Young Writers Society

It’s best to listen when your conscience comes calling. Sadly, my conscience could only buy my undivided attention by physical means: the two people in my path to Dallas. All things considered, I likely could have shed my "blockers" and beat some better manners into the fiend. Instead I peered at Vinny and Matt who wrestled to overtake the fidgeting brute together, and ceased my obsession to dodge the blockade.

"Get your greasy mitts off!" he squeaked defiantly. Tubby little Matt looked like he was having trouble controlling one thrashing arm, while Vinny nonchalantly corralled his right.

"Be a team player, huh, Kevin?” Vinny chided. “The chips aren't in our favor to begin with."

"Sure, we've been dealt a bad hand, but I bet if we traded in that card," I jerked my head towards Dallas, "we'd end up with a better deck."

At this, his face twisted in fury. Color flooded into his cheeks and he erupted, gushing incoherent babble.

The two tallest Crowley siblings positioned themselves in my line of vision, significantly relinquishing my inward inferno. Maybe that had something to do with the fact that I was now preoccupied with the striking qualities of Pheonix.

Her fierce features were emphasized by the hazy atmosphere. Feathery, orange hair framed her lean face and glided past her shoulders. Pale arms dusted with freckles and muscle-definition were firmly planted onto my shoulder. The two hot coals that were her eyes arrested my aggression and melted my original ploy away.

"What are you doing?" she whispered. "Your childish games could put us all in jeopardy. If you are against one of us, you are against us all. Don't get all self-righteous just because the opportunity arises to pat yourself on the back. Got it?"

She had a reputation for deterring people with that Ghost Rider glower.

I nodded.

Self-righteous!? Everybody seemed to think I was being inconsiderate by trying to do "justice" on Too-Cool-for-School over there. But I wasn't going to bark at her, not with my amiable affections for her in the way. If I did talk back to her, she would respond by biting my head off. I couldn't seem to find my voice anyway. Childish? Ouch.

Sigh. She had a point. My tactic to exploit the group's isolation had failed; regardless of the place, it still made me look like an ass.

"Give it up man," added her little brother Rocky. Although seventeen, he was seventeen months younger than her, and she wasn't about to let him wander off into some danger zone alone, even if he was a brick wall. Being the eldest of four she watched them like a hawk.

"Do I look like I'm still in attack mode? Go gang up on Dallas. Sheesh guys, Matt looks like he's riding a merry-go-round," I brought to the Crowleys' attention.

Averting their gazes, they beheld the scene. There was Matthew Shore jackknifing all over the place, barely hanging onto a custom-fit, faded blue, button-up jacket sleeve. He looked a little green. “Oh.” they both remarked at the same time and released me.

He saw them. A look of relief seeped into Matt's widened eyes. He wilted and plopped rather loudly into the water. He was slightly overweight and sometimes the slightest exertion left him in need of a breather.

As far as Vinny went, he was slim, not as trim as his prisoner, so when Matt suddenly aborted, the still smoldering Dallas virtually wrenched free--only to notice two giants were swiftly approaching.

All the resolve to reach me vanished from his face. His breath came in uneven gulps. He acknowledged that he was at an impasse and flipped me the bird. "You'll pay Longoria. Big time," he uttered, shaking off the last of Vinny's hold.

Hostility crackled in the air like ice creaking in the wind, as his glassy orbs rained daggers at me. That was not good. Outside the arena, back in everyday territory, I had just earned an exclusive place on The Man's list. My sporadic spell had just cost me peace of mind for who knew how long. But like I said, the grudge wouldn't be anywhere near as severe this way. I'd just have to keep a sharp look out. He'd never come at me using shame as means of torture. I was sheepish but being humiliated set off an otherwise dormant bomb within me. So most likely, when a time came in which I might need his helping hand, he'd spit in my face--unless I was underestimating the atom that made up his heart.

Buck was propped up against a mossy tree trunk delighted as ever, but perhaps a smidgen disheartened that the scuffle had ended rather peacefully, not living up to all its ugly potential. Matt strained to take the offered hand of Pheonix. His gray pants did an imitation of a waterfall as he rose sluggishly. We were all standing more or less in a circle, aside from Dallas who had stormed off hastily in the direction of our destination.

I clapped Matt on the back. "See, not so funny when it affects you.”

"You caused it to happen," wheezed Matt.

Pheonix chimed in, "More like not funny in the slightest."

"I thought it was awful cute how you two got along back there," Buck mused as he stretched and yawned.

"I must applaud your social skills," Vinny inserted.

"Nobody asked for your inputs," I shot back.

Rocky snorted teasingly. “Inputs?”

I rubbed at my forehead, suppressing the urge to argue fruitlessly, and espied Dallas’ outrage instead. His custom jacket sleeve had a rip in it. It must've bothered him. Yay for trivial victories! He obviously must've felt cool strutting around in it, casually thrown open to reveal his black T-shirt, because it would be the permanent death of cold if it visited here in Florida, in May.

I shifted the focus. "Let's go."

Still impishly bickering, we resumed our stroll deeper into the bog.