Hit Squad Read Free

whole school.
    Now Joey’s face looked like it had been pushed into a meat grinder. And he had broken bones. Poor Joey. It made Mickey mad just to think of it.
    Joey was still on Mickey’s mind a couple of days later as he shouldered his way along the crowded hallway. He pushed through the cell phones and Walkmans, and out into the yellow October sunshine. He planned to enjoy his lunch under the trees. The grass was littered with horse chestnuts. He kicked absently at spiky green shells and opened up his lunch bag. He was still thinking of Joey Washington, unable to get the picture out of his head of Joey lying broken on the washroom floor.
    He started to take a bite out of his cheese-and-tomato sandwich and then remembered it was Friday, the day of the secret meeting. How could he have forgotten? He pushed the sandwich back into the bag and hurried across the grass to the band room in the school basement.
    The meeting was just starting. There was one girl and a couple of the guys from the football team.
    â€œGlad you could make it, Michael,” said the girl. “I’m Birgit Neilsen. Find yourself a seat and I’ll explain why I invited you all to come.”
    Michael. There it was again. The name. And coming from this classy Birgit girl it sounded to Mickey like music. She sat on an oak desk, leaning back on her hands. Her slim, designer jean-clad legs were crossed. Long blonde hair tied back in a no-nonsense ponytail. White shirt under a light blue cashmere sweater. Up-market. White Thorlo socks. Two-hundred-dollar Reeboks. No make-up that Mickey could see. She didn’t need it.
    And he knew her. Knew that face from way back, from what? Two or three years ago? That was the first time he ever saw her, a blonde kid in a car. He had never forgotten that face.
    Now he knew her name: Birgit Neilsen.
    It had been a night in late spring or early summer. He was about twelve, maybe thirteen. The blonde girl was riding in an overcrowded Mercedes 500 SL convertible with a bunch of other kids. The top was down and she sat up front, squashed in next to the driver. The driver was a fresh-faced senior who had probably just got his driver’s license. The group was obviously from Grandview. They were slumming around Creekside. They had ended up in a dark alley behind the Safeway on Dawson Street where the Cougars were busy breaking into the back of the store for cigarettes. The Mercedes’ high beams caught them in the act like escapees in a searchlight beam.
    Hulk had the wrecking bar. Mickey told him what to do, quietly in his ear so itwouldn’t sound like an order. Hulk took his wrecking bar over to the throbbing Mercedes. Without breaking stride, he blinded its right eye with a well-aimed backhand swipe. Hulk didn’t have a lot going for him between the ears, but he was a man of action, reacting like a caveman surprised by a roaring mastodon.
    Hulk was about to do the same to the car’s left eye but was stopped by the driver, Freshface, who leaped out of the car with a yell and stood between Hulk and the car headlight, his fists ready. Hulk hadn’t expected anyone to challenge him. Hulk was way over six feet, weighed 180 pounds and had the wrecking bar. Freshface would be slaughtered. But Hulk’s hesitation cost him the rest of the battle because the cute blonde kid—she couldn’t have been more than twelve or thirteen—stepped out of the car and stood between Hulk and Freshface.
    Mickey could see she was scared. She said to Hulk, a quiver in her voice, “Go away and leave us alone.”
    Hulk just stood there with his mouthhanging open, puzzled. He was like King Kong the first time he ever saw the girl.
    While Hulk was gaping, the girl grabbed Freshface and dragged him back into the car. The other four kids in the car were terrified. They just sat there saying nothing, their faces all shadows and fear.
    Mickey had been standing back, behind Hulk. The rest of the gang,