The Fourth Stall - Chris Rylander [8]
“Hey, look at what I found,” he said with a slight accent. He talked like a wiseguy from some New York gangster movie.
He isn’t as big as I had thought, but I’m the smallest sixth grader in the school, so I still didn’t stand a chance either way. He wore cargo shorts and a black T-shirt. A small gold cross hung from a neck that supported a pointy face and gelled black hair.
I scooted back and tried to get to my feet but he was too quick. He stepped forward and pressed his foot onto my chest, pinning me to the floor. My lungs felt like a deflating whoopee cushion, only without any laughs.
“No you don’t,” he said.
I grabbed his foot and tried to lift it, but that only made him press down harder, so I let go.
“So,” he said as if he was starting a conversation with an old friend, “I hear that you’re harboring a fugitive?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said as calmly as I could. It was always best at these times to remain as calm as possible.
“Oh, you don’t? Oh, my bad. Sorry about that, sir. I guess I got the wrong guy. Here. I’ll help you up,” he said, faking like he was going to let me up.
I just lay there, trying to come up with a plan to get out of this.
“Hah! Just kidding,” he said, laughing at his stupid joke.
I felt myself starting to panic. Joe or Vince usually didn’t stop by here in the mornings. Heck, I usually didn’t either. I didn’t really stand a chance against this kid by myself and nobody would be coming to help me.
“Do you know that in most states harboring a fugitive is considered as serious an offense as being the fugitive himself?” Willis asked with a playful grin.
“Wow, I didn’t know that. Tell me all about it,” I said with a mocking air of wonder in my voice.
“Hey! Don’t be a smart guy! You’re in no position to talk to me like that,” he said, pressing his foot down a little harder to make his point.
“Okay,” I managed to squeeze out.
“Anyways, like I was saying, your little buddy Fred has threatened to rat out some very important people. Which is a pretty serious offense, as I’m sure you know. And as long as you’re helping him, you’re in just as much trouble as he is. Understand?” he said.
“Not really,” I grunted, even though I understood completely. It was getting hard to breathe under his foot.
He laughed.
“That’s too bad, Mac,” he said as he leaned in closer.
I saw his fist go back and I braced myself for the blow. I had no idea what to expect because I’d never been punched before. But the blow never came.
The bathroom door opened and then suddenly the pressure on my chest was gone. I sat up and saw Vince standing in the doorway. His mouth was open and he probably looked more scared than I did.
Willis stood up and looked at Vince, seeming nervous for the first time.
“What’s going on?” Vince asked.
I almost had to stifle a laugh. That was all Vince could think of to say? He has never been too good at confrontations. But it didn’t matter. Vince’s mere presence seemed to be enough.
While Willis probably could have taken on both Vince and me in a fight, he didn’t even try. He just pushed past Vince and ran out the door. But then, something told me he had been there only to send us a message anyway, and that message had been delivered.
“Are you okay? What happened?” Vince asked.
“I’m fine, thanks to you,” I said. “He was just waiting for me, I guess. Jumped me before I could lock the door. He was basically threatening me for helping Fred. What are you doing here anyway?” I asked.
Vince looked at the floor and shrugged. I waited for an actual explanation.
When he realized a shrug wasn’t going to be enough, he said, “I was just stopping by to go over our finances.”
I nodded. Vince had been spending a little more time at the office than usual lately. He must have been getting pretty nervous about the Cubs possibly making it all the way this year, and us being able to get to a game. I know I was.
“Well, thanks,” I said. “I hate to think how that might have ended