Free The Old Neighborhood by Bill Hillmann Page B

collided in mid-air, but I had more inertia and toppled him sideways, snagging the ball with both hands before I landed. I then took it out to the side. Angel trailed me. I stopped, then drove straight at him. He stood his ground. I dug my shoulder into his solar plexus, and he stumbled. I bounced back and passed to Mario. Suddenly, Angel cut in front of the pass and stole the ball.
    He dribbled back to take the ball out and reset the play, and I followed him. He cut right quickly and surged past me. I pursued as he drove in and went for a lay-up. I swooped in, leapt up, and blocked the shot from behind before I landed full-force onto his back. We tumbled and crashed into my garage with a thunderous boom. Angel spun under me and with his back against the garage and pushed me hard in my face and chest.
    A bubbling rage ignited in my shoulders, and I stood up and pushed Angel as he got to his feet. Then, I punched him in the cheek. Mario jumped between us, but Ryan shoved him out of the way.
    â€œNaw, let ’em fight,” Ryan sneered.
    Angel and I squared-up. His face was all tied up in a knot, and he rushed me without warning. He flung quick fists that smacked me in the head and face; they felt like speeding little stones. I swung wild and missed, and he peppered me as I stumbled sideways. I reached out and grabbed his shirt, and he kneed me in the sternum. All my wind jettisoned from my mouth and nostrils. I collapsed to my knees on the concrete, awestruck at how fast he was, and how he’d delivered all those blows without hesitation or even thinking about it. I gripped my chest, and he wacked me with a hard punch on the side of my head.
    â€œAre ya done?” he asked.
    I was about to say ‘ yeah’ when Lil Pat stormed out of the gangway. He plucked me up off the ground by my collar and shoved Angel away from me. He bent down and looked me in the eyes. His beard and mustache were scruffy and dirty. Fried chicken was all over his breath.
    â€œJoey, don’t you let that little spick whoop you,” Lil Pat said and clouted me across the cheek. “Now get in there God damn it!” He shoved me towards Angel. I closed my eyes, squeezed my fists, and started swinging haymakers.
    I stormed forward. My hard, looping punches landed and drove Angel into the wooden plank fence across the alley. Angel smashed against it hard. Then he bent over at the waist and covered his head. I lumped him up nasty. He crumpled and curled into a ball at my feet. These little whining sounds poured out of him. Suddenly, it struck me: this poor kid just came out here trying to make some new friends, and now look at him. Look at me. Lil Pat walked up and grabbed me by the shoulder.
    â€œAtta boy, Joey. Don’t ever let nobody whoop you in dis alley,” he said. Then, he patted me on the back and walked me away from Angel, who laid there curled-up and whimpering.
    Lil Pat grabbed the basketball from the ground where it had rolled to a stop and shot. Angel stood, stumbled, and ran towards his house.
    â€œWell, you don’t gotta worry about him no more,” Lil Pat laughed.
    I looked over at Hyacinth who was watching Angel with her hand over her open mouth. She scowled at me and shook her head. Then, she huffed off towards her house, and the other girls followed. A blue rust bucket pulled in to the mouth of the alley at Hermitage, and we all flinched at its bright, rectangular headlights. Lil Pat walked over and got in, and it eased slowly through our court.
    Most of the kids left after that. I didn’t feel like playing anymore and sat against my garage. A headache set in. After a while, it was just Ryan and I. He sat down next to me with the ball under his bent legs.
    â€œWhat was that all about, man?” he asked.
    â€œI don’t know,” I replied.
    â€œHe’s an alright kid,” Ryan said, shrugging.
    â€œYeah.” I looked down the empty alley where he’d run. “He