I was embarassed, I was soaking wet, but above all, I was angry. The nerve of that girl not to excuse herself! It was my fault that I ran into her, but I couldn't shake my anger, for whatever reason. Maybe it was the rain.
When I returned to the school, Miss Hemingway was not in bright spirits. I handed her the books, and right away she began chiding me.
"I can't believe this, Margaret. The pages in these books are soaked and dirty! And just look at that loaf of bread! It's sopping! The groceries are all wet, and you tracked water all over my beautiful wood floor." She sighed. "As much as I would rather not discipline you, Margaret, I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to mop this hallway and clean up your mess. You will not receive dinner tonight. I know that you cannot afford to replace these damaged books, so your work and your dinner will have to be your penance."
When I finally finished mopping, I collapsed onto my bed, hungry and sore. I was angry at the entire day, but above all, I was angry at that girl from the grocery. How I wanted to get back at her. For what, I have no idea to this day. But I wanted revenge for something.
I crossed the room and looked out the window. There she was, still standing under the awning of the grocery. A boy who looked to be in his late teens or even early twenties was walking toward her. He's late, I thought. The girl didn't look much older than 14 - she was small, and the clothes that she was wearing swallowed her whole. They were talking conspicuously...and for some reason, I decided that I had to find out what about. Revenge didn't happen out of the blue, anyway. I had to make it happen, one way or another.
Silently, I crept down the stairs and slipped out of the school. I stood on the stoop for a moment, waiting for my chance to trail them without being noticed. Finally, my chance came, and I followed the girl and the boy all the way into a part of the city that I didn't recognize. Before I could figure out where we were, the two had disappeared into a bar. Cautiously, I followed them inside, careful not to attract too much attention to myself.
They sat at a small table for two close to the back of the bar and ordered drinks. I sat at a table very close to theirs, with my back facing them.
"This should be a real big win," I heard the girl say.
"Yeah," the boy agreed. "These dice've never failed me."
Loaded dice, huh? I thought. I knew enough about gambling from my father's talk to know what those were.
"C'mon, Marconi. We'd better get goin' so ya don't get drunk again. I, for one, have had enough bar fightin' to last me a month," she said.
"Fine, McCain. Let's get out of here."
They stood and exited the restaurant, half-empty glasses sitting on the table. I waited a few minutes, and then left to follow them. They were going to gamble with loaded dice, and I meant to expose them. Little did I know how much trouble it would get me into.
Silently, I followed Marconi and McCain to a warehouse a few blocks away from the bar. I was surprised to see how many people, young and old, were there, gambling their lives away.
I went inside and sat against a wall that was several feet away from where McCain and Marconi were playing craps. For a long while, I sat and watched as one person after another fell victim to the loaded dice. Finally, I decided that it was time.
I made my way to the closest gambler involved in the game. I tapped him on the shoulder. "Do you have a moment?"
"Sh'yeah. Whaddo you want?" He glared at me and I was almost intimidated, but it was too late. I leaned over and whispered in his ear, "Those two - McCain and Marconi - they're playing with loaded dice."
And then, he did it: "WHAT THE HELL?!" He completely exposed me.
Both of them looked up from their game. McCain glared daggers at me. She was beyond angry - I could tell already. I also realized that I had made a big mistake.
Before I could react, Marconi had me by the back of the neck. "Where did you come from, huh?"
I didn't answer as McCain came up to me. She was eye-level with my neck when she spoke. "You'll be sorry about that, kid."
Before she could do anything, Marconi had let go of me, for several guys from the game had jumped him. McCain gave me one more glare and joined the fight, trying to help her friend. Soon, the fight was out of hand. It was like an all-out war. People from all over the warehouse were beating the life out of each other. I was appalled and enthralled at the same time.
Somewhere in the middle of it all, McCain managed to get back in my face. She grabbed my sleeve and slugged me as hard as she could. I winced in pain and tried to fight back with one eye closed. She only laughed at me. I fought back tears of rage and humiliation and tried to get away from her, but she wouldn't let me go.
Shrill whistles broke through all the yelling. McCain cursed, still gripping my sleeve. "The bulls," she muttered.
Before any of us could get out, the police had surrounded the building. The whole place quieted as one officer asked, "All right. Who started this whole racket?!"
All faces turned toward McCain, Marconi, and me. "Those three!" someone shouted, pointing toward us.
McCain started to protest loudly. I stood there in utter disbelief.
"All right, you three. Come on," