Kung Fu High School (11 page)

Strange but true: Kung Fu has the best special education program in the state. In fact, it's probably the only legitimate reason why they haven't shut us down. That special ed program is all because of Ridley and he did it all because of Fred. Everyone knows that Ridley pulled the strings to get the best teachers, transportation, and training programs. Our track record for graduating kids from special education to real paying jobs (if they wanted 'em) was basically 100%. So when other parents were struggling to get their "normal" kids transferred away from Kung Fu, parents of mentally disabled children were putting their kids on the waiting list. Welcome to irony.

There's a little story about that too. Four years back, someone wanted to get to Ridley by going through his pet project and they took a few hostages. Bad idea. When all was said and done, Ridley had meaty parts of the perpetrators carved up and mailed to their own grandparents in those really expensive mail order steak packages with a note saying that they had won them. Probably all of them got eaten. That was what made his reputation as a genuinely evil guy.

Jimmy got pushed into the room by Mock, one of Ridley's bodyguards. It amazed me that he still let people push him around. That he still took that promise to his mom so seriously.

"Freddy, can you leave please? I'll see you at lunchtime and I'll bring the pickles." Ridley was tender when he said it, quiet but firm.

"Okay!" Fred said, and obeyed the request, leaving the room and saying good-bye to Mock on the way out. This was a bad sign. With Fred gone, Nice Ridley was gone too. Anything could happen.

He finally looked over at me.

"I know you want revenge, Jen, and you have every right to. I don't like how this came about. I don't like it one bit. In fact, just to make up for it, I'll take care of Alfredo for you," Ridley said. "Traitors are such despicable people. How can they possibly be trusted again once they've betrayed someone?"

Just then, 'Fredo walked in. He wasn't wearing any body armor. I could tell. Arrogant bastard thought he had nothing to fear from Ridley or me. Thought he was untouchable. He was flaunting it in my face, gloating. That's when it all came together: 'Fredo had killed my big brother all to get in good with Ridley. Maybe it went even deeper. Nothing else mattered. Promises
had
been exchanged, and 'Fredo, that stupid sap, had believed every single one of them. The whole meeting was a setup from the word go.

"Speak of the devil." Ridley gestured toward 'Fredo and he just grinned.

"But you're in a most difficult position now, Miss Jen. With Cue gone, who will protect you and Jimmy? Indeed, what will happen to your family if Alfredo is gone? The Waves will be cannibalized. If you're lucky, it will be by the Wolves. If not, one of mine. Are you willing to take that risk? Many family members could be lost either way, by defections, or accidents. And it would be all your call." Ridley was right.

'Fredo's broke-ass grin had elevated to a smirk. He knew Ridley was right too and that he was the only salvation of the Waves, if you could still call it salvation. With his face all tied up in that smirk like the top of a garbage bag, 'Fredo crossed his arms over his chest and threw his head back. He had no idea about the stakes.

It was a choice and it wasn't. The chances of 'Fredo actually protecting us were less than low. If I passed on Ridley's offer, 'Fredo'd probably do a clear out as soon as we left the room and then immediately turn the Waves into another puppet family for Ridley's bidding. No, I knew he would, no probablies about it. Clear outs are the worst nightmare of every kid at Kung Fu. If you got cleared out of your family, you were fair game: either to be picked up by a new family, or worse and much more likely, to be torn up. On the flip side of the coin, if 'Fredo was gone, the Waves couldn't survive. Our only fighter strong enough to step up and lead was Jimmy but he wouldn't.

Ridley stared at me, right in my eyes. He wanted a sign. The code dictated that I could call 'Fredo out but Ridley was offering to do it for me. It was the strangest thing, Ridley trying to give me the impression that he was playing by the rules. There really was no choice. I couldn't attack 'Fredo here. It was Ridley's show. 'Fredo had his long black comb in his hand and was running it through his hair, slicking it back so it was nice and straight. He aimed his smirk at me and it turned into a half-smile. My stomach tried to eat itself. I tasted Cue's blood in my mouth, between my teeth. I nodded, smiling right back at him. It was almost comforting. I didn't need to beg for justice, didn't need to beg for something that Ridley was so willing to give. 'Fredo killed Kyuzo, 'Fredo must not live.

