The Story of a Little Bad Boy

Saturday evening Marco and I are gonna hang out. We always say "hang out", so that parents would have no idea what we're actually going to do. I know from experience that when I say this, mom never asks any questions. She only always wants to know if I've eaten, if I want to take something to bite with me, and when I'll be back. She scowles a little when Marco picks me up, so I'm always happier when it's me who walks over to his house. His house is only a few blocks away. I know Marco is ashamed for the way it looks like, so he's always happier when he walks over. He lives in a house that's even more little than ours and don't have a garden. Many of the windows don't have any glass in them because Marco plays with a basket ball inside because he don't have a garden to play in. The reason Marco and I became friends was because both of us had just one parent. His mom died when he was just a baby, and he was raised by his father. He always calles his daddy father. He doesn't like him. He says all his dad ever does is drink. He says he spends a lot of money on booze and then comes home late and drunk and beats Marco. He even told me there were people from child services once to take him away, but that his father made it so they couldn't. Marco would rather have gone, but he says that his house'd looked better then. If the child services came now, they would take him away for sure. He says that that's why he plays with his ball inside the house. He gets beaten by his father when he breaks something, but Marco says he gets beaten even if he don't break anything. I wouldn't like to live with Marco's father.

I take out my skateboard and skate over to Marco's. I think my skateboard makes me look real cool. I think even Marco envies me, though he never shows it. It's summer and the evening's hot, but it will be cold in a few hours. That's why I have a sweatshirt in my backpack. Marco meets me outside his house and asks me what the hell I have in my backpack. I'm glad my mom didn't hear him because she would go mad over his language. He sees my snack and trades it with me for an old rusty knife he's found in a dump. The knife is real cool. I think I'm gonna use it today.

Just as we pass a street lamp it flickers to life. We joke about it for a while and I call him Marco "Magic". And it is magic in a way, if you know what I mean. I could pass any number of lamps on the street and none would flicker. Stuff like that happens only to Marco, or to me when I'm with him.

"So what you wanna do today, Marv?" he asks me. I like it that he calls me Marv. It makes me look tough.

"I dunno. Hang out, I guess."

Marco sniggers at me because I never come up with any ideas. I don't know about cool stuff the way Marco does. Mom don't let me out all the time as Marco's father lets him. Marco says his father don't even know he's out most of the time.

"I know about a cat. Mrs Peabody lets it sleep in the garden overnight, but the cat always gets out. It goes to rummage through the dustbins across the road. There's a good chance it's there tonight," he says.

"Okay, fine by me," I say and put on my sweatshirt. It's getting cold.

When we come to Mrs Peabody's garden we cross the road and go over to the dustbins. The cat's there alright. It's big and black and has yellowish eyes. It don't mew at all. I don't think it's scared. That's because it don't know what were gonna do.

Marco tiptoes to the cat, calling at it softly by its name. It's called Fred.

"Hey Freddy! Over here Freddy! Don't worry, we don't wanna hurt you!"

I think the cat is stupid. Any cat should know when there's danger coming.

It's big and fat and furry. It lets Marco hold it and even starts purring. He holds it like this for a minute or two and then nods at me. I know that now it has to be quick. I inconspicuously take out a cord from my backpack, hold its paws together, and before it has any idea whats happening, i bind its legs together. Its all about practice. Marco lets me do this bit now, even though before it could only be him, and all I did was hold the animal. I always got scratched something alwful. But now Ive learned to be quick.

The cat starts screeching, but before the neighbors get wind of anything, I have it gagged. I can feel it tremble in Marco's hands. Good.

We carry the cat over to the dump beyond the last houses. It's pretty scary, with the trees rustling and moving in the wind and making black silhouettes against the sky. But I'm not scared and neither is Marco. We're old enough not to believe in ghosts. Mom always says it's people we should be afraid of, not ghosts, and in a way I think she's right. When we're at the dump, Marco uses a thin wire on the padlock, the way his father once taught him.

We get inside and carry the cat a few paces on, so that if anything happens, we can hide easier. Marco tells me to take out my knife and flashlight. When I do, my hand don't tremble like it should. No, I'm not scared. Mike "Marv" Raleigh. The knife is sharp, so what I'm about to do gets easier. Marco takes the flashlight and holds it at the cat. I take the cat's hind paw, the left one, and cut it off. I think that even through the gag, the cat's screeching can be heard back at our house. Marco has some trouble keeping hold of it. The cat faints or something when the paw is off. I notice that my sweatshirt is bloody. Damn, mom's gonna know. I decide to leave it at the dump and say I tore it up while playing with Marco. That'll stop her asking questions. I'm still pretty scratched, but I don't really care. It will hurt when mom disinfects it, but it will be worth the while.

We go back. We stop in front of Marco's house. The lights are out, so maybe his father's already asleep and won't be mad at Marco. Or maybe he's not even in.

We say goodbye and Marco disappears inside the house. I walk on toward ours. I unlock the door. Mom is in the living room watching TV, so she doesn't even hear me. Good, at least i'll avoid the disinfectant a little bit longer. I go upstairs to my room and open my secret drawer. All the stuff I've ever gotten from Marco is there. I take out a pouch mom bought me a year ago. I throw out the contents from the window and put the paw in. I know from experience that when the paw's in for a long time, it starts stinking, so Marco and I have to go get another one, so that mom don't know.

I take a shower and brush my teeth. Mommy is really mad when I don't brush my teeth before I go to sleep. She comes in the room when I'm already in bed, acting like I'm studying. She says I'm her little good student boy and turns off the light. I start to imagine what the kids at school'll think when they see my new pouch. I bet that after that, Marco and I will be the most popular boys in our class. Only the teacher mustn't know. But I'm not worried about that because she's never found out yet. And even if she did, Marco's father wouldn't care and my mom wouldn't believe. I wonder if it's the safe feeling that keeps me from being scared. Or if I've been doing this long enough to take the game to the next level. But I think Marco's a bit scared. Not of what we do, but of what happens if anyone finds out. I don't really think that'll happen. We're always so careful that no-one's seen us do anything yet. And I think I'm lucky. Ever since daddy died, it was like all the bad has already happened to me, and now only good has a chance with me.

I stop thinking about that and start picturing tomorrow in my head. It's gonna be great. Marco and I will be the coolest guys in our class. The coolest guys ever. I draw the blanket over my head and fall asleep.