to go back to Creekside.”

Mickey didn't stay long. Joey was finding it hard to talk.

On Monday the secret society met again. Birgit sat on the desk, same as before. She said, “We need a name for our secret society. Any suggestions?”

“Hit Squad,” Whisper whispered.

“Okay,” said Birgit. “But it sounds a bit much, don't you think? A bit heavy? How about Grandview Clean-up Committee?” She looked around. “Any other suggestions? Peter? Michael?”

Peter said, “I like your suggestion, Birgit. Clean-up Committee sounds good.” Today he sat on the sofa beside Whisper. Mickey was beginning to dislike Peter, the way he always sucked up to Birgit. Mickey sat in the overstuffed chair.

Birgit looked amazing in skirt and knee-socks. Whisper wore good stuff too. Mickey hadn't noticed on Friday. Today he had on a plain white cotton T-shirt, a lambskin leather jacket and fitted jeans that molded to his big thighs. Mickey was the odd man out: same old jeans, wearing thin at the knees; gray Value Village nylon jacket; blue Army &
Navy sports shirt, one of three he rotated; collapsed no-name runners.

“Let's take a vote,” said Birgit. “Who's for Grandview Clean-up Committee?” She put up her own hand. Peter's followed.

Birgit said, “Hit Squad?”

Whisper and Mickey put up their hands.

“A tie,” said Birgit.

Peter held up a coin. “Heads for Cleanup; tails for Hit Squad.” He tossed it in the air.

“Hit Squad it is then,” said Birgit. “Next item on the agenda: we've got to swear an oath of secrecy. Nobody knows who we are or what we do. Agreed?”

The three boys nodded.

Birgit said, “We must swear never to tell. Hold up your right hands and say, ‘I swear!'”

The three boys held up their hands. “I swear!” they said.

“That nobody knows who we are or what we do,” said Birgit.

“That nobody knows who we are or what we do,” they repeated.

“Okay, let's get to it,” said Birgit. “Our first clean-up job, I mean hit. I say let's get the thugs who beat up Joey Washington. He's out of hospital but he was hurt pretty bad. The only reason he was mugged was because of his skin color. It's obvious. They didn't try to steal from him. Can you believe it? Any other suggestions?”

Whisper whispered to Mickey, “What skin color is this guy?”

Mickey whispered back, “Black.”

Peter said, “What about the three animals who assaulted you in the stockroom?”

Birgit's eyes gleamed. “If you like. I just didn't want it to be only
my
agenda. Any other suggestions?”

Mickey almost suggested the Agostino brothers, but he held back. There was lots of time to get those slobs.

Silence.

Then Whisper spoke. “I heard what they did to you. They're scum. We can take care of Joey's muggers later. When we find out who they are.”

“Let's hit Birgit's attackers, the three animals,” said Peter, nodding.

“Michael?” said Birgit.

“Fine by me,” he said.

“The three animals it is,” said Birgit. “Shelley Crewell. Jessie Jones. Mona Tease-dale. Our first hit.”

Mona Teasedale didn't know why she'd felt so bad all day.

She wondered whether she should call Shelley and Jessie and say she was sick. But she would miss the party tonight at Red Grinwald's. Red was nineteen and shared an apartment with Tommy Garr, also nineteen. Mona usually had a good time at Red's. He never seemed to mind if you didn't bring any
booze or grass; he always had lots. So she was reluctant to stay home. Maybe she'd feel better once she got out of her boring house where all her mother ever did was watch TV. Her dad had split years ago.

Two hours later, at the party, she still felt wobbly. Red's apartment was wall-to-wall people, and the music thumped in time with her headache. She saw Red's pig-shaved head coming at her through the crowd.

“Take a shot of this, Mona baby, and you'll feel great.” He held out a glass.

She'd already had too much beer. “No thanks, Red. I think I'd better find the others and go home.”

He put the glass down on a table and reached his hands around to massage the back of her neck. The skin of his fingers was rough from his bricklaying. He had a brick-red complexion, too. And his hair used to be red before he shaved it all off.

“Come and lie down for a while.”

Mona could see Red's bedroom from where she stood. “No thanks, Red.” She
spotted Shell across the room with Tommy. They were necking.

“I'll give you a massage. You'll feel better.” Red had to shout over the noise of the music video.

“I said good-night, Red.” She crossed the floor and yelled in her friend's ear. “Shell, get Jessie. I've gotta go. I don't feel good, okay? You coming or do you want to stay?”

Shelley pouted. She didn't relish the thought of walking home alone, but she wanted to stay. “Can you take me home later, Tommy?”

Tommy shook his head. “Can't drive.” He grinned. “License suspended. Why don't you stay, Shell, we got room.” He grinned again.

Shelley shook her head. “Okay, Mona, I'm coming. I'll grab Jessie. Good night, Tommy. Maybe another time.”

When the three girls got outside it was cold and dark. It had been raining. Street-lights reflected off the slick pavement. Mona felt lousy. She couldn't wait to get into bed.
Shelley and Jessie were talking nonstop, but the words just flew over Mona's aching head.

