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    Westley D.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Tuct Side - 12. Chapter 9

Content Warning: Mild Violence / Homophobic Language

Wednesday, August 15th, 2012

“We need to start with the school. If we’re going to spread some goodness around town, we at least need to look the part,” Adyson Stell, junior and second-in-command of the service-learning club, spoke as she paced the half-circle the other students made, her brown hair swaying back and forth.

Mrs. Ada Kanumba, advanced World History teacher and chief of the club, nodded in approval as she listened in from her desk in the corner. “I like the sound of that. Let’s start with the school first. Throw some ideas out. What ways can we… enrich our school.”

“Pizza on Fridays,” Jerry Rutherford, the black-haired sophomore and resident class clown sitting next to West, piped up jokingly.

That got his ten or so peers laughing. The basketball captain blew out a breath at the irony, chuckling as he playfully elbowed him. “If Justin were here, man.”

“I know, right?”

“That sounds tasty, Mr. Rutherford,” Mrs. Kanumba said as the hysterics died down, “but by ‘enrich’, I mean further develop the quality of our school.”

The club members tossed out idea after idea, and it wasn’t until the others exhausted their thoughts that West put in a word of his own.

“Let’s decorate,” he shrugged.

“Like?” the teacher encouraged.

“Hang up motivational posters. Catchy signs for recycling. Paint the walls with space. We can spread some goodness, but let’s have some fun while we do it, yeah?”

And that was what happened for the next half an hour. Mrs. Kanumba got out the markers, color pencils, and posters, and the club got to work. Fifteen minutes before the end of the meeting, West’s phone buzzed. Pausing on his work, he quickly took it out, unlocked it, and read the notification.

*

AMBER Alert

Tuct Side, ID AMBER Alert: LIC/NYC-TSS (ID)

2012 Black Dodge Caravan

*

West felt a lurch in his stomach. It wasn’t often that he paid any mind to AMBER alerts. They occurred so infrequently and never made any noise around town, but since he and Kaspar had signed up for volunteering at a group home for children, it sent a new level of stress to see these kinds of messages.

“You got it, too?” Jerry peaked at West’s phone over his shoulder, holding his own device.

“Yeah. Hope they find the kid.”

Jerry tapped away at his phone for a bit, then started giggling. The blond turned to him in question.

“And I was right,” the jokester grinned a smug smile. “Two months later, another alert. Kim owes me fifty.”

”What do you mean?”

Jerry’s smile broadened as he leaned close to West, showing the contents of his phone. “Well, my lady friend thinks I’m a crazy conspiracy theorist, but I can’t help but think that we, as in Tuct Side, get an AMBER alert only every two months. Starting from last year. See, look.”

He scrolled upward, revealing a list of saved text alerts. All of them were AMBER alerts, the most recent dating back to June 15th. There was another one two months before it, just as Jerry claimed, on April 16th.

February 15th.

December 17th.

October 13th.

“What the fuck?” West whispered, staring at the phone in growing shock and apprehension.

Jerry nodded, suddenly giddy. “I know, dude. It’s freaky. I think there’s a stalker kiddie diddler out there somewhere. As if this town isn’t crazy enough.”

The new group home being built on the western side, the strange men with the diamond symbol on their jackets, and the unknown figure that may or may not be Javier Rabellino came to mind. However, no matter how much West tried to fit the pieces together in his head, it felt like there was still a whole lot missing.


Those thoughts stuck with him for a while. Even after the club ended for today, he was too deep in his head to stick around and mingle. He had football practice next, but he doubted running across the field and being tackled by two hundred plus-sized dudes was going to bring him out of his reverie. As he headed down the school steps towards his car, where he kept his gear, he heard shouting emanating from the side of the building.

“-know what your fuckin’ askin’, ya little shit!? Huh!?”

He knew that voice the instant he heard it.

