The Fourth Stall - Chris Rylander [15]
When I got to his house, I found Joe sitting calmly on the stump of a tree that had been cut down a few years ago. Joe had convinced his dad not to dig up the stump and it became Joe’s favorite chair. He always called dibs on it long before Vince or I could even open our mouths.
“Hey, Mac,” he said.
I nodded at him. It looked like he’d put up a good fight. He had a reddish purple eye and his lower lip was a little swollen.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Oh yeah, fine. I’m kind of worried about Vince, though,” he said.
Joe was one tough guy, that was for sure. I didn’t think I would be so calm after getting punched in the face. I didn’t think any kid could be so calm after getting punched. It’s moments like this that make me pretty happy he’s on my side.
“What happened to Vince?” I asked.
Vince was a funny guy, and he was super smart and good with money and numbers, but like I said before, he’s not very good at confrontations. He usually just avoids them altogether. Joe caught his breath while I looked out into the street. I didn’t see any sign of Vince. Joe’s house was only a few blocks from where it had all happened, so Vince should have been there by now.
“What happened, Joe?” I asked again, trying not to sound as panicked as I felt.
“Well, the other three came right after me first and Vince ran. I think Barnaby wanted revenge, because basically the two high schoolers held me down while Barnaby pounded me like a punching bag. But then Vince came back. He shouted at them to get their attention and then he started making fun of them. He really let them have it, too. It was pretty funny. Anyways, one of the high schoolers went after Vince and that’s the last I saw of him. But he saved my butt, because once it was down to just two, I was able to fend them off pretty easily. After I got a few punches in, the chickens took off just like Willis did this morning,” Joe finished. That sounded like Vince; he was basically the least glamorous hero that ever existed.
“We should go look for him,” I said.
“I’m sure he’s okay, Mac. He had a decent head start.”
I nodded. And we needed to wait there because that’s our protocol if we get split up in a pinch. But it wasn’t as easy as it sounds. Just sitting there while Vince was possibly in danger was basically torture.
We waited for almost ten minutes, but it seemed like ten days. I was starting to get so worried that I thought I might cry, which would have been embarrassing. I kept picturing the horrible things those high school kids might’ve been doing to Vince right at that very moment. All the while Vince would probably be trying to make jokes, too.
Finally, Vince showed up. He came walking casually into the backyard from the street. He looked okay, as far as I could tell.
“What took you?” I asked. Though, really, I didn’t care. I was just relieved he’d made it back in one piece.
“I just wanted to make sure it was all clear. Are you okay?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Thanks for helping me out, Vince,” Joe said.
“What happened? Didn’t he get you?” I asked Vince.
He shook his head and laughed.
“It was close, but I got away. When he came after me, I ran faster than I ever have before. He chased me all the way down to Pete’s house. He was going to catch me, too, but I knew that if I got to Pete’s house his mom would be outside gardening. And I knew that he wouldn’t dare touch me with some lady watching.”
Pete’s mom was obsessed with her garden. One time we were over at his house playing baseball in the street and the ball landed in her garden. She screamed at us and then picked the ball up and threw it on the roof. She was kind of crazy.
“So she was outside, then?” I asked.
“Is the Pope Catholic?”
“I don’t know, is he?”