They turned the corner onto Pandora Street where it was darker and the wind cut into Mona's ribs. She thrust her fists deep into her pockets.

A van screeched to a stop right across their path and three black-clothed figures leaped out from the front. Their faces were hidden behind ski masks. The girls screamed. Mona felt herself thrust violently into the back of the van with her two friends. The three girls fell in a heap together, yelling and struggling, on the van floor. Two of the attackers jumped in behind them and slammed the door shut.

The van took off, tires squealing. Mona struggled to a sitting position, heart beating so fast she was sure it was about to burst. She fought to get her breath. They were being kidnapped. She tried to keep her head as she felt another wave of panic sweep over her. She must think. There were four of them—two in back, two in front. The two in front just
looked straight ahead out the windshield.

Mona looked out the window. They were heading towards downtown. Whenever they reached a lighted area, Mona saw that Shelley's and Jessie's faces were white with fear.

What did they want? It couldn't be a kidnap for money. The next thought to flash into her head was so frightening it made her lash out with her bare fists at the closest kidnapper, who fell back into the driver. The car swerved dangerously. One of the men in the back grabbed her arms and pulled her away while the other slapped her face. The blow stung. Mona started to cry.

“What do you want? Where are you taking us?” demanded Shelley fiercely.

Now that Mona had recovered a little from her initial shock she had time to look at their captors more closely. They were built like high school kids. Could they be from Grandview?

They had driven through downtown. Now they were headed down Georgia Street, towards Stanley Park.

Soon they were in the park, the twin beams of the van's headlights picking out tall stands of cedar and pine in the dark mist.

Mona was scared. There was no way they'd be able to run for it here. Where could they run? The park was so big.

Shelley groaned and muttered something Mona couldn't hear.

The van lurched to a stop. The doors were thrown open. The three ninth-grade girls were dragged out roughly onto the grass. Mona was trembling. The ski masks gave the four kidnappers an even more menacing appearance in this dark and deserted place. One of them forced her over to the front of the van and into the glare of its headlights. He pulled her wrists around and behind a tree and tied them together. He was very rough. She could tell he was enjoying her pain and terror. He was laughing quietly, a low whisper of a laugh. He had tied her wrists too tight. The pain made her bite her lip. She could hear Shelley and Jessie yelling behind her. She turned, crab-like, around the tree trunk until
she could see her friends. They were also tied to trees. They were terrified.

One of the kidnappers was carrying something from the van, a loaded pack-sack it looked like. Mona squinted but couldn't see properly because of the blinding headlights.

The kidnappers did not speak. Mona thought they had to be from Grandview High. Where else? The whole thing had been planned, but why? What was this all about? Who at Grandview would do a thing like this? Was it Bobbie Agostino? He was cruel enough. He'd asked her out and she had turned him down in front of his brother and a bunch of his friends. Not only that but she had laughed and called him a sicko. Told him she didn't go out with perverts. It was stupid of her, she knew. But she couldn't resist insulting the guy. He was such a loser. This kidnapping caper was just the kind of thing he'd think up. But why drag Shelley and Jessie into it? Because they just happened to be there? That didn't make sense. Then she
thought of that Neilsen girl. Birgit! The one they got down on the art stockroom floor. Shelley and Jessie were in on that one. The three of them were.

Mona felt sick, and it wasn't because of all the booze she had drunk at Red's. She looked over at Shelley and Jessie. They looked sick too. Maybe the same suspicion was going through their heads. That the blonde girl was the one behind it. If it really was Birgit Neilsen, what could they do? Tell the police? Mona hated the police. Tell the school principal, Mr. McCann? Forget it. Complaining to the principal would get them nowhere. Besides, how could they prove it was Birgit?

Shelley spoke up, yelling, in a panic. “Don't you know kidnapping is a federal offense?” She had heard that line in a dozen movies.

There was no answer. So far, except for that whispery laugh, the kidnappers had remained silent.

Mona wanted to throw up; she was going
to pass out. Her legs wouldn't support her properly. The pain in her wrists was unbearable. She slumped against the tree and slid down to its base. Her aching arms were stretched behind her. She sat on the cold wet ground. Her hair was grabbed roughly from behind. She heard the sound of scissors. Her hair was being lopped off in hunks!

Mona cried. She couldn't bear to think of her beautiful hair being cut off. What would she tell everybody, especially her mother? She couldn't see her two friends now. Her head was being held back and all she could see was the canopy of tree branches above. The scissors had stopped. Now she could feel her head being painted with a wide brush.

And then her hands were free. She felt her head with her fingertips. Her fingers had very little feeling left in them. Hardly anything was left of her hair under the sticky wet paint. She wiped away her tears with the backs of her wrists. She could hear her friends sobbing.

“Shell!” she cried. “Jessie!”

The kidnappers were in their van. Mona could not see the license plate number. She heard the doors slam shut and the motor start. The light and sound receded as the van drove away, and she was left in darkness. “Shell?” she cried. “Jess?”

“It was so sweet!” said Whisper, cracking a knuckle for extra emphasis.