“Woah, d-dude! I didn’t-… I-I didn’t-”

What followed and cut off the desperate pleading was a deep smack, flesh connecting sharply with flesh. West was on the move, preparing himself to stop a fight, or rather, from the sounds of it, a physical assault. When he finally made it, he spotted three figures. Only one of them was who he thought it was. With a red sweater bunched up in his calloused fists was Neil, his cold eyes putting the fear of God into a brunette freshman. Close by was his friend, the big-boned boy named “Enzo.”

“Shut the fuck up, puta!” Enzo stood beside Neil to bellow in the younger guy’s face. “Rich snobs tryin’ to grub our shit!”

“I-I’m sorry! I-”

The freshman was a second away from pissing his pants. West chose that moment to step in.

“Yo! What’s going on?”

All attention went to him, but the blond kept his sights on the lightning-eyed noirette.

“Get lost, asshole!” Enzo swiped at the air. “It’s none of your business!”

West ignored him and addressed Neil. “Hey, man. Let him go.”

“Piss off, Flower Boy!” he snarled.

“Not until you let him go. Whatever he did, I’m sure it didn’t warrant this.”

It was silent for a beat, and West braced for a lunge, but was surprised to see his Wildwood adversary drop the freshman. Although, instead of lunging, he stomped toward the basketball captain, eyes locked the entire time. West’s breath caught in his throat when Neil got up in his space, noses a few centimeters from touching. The former, having to angle his head up slightly, forced himself not to move back as his rival sneered.

It was a near-perfect replication of the Monday morning, and the same feeling stirred within.

“You fuckin’ trippin’ right now!? Mr. Goody two fuckin’ shoes policing the whole school now!?”

West squared his shoulders and glared right back into the storm. He was by no means a fighter, but he wouldn’t be seen as a pushover. “I don’t know how you rolled back in Wildwood, but here? Sorry, man, but I can’t allow it.”

At that, the muscular noirette took a step back and crossed his arms, grinning mockingly at the stern attitude. “So, you wanna take the little shit’s place, pendejo? Square up, then.”

West immediately shook his head. “I don’t wanna fight you, dude-”

“He said square up, faggot!” Enzo yelled impatiently.

West pursed his lips, thinking about what to do next. The obvious choice in his mind was to back down and attempt to make peace, but he knew it would be him getting beat on instead. Football practice was nearing its start, and his buddies were bound to wonder where their teammate was. He wasn’t exactly one of the star players, but his presence was needed.

“Wait!” the freshman, who the others practically forgot was still there, squeaked. “It’s okay, West. I-I just wanted hit from…”

He shakily pointed down at Neil’s feet. West looked to spot a small, used cigarette. “I’ll just… Sorry.” And he was off, tail tucked between his legs.

Enzo scoffed in disgust. “Pussy.”

West bent over to pick up the cancer stick, confusing the two ex-Wildwood adversaries.

“The fuck you doin’?” Neil growled.

The blond held the cigarette in his palm, gazing down at it before giving the lightning-eyed boy a look of disapproval. “What’s the point, man?”

Neil blinked, stunned out of his brewing anger. “What?”

“This?” he lifted his hand, but it wasn’t the object he spoke about. “You being angry all the time? What’s going on with you?”

“You-” Enzo went to butt in, but stopped when his friend raised a hand.

West tensed as Neil’s body turned to stone, not moving an inch as he stared coldly at the blond before him.“I believe,“ he started, his voice low and calm, “that’s none of your fuckin’ business, pendejo. Stick your nose in someone else’s asshole, yeah?”

“You can’t be this angry without a reason. If you need to talk, I’m-”

It was so quick, West almost didn't catch it. Neil’s arms flashed out and pelted him in the chest, and what probably looked like a light shove nearly sent the blond on his ass. Luckily, his basketball skills kicked in and broke his fall with one hand reaching back, feeling the hard ground scrape and cut into the skin of his palm.

“I said keep out of my fuckin’ business, you piece of shit!” Neil shouted, his rage spilling out. “You,” he pointed trembling, accusing finger at the boy below him, “people like you think your shit smells like roses. Think that your assholes are all clean, prime, and proper when, really, you’re all the nastiest cunts of ‘em all. I’ve met people like you, and I know your hiding something, Flower Boy. A drug problem? Like to get your knuckles scraped up? Like to get a bit too touchy with girls? What is it?”

