He felt cured the moment it was in his body. Carbatrol was the medication he was on before the quarantine, the third medication he had tried and the only one that suppressed his seizures consistently. There was no way the pill had dissolved at all in his stomach, but the effect on his psyche was immediate. He felt unstoppable. Will ran into the fray. He was ready to have some fun.
Ahead, he saw Gates and a Skater both going for the same box of rum. Will expected a bloody struggle between the two of them, but when the Skater saw it was Gates, he backed away from the box with his hands in the air, smiling. Gates gave him a thank-you nod, and scooped up the box.
Will ran, past the new delicacies all over the ground, past the fights and the celebrations, and kept on going, in a circle, all around the quad. It felt so good to run. He felt whole again, on equal ground with everyone else. His body wasn’t going to hold him back anymore. He wanted to take himself to the limit, go full blast until his legs gave out.
Will ran until all the goodies had been squirreled away by the sidelines, he never once tried to pick anything up. It was his victory lap for finally making one right decision and teaming up with the Saints. He met up with his new gang by the southwest corner of the quad. Gates stood before them, looking up at the sky, his head tilted to the side like a desk globe.
“We gave you what you asked for. Let the prisoner go,” the man on the roof said.
“Prisoner? Don’t you mean, your baby boy?” Gates said.
“Stop these games,” the man above snapped. “We’ve held up our end.”
“And I’ll hold up mine. I won’t kill him. This week.”
“Where is he?”
“He’s comfortable.”
“We want to see him.”
“No,” Gates said plainly. It was a conversation stopper. The man clenched his fists and stared down.
“No one has to die,” the man finally said. “We only want to take care of you. We want the same thing.”
“Perfect,” Gates said, his voice vicious and smooth in the same breath. “Then this should work out fine. You get us the same next week, and I’ll let you see him.”
Kids laughed through mouthfuls of Pop-Tarts and sugared cereal. The laughter spread and grew. They poured soda in each other’s gullets while they gave the parents the finger. They threw crumpled beer cans up at the roofline. They were wild animals, depraved bastards, ungrateful brats, and they were loving every second of it.
“Let’s hear it for the Saints!” a Geek screamed.
Saints! Saints! Saints! The cheers kept coming.
The peal of the crowd made goose bumps rise up all over Will’s body. They roared for Gates. Like he was a pop star or a famous actor. Will looked to Gates, expecting him to take hold of the moment and make a speech. But Gates was unmoved. He wasn’t smiling, he didn’t seem proud, or caught up in the rush of the moment whatsoever. The cocky satisfaction with which he’d made his demands must have been all show for the crowd because now he looked depressed.
“It worked, man!” Will said to Gates, trying to get a little happiness out of him.
“Yup,” Gates said. His demeanor didn’t change.
“The market is going to get crazy. Hey, we should take requests for stuff you should ask for. That’ll keep everybody on our side, then we won’t have to worry so much about other gangs trying to take Sam,” Will said, his mind lit up with possibility. “We’ll be the most popular kids in school.”
“You handle it,” Gates said.
“What do you mean? You’re not coming?”
“Don’t feel like it,” Gates said. He put his hands in his pockets and slogged out of the quad without another word.
20
THE SLUTS’ TRADING POST WAS A MADHOUSE. They had a line out the door, thanks to Violent’s quick thinking during the drop. The Sluts only went for clothes rather than spreading themselves thin picking up anything and everything they saw. But just collecting clothes was no small task. It was apparent how seriously the parents had taken Gates’s threats by how literally they’d interpreted his ransom list. The parents had actually raided closets, nearly every one in Pale Ridge by the look of it. Old, moth-eaten clothes lay intermingled with new clothes that still had security tags and the prices on them. While other gangs wasted manpower lugging big ticket items like charcoal grills, the Sluts moved swiftly and left the quad early, each one carrying garment piles up to their noses.
Their classroom in the market looked like a Macy’s after an earthquake, but if anybody wanted a new wardrobe, they’d have to come to the Sluts. Sure, there were tons of new goodies in McKinley, but what good was having a bunch of toys at home when you were still walking around looking like crap? A new, clean outfit, on the other hand, not only made you feel good, it made people see you like they’d never seen you before.
Waist-high piles of underwear stood next to equally high piles of jackets, next to piles of pants, of dresses and skirts and socks and so on throughout the center of the classroom. Two Sluts were assigned to each pile to monitor shoplifting, while bartering tables ran the perimeter of the room, where a customer would take their clothes for payment. Violent and two other girls worked a tight door, allowing no more than twenty kids in at a time. The resulting line that gathered in the hall outside drummed up substantial word-of-mouth advertising, and by the time Lucy asked someone what time it was, she realized three hours had passed and business wasn’t slowing down.
Sophia set a bottle of water down on the table in front of Lucy. Sophia had been working the floor, making sure that every girl dealing with customers had what she needed to do her best work, like a snack or a pen and paper. She even doled out the occasional massage.
“How are you doing?” Sophia said, when Lucy’s most recent customer, a Freak with a binder ring in his nose, walked away with a pair of black leather pants and matching jacket draped over his shoulder. He’d paid with a five hundred count bulk box of condoms, and Lucy stashed it behind her chair, where a ridiculous pile of goods was heaped up. Lucy opened the bottle of water and took a long, patient drink.
“I’m good,” she finally said, sucking in air and putting the bottle down, half empty.
“You look exhausted,” Sophia said. “I’m going to bring Lips in to help you.”
Lucy cringed at the mention of Lips. They hadn’t spoken much since Lips had given her respect for knocking her ass on the floor the last day of Naked Week. She’d dyed Lucy’s hair red, but even then, they didn’t have much to say to one another. As much as Naked Week was just a test, the animosity she felt between herself and Lips was real. Now, even though they were both officially gang mates, that old feeling was hard to shake when she was around Lips.
“Don’t bother,” Lucy said to Sophia. “I’ve got this table covered fine.”
“Not your call,” Sophia said. “Violent’s orders. She wants to up the number of customers she lets in at a time. It’s two Sluts per table now to handle the overflow.”
Sophia waved Lips over. Lips shoved her way past kids perusing clothes and pulled up a chair to sit next to Lucy behind the table.
“Make some room, Virgin,” Lips said, frowning at Lucy.
“You’ve got enough,” Lucy said. “Ugly.”
“Ooookay,” Sophia said, her eyes going wide and clapping her hands. “You two have a blast. If you fight, try to keep it away from the customers.”
“Whatever,” both Lucy and Lips said at the same time.
As Sophia walked off, Lips jammed her seat in beside Lucy, forcing her to scoot over. Lucy let out a long breath to keep herself calm. Getting into it with Lips wasn’t worth it. She didn’t need an enemy in her new gang. She told herself she could rise above it.