Free The Eleventh Plague by Jeff Hirsch Page B

he was drunk. The American national anthem. What were they singing that for?
    “What so proudly we hail —”
    “Leave me alone!” someone shouted.
    The singing stopped and the group turned as one body to a mass of shadows that was swirling at the edge of the park. “Oh no,” Jackson said from behind me.
    Derrick barked with laughter. “Here comes the show, ladies and gentlemen!”
    As the group turned more into the light, I could make out a kid standing in the center of a circulating mob of five or six others, all of whom were jutting in and out at him like crows after a scattering ofseed. The kid in the center was thrashing hard and had already put two kids on the ground, one clutching his knee to his chest, the other cradling his jaw. A third boy got up his courage and went in, only to get a kick between his legs that put him down howling. “Nice one!” Derrick shouted.
    “Stop it!” Marcus hollered as he rushed toward the scene. “Stop this right now! Jennifer!”
    Jennifer?
    Marcus grabbed the arm of the kid in the middle to pull him out of the melee. To my surprise, it wasn’t a boy at all, but a black-haired girl of about sixteen, dressed in dirty jeans and a loose blue-and-red flannel shirt. As she stumbled closer to the firelight, her tan skin glowed like bronze. Marcus pulled her back just as she was going after one of the boys who was stupid enough to have gotten up off the ground.
    “What have I told you?” Marcus yelled as he pulled her away. “What have I told you about fighting?”
    The girl didn’t argue with him, and instead took the time to kick one of the remaining boys firmly in the calf.
    The group of adults broke up as Marcus came charging through with her in tow. Some of them went to pull their wounded sons off the ground and others gathered in a tight knot around Caleb Henry, sternly watching the proceedings and whispering among themselves.
    As Marcus and the girl came closer, I got a better look at her. She had broad shoulders for a girl, inky black hair, and dark, almond-shaped eyes.
    Chinese,
I thought, gripping the stock of Grandpa’s rifle. They were all supposed to be west of the Rockies.
What is she doing here? With them?
    “You could have walked away,” Marcus said. “And let them call me a murderer and a spy? Let them call me a Chink?”
    “They’re just words.”
    “They’re just words to you!” she screamed, yanking her arm out of Marcus’s grasp and stalking away. “I didn’t start any damn war!” I tensed up as she came toward me.
    “Jenny!” Marcus called. “We’ll say something. I’ll talk to their parents!”
    “Forget it. Just forget it!” Jenny stomped toward the wagon, her face screwed up in rage.
    “Hey, Jenny, how’s it goin’?”
    “Shut up, Derrick!” she said, then whipped her head my way. “And what the hell are
you
looking at?!” she snapped as she shot past me.
    Jenny tore across the park and into the Greens’ house and returned several moments later with a big bag slung over her shoulder.
    “Jenny!” Marcus barked. “Don’t you just walk away! Jennifer Marie Green!”
    She whirled around to face him. “It’s Tan! My name is Jenny Tan!”
    Jenny ran up the road, disappearing into the darkness. It was quiet then, like the aftermath of a storm. Most of the other parents had drifted off, injured sons in tow, leaving Caleb Henry and his grim circle.
    “Beset on all sides,” Caleb intoned, looking from the Greens to me. His blue eyes reflected the twisting fire. “Even from within.”
    Marcus was about to say something back, but Violet appeared at his shoulder and he swallowed whatever it was. Caleb grinned wolfishly, satisfied, and drifted out of the group, his followers trailing behind him like smoke.
    Marcus stood in the middle of the road, his shoulders slumped, his hand clasped on the back of his neck. Violet rested her hand on his arm. He looked up wearily and nodded.
    Jackson was sitting against the wagon. His knees were