West slowly picked himself up, bracing for another push just in case. “Never said I was perfect.”

Neil’s laugh was harsh, a jovial sound void of humor. “Oh, I know that, but keep those eyes on what you shouldn’t be lookin’ at and I just might find out those flaws, you feel me?”

West swallowed the lump in his throat. He wasn’t about to cry, but he did feel a twinge of guilt rise up. Was he being too pushy? Inconsiderate?

“Yeah…” he decided to relent. “I get you, man.”

He didn’t know Neil’s situation. It must be bad, judging by the bruises he saw that one day during summer break, but he wasn’t about to intrude.

“Bueno,” an irritated but complacent smirk curled upon the noirette's lips. “Vuelve esos bonitos ojos a otra parte.”

Behind him, Enzo flipped him off.

West watched cautiously as the two strode away, their forms getting smaller as they walked down the school parking lot.

“Y-You okay?”

West spun around to find the freshman rounding the corner of the building, scanning the sophomore head to toe for injuries. His face was contrite, most likely for running away, but West wasn’t bothered with that. It was the whole point for stepping in anyway.

“Oh, hey, yeah. You didn’t leave?”

The younger teen shrugged sadly. “Felt like a jerk for running.”

“Nah,” West waved dismissively. “Don’t feel bad. I can handle them.”

“You sure? They looked like they were gonna clobber you.”

The blond chuckled lightly, the stress from the situation easing out of him. “Yeah, but let’s just say there are perks to being the town’s Flower Boy.”


“That absolute cunt!” Kaspar roared, banging his fists against the headrest of the passenger’s seat in his cousin’s car. “Wenn ich meine verdammten Hände auf ihn bekomme-”

“Kas, please! Calm down!” West, in the driver’s seat, grabbed his hand, but the redhead would not be placated.

It was after football practice and the sun was beginning to lower. West thought it would have been a good idea to inform them of what went down, but began to realize how ill-advised that was.

“No! No! I will not calm down! That fucking shit-for-brains has the nerve to threaten you and besmirch our grounds with his… filth!?”

Justin, leaning against the driver’s door next to Finn, rolled a joint in between his fingers as he grimaced. “I can’t believe you just used the word ‘besmirched’.”

“I stopped it before anything happened,” West focused on his raging relative.

“He laid into one of our own! That cannot go unpunished, man! If we don’t do something, they’ll turn our school into a circus!”

“You’re very territorial,” mentioned Finn.

Kaspar huffed indignantly. “If I am, then so be it. You know, West, I always make fun of you for going after this like it’s some kind of Scooby-doo mystery, but maybe there’s some truth to it.”

West stilled. The other three gave him astonished looks.

“You believe the rumors?”

Kaspar sighed. “I wouldn’t go that far, but I refuse to believe that Patriot would choose to shack up with Wildwood so suddenly. And so… eagerly, too.”

“So, you’re saying…” West egged him on, feeling that spark of excitement flare.

The redhead rolled his eyes as he got in the car. “I’ll help as much as I can. Get some info. Take some pictures. I just wanna know why this is happening. I tried to ignore it, but… I just have a bad feeling about all this.”

The blond hugged him from the side. He knew it took a lot for Kaspar to agree to this. Maybe telling him of today’s events wasn’t too much of a bad idea after all. “Thanks, bro!”

He turned to Justin and Finn for confirmation.

Justin took the joint from between his lips. “Hey, I’ve been on board since the beginning. Plus, it’ll get me out of the house.”

Finn nodded in agreement. “Same.”

“I’m not letting a bunch of lazy, backwater faultfinders control me,” Kaspar grumbled as rested back in his seat.

West mentally jumped for joy. His whole crew was now onboard.

“Well, in that case, anybody noticed our bi-monthly AMBER alert?”

Copyright © 2021 Westley D.; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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Their questions about a bi-monthly AMBER alert while that is odd the implication is they are bogus what would be the motivation to put out false AMBER alerts?

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