She and the rest of the homeless women disappeared, leaving the empty bags behind. I stuffed them in the trash and walked out of the alleyway. Two guys—they looked about twenty—were coming up from one of the river oases. As they passed me, I caught a whiff of alcohol. It reminded me of Ed, which was enough to make me hurry on by.
“You. Girl.”
I speeded up. Their footsteps grew closer, louder. They were following me.
“What’s your hurry, babe?” The voice was right behind me.
Nearly wrenching my arm from its socket, one of them spun me around, slurring, “I said… what’s your hurry?” Shoving up my sleeve, he uncovered the XVI. “She’s legal, Punch. Score one for the home team.” A smile spread across his face.
His friend sidled up next to me. The liquor smell so strong I nearly vomited.
“Let go.” I struggled to free my arm, but he wasn’t about to release me.
“You said ‘Let’s go’? I’m with you, babe.” He homed in on an opening between two buildings. “A little alley-cat love for us and our little sex-teen.”
Pressing his mouth onto mine, he rammed his tongue between my lips and his boozy slobber drenched my chin. As soon as he came up for air, his friend, Punch, yanked my head around and tried the same. He was so intoxicated, he missed my mouth completely, allowing me just enough time to scream.
“Nuh-uh, babe.” The first guy slapped his hand across my mouth. “Don’t want a whole crowd. Punch and me’s more than enough.”
I tried biting him, but his grip was too firm. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a hire transport. Struggling to get free, I kicked Punch, connecting with his shin.
“Ouch!” He had a puzzled look on his face. “Why’d you do that? We’re gonna give you what you want. Right, Gordo?”
“Of course, idiot. Let’s get back there before anyone else comes by.”
Between the two of them, they practically lifted me off the ground and ducked between the buildings. I kicked and writhed, but I couldn’t manage to connect with either of them again.
“Over here.” Gordo, his hand still firmly across my mouth, dragged me into a recessed area not visible from the street. He took his hand off my mouth long enough to jam his glove into it. Holding my arms behind me, he said, “Get her pants down.”
I kicked at Punch’s groin, missing. This could not be happening. I had to get away.
“She’s too wild.” Punch backed off, shaking his head.
“I gotta do it all?” Gordo flung me to the ground. “You hold her arms.”
Punch eyed me suspiciously but did as he was told.
I tried spitting out the woolen mass, but it was too far in. It was all I could do not to throw up. Choking on my own vomit was not the way I wanted to die.
Gordo straddled me, fumbling with the button on my jeans. “You just calm down, babe. We’re nice guys. This is gonna be fun. It’s what all you girls want.” He couldn’t get my all-weathers undone. “Dammit!” He pulled a switchblade out of his pocket.
My heart stopped. My eyes widened in terror.
“What? This?” Gordo flicked the knife open, eyeing it lovingly. “Easy access, sweetheart. Easy access.” He slit the waistband of my pants. The blade scratched my skin, and warm blood trickled across my belly. “Oops.” He grabbed a handful of snow and rubbed it on the wound. “Sorry.”
“Skivs! You cut her!” Punch loosened his grip on my arms. “We’ll get in trouble, sure enough.” I jerked my arm free at last, snatched the wad out of my mouth, and screamed again. Punch quickly clapped both his hands over my mouth. I bit down. Hard.
What happened next was so fast, I couldn’t tell exactly what was coming from where.
A war whoop erupted behind Gordo, and two women jumped him. I made out Joan’s face as she leaped across me, slamming into Punch.
She bashed his head against the wall, yelling, “Stop! Stop! Stop!” over and over.
Somehow, Punch managed to push her off. Struggling to his feet, he dashed out of the alley, leaving his friend behind. Gordo was thrashing about under the weight of Svette and another woman. I scurried back into the snow away from them. About the time he swiped the air with his switchblade, I yelled, “He’s got a knife!”
Svette cracked his arm on her leg, and the knife skidded down the alley. She yanked him to his feet, kicked him between the legs, twirled him around, and delivered a final boot to his ass.
He stumbled toward the street, supporting himself on the building. “Punch! Punch! Wait up! That bitch broke my arm.”
“You okay?” Svette pulled me to my feet and inspected the bloody cut on my abdomen.
“I’m… fine.” I was struggling to catch my breath. “They… this…” I held out my wrist. “I couldn’t get away.” I slumped against the wall. That’s when I noticed Joan, sitting on the ground, her fists clenched. I slid down next to her. “Thank you.”
She jerked her head around. Her eyes burning. “I wanted to kill him. Kill. Him.”
I knew just how she felt.
“You can’t stay here,” Svette said. “Cops. They’ll show up. Can you walk?”
Even with knees like jelly, and a tremendous need to throw up, I managed to push my way back up the wall. “Yeah, I can walk.”
Svette and the others disappeared around the back of the building. Stumbling to the sidewalk, I looked around to make sure Gordo and Punch were really gone. My all-weathers kept slipping down. Hands shaking, I wove my scarf through the belt loops, tying a bulky knot at the waist, and took off at a run toward the transit stop. I think I could’ve run all the way home.
XXXVII
Thankfully, when I got home, Dee was in the kitchen and didn’t see me come in. The cut on my stomach had stopped bleeding by then. I spread goldenseal ointment on the knife wound. It wasn’t so deep that I’d need stitches, but I figured it would leave a scar. Either way, it was something I’d never forget.
By the time I’d cleaned up and changed my clothes, Dee was in the living room watching a show.
I sat down next to her. “What’s on?” I asked, struggling to keep my voice light.
“More about the Isles.” She glanced over at me. “You hungry?”
I shook my head. “Not really.” My stomach was still doing flip-flops.
“Did something happen to you?” Dee curled her leg under her and swiveled around. “You look… I dunno, different?”
“Why would you think anything happened?” I gave her a quick sideways glance and then turned my attention to the FAV, which she immediately switched off.
“Nina, in eight days I’ll be twelve. Pres are almost teens. You can tell me anything.”
Dee was only four years away from potentially experiencing what had just happened to me. I didn’t want to tell her anything about this. How was I ever going to keep her safe? I thought back to what my mother had always told me: safety comes from knowing what you’re up against. From being prepared.
“Come on,” she prodded. “Something’s bothering you. I know it.”
“Two guys, well… they came up to me. They thought I was… you know… a sex-teen. I… I escaped, but just barely.”
“No! Are you okay? Did you call the cops?” She tossed the remote down and scooted next to me. “What can I do?”
“No, I did not call the cops,” I said. It’s not like they would do anything if I did. “And I’m fine.”
“Fine? How can you say that?”
“I am fine, they didn’t rape me. Some people saw them and helped me. I got away.” I wasn’t about to show her the cut from the switchblade or tell her any more details.
“The police—”
“Would do absolutely nothing,” I said. “They’d take one look at my XVI and say I wanted it.”