The comb was in the air, extended up from 'Fredo's fist as he patted his head along his scalp to find straying hairs, then decided to pull the long, black Cadillac of combs through his hair once more. His arm didn't get past halfway. Ridley stabbed 'Fredo in the throat one, two, opening a vertical gash, three, four, five, tearing out a large chunk of his voice box and flinging it across the room, six, seven, the point now reaching all the way to the back of his throat and rebounding off a vertebra and making a percussive sound like a dentist's scraper tool tapping on teeth, eight, nine times with a kinfé I didn't even see until it was done. And when it was, 'Fredo didn't have a larynx, or tonsils, just a ragged hole the size of a pool table pocket gaping from his throat. He never saw it coming. Ridley had come from behind too fast. I heard Jimmy moan behind me.

"There. Now we're even." Ridley dropped 'Fredo to the floor. The guy was spasming, trying to scream but only sounding like a wet and windy day. He puked too and it never made it to his mouth, just went out the new hole and onto the floor; everybody could tell he'd had scrambled eggs for breakfast. That kind of stuff happens sometimes when a body goes into acute shock. Systems screw up and evacuate. The acidy smell of the vomit mixed with the blood still pumping out of him in rhythm with his heart. The kinfé landed with a small splash on the floor, next to a pair of bulging eyes. Fredo was still clutching his comb, white-knuckled. It was probably the last thing he ever saw.

But a part of me believes that he wasn't quite dead when I rammed his own kinfé so deep into his left eye socket that part of the hilt disappeared and it didn't stop 'til it hit the back of the braincase. I'd lined it up. The eyeball made a squishing sound just before it disappeared and the four sharp edges tore through millions of myelin sheaths, ripping axon from dendrite, cutting cord after electric impulse cord, turning off the power in that fucked-up brain. Just like he'd done to Cue.

I was slower with the next one. Held his other eyelid open with my index finger and used the heel of my palm to lean my weight into the kinfé. The stupid fuckin' worthless corneye wobbled like a cube of gelatin and then split apart, husked, gone forever. I half expected the brown iris to break like a raw yolk and contaminate the yellow-white of the eye, to mix. It didn't. Instead the whole membrane tore like the white flesh of a hard-boiled egg and some fluid drained out. Like a pierced water balloon. I caught the briefest glimpse of a thin, corded retina—still twitching—as I worked the blade into the cavity, cutting what I imagined as a gushing red cross into the ultrasoft tissue of that dead brain just behind. I pushed my ice into him, Cue's and mine together. But seeing 'Fredo's body torn from its life did not thaw me. Leftover crystals still stuck to my insides. They'd never melt. Took me some time to let go of the last kinfé. Couldn't really feel it in my hands.

Ridley had already stepped away from the mess and taken his glasses off. All the better to wipe the blood spatters off them.

"Never say I didn't do
you
any favors," he said as he pulled his bloody shirt off next, flexing his pale, hairless muscles covered in small ropes of cherry-colored keloid scars so thick they might as well have been woven onto his chest, stomach, shoulders, and upper arms. Circles, spiral patterns, zigging, lightningesque verticals and diagonal ones so thin they looked like they'd been drawn on. He was staring hard, but with admiration, at me. Mock handed him a brand clean polo shirt with a green, blue, and black vertical stripe pattern. He'd known all along what I would choose. So much so that he'd brought a clean shirt for afterward. Fuck. I could feel it in my chest: I'd made the wrong decision. I'd lost it. Cue wouldn't've made the wrong choice. I was hopeless as a leader. Look, my hands were shaking.

The worst part was, Ridley was right. It
was
a favor, in a real fucked-up way. He could've left 'Fredo alive and easily controlled the Waves through him, but he must've known that I was coming for him eventually. The whole thing was a game to Ridley. One way or another, the Waves would not survive as they once had, in opposition to Ridley. No matter what, he won. Machiavelli would've been so proud.

"Mock, call DBD please," Ridley said.

Leather-bound notebook in hand, he stepped over the growing puddle—the one that made tall islands of my boots—surrounding 'Fredo's unmoving body, but turned around in the doorway to ask me one last royal question before smoothing his collar down and disappearing into the hall, laughing.

"Got a date for the prom yet, Jen?"

There wasn't enough time to tell the Waves. Soon all the Hunters would know that 'Fredo had left the building. They'd be joining one of Ridley's gangs. The old rock and a hard place, I knew exactly how it would go down too. Ridley would tell the Hunters 1 killed 'Fredo in retribution. They would believe him—very persuasive, that Ridley. Not like it was a total lie anyway. I had to work fast and I couldn't handle Jimmy's questions. I had to broker a deal.

"Jesus, Jenny! Fuck! What did you just do?!" He didn't pull at my arm or grab on my shirt or anything like that but his presence was tugging hard at me.

I couldn't say anything. I had to find Melinda, fast. Just had to walk quickly and with purpose. It's always a good idea to do it whenever you're in an area you think is sketchy. ESPECIALLY if you have no idea where you're going. Don't walk at top speed, just fast enough that you can turn real quick like you meant to. The worst thing to do is double back.

"This is crazy."

"I'll see you at lunch." It was all I could say.

I didn't look back when I rounded the corner. I couldn't. I was sick at me. My stomach was trying to eat itself, for real this time. Hands still shook, blood-covered. I hid them in my pockets. No, I didn't blame Jimmy for Cue's death. I didn't. That would've come anyway, whether by 'Fredo's hand or someone else's. So Ridley sayeth, so shall it be done.

Ridley's killing of 'Fredo was supposed to be a good thing, was supposed to make everything simple. Ridley wanted me to think it was the honorable thing, but the truth was, 'Fredo fucked up. There were witnesses. See, I'm not exactly sure what he was thinking, doing it in the open in front of me and Jimmy, but maybe he thought it'd be good as a show of power. Or maybe he just panicked. Truth be told, if Cue had just disappeared with no witnesses to verify the identity of the killer, we'd've been in a lot worse situation. There'd've been nobody to blame. Three years ago, the Muds got wiped out practically overnight. The same thing happened, their Pop caught three kinfés in soft spots but no one even saw it. Had no idea who did it. Didn't help that nobody left was good enough to step in. The other families smelled blood and circled every last vendetta 'til there was none. Whoever was left the next morning decided to take up the Runners on their offer of membership. But witnesses meant leverage. I knew who had done it and I knew who had ordered it: Ridley. Hands still shook though.

See, if Mr. Big-Time Drug Dealer had had ultimate power from the get-go, none of this would've happened. Kung Fu wouldn't've grown up like this with everyone in different families to protect each other. But as Ridley got more powerful, alliances got made and people started disappearing. That's called getting transferred. Slowly but surely, the number of families opposing Ridley has dwindled. I got to give him one thing: he's patient. It's been years and not once has there been a major bloodletting that couldn't be covered up fast. Every year he gets stronger.

The Wolves own the north side of the library. I passed by it and its awful green doors but there was no Melinda inside. It was more serious than I thought. So I had to double back because I knew that she must've been downstairs in the home ec room, next to the cafeteria. That's where they held their secret meetings. By now the senior Wolves would already be deciding our fates, probably already had the charts out and were ready to make some "x"s. But I still had one trick left.

The chances of me running into Cap'n Joe on his DBD detail had to be below minimal but there he was, right in front of me. I shouldn't've doubled back. Dead Body Disposal, as Ridley always called him, worked for Dermoody. He took care of anything that needed fixing, everything that could ever cast Dermoody in a bad light.

"Why aren't you in class, squaw?" Cap'n Joe called all girls squaws and all boys braves. I don't know why. He just did.

"I got a note," I said, and I knew he wouldn't ask to see it because he had a big black bag in his arms. It had a conspicuous 'Fredo shape to it.

I knew Cap'n Joe was going to let me off with a warning because he had no time to check into my fictional note. But a warning at Kung Fu was guaranteed to leave a mark. When this happens, do not dodge. Take it. Otherwise, there might be more, a lot more. So grit up, be ready for the blow and make it look more painful than it is. Sadistic bastards love that.

Cap'n Joe's boot caught me in the left knee and drove the cap in hard against the joint. I knew he was going for it so I kept my weight off that leg. A solid enough kick to a knee you got your weight on and it's torn ligament city but as it was, I just stumbled forward like it really hurt but actually, it was just a ploy to get past him. The pain brought me back to my body. Forced me to feel. Shifted some of the ice.

I didn't look back. That would've invited more, and he already had one body to take care of. Best not to make it two just because I didn't like how the game was played. He had to be the big macho man, the big in-charge guy. They all do. From Ridley to Dermoody to Cap'n Joe, it didn't matter who it was. If it was a guy, he wanted to be the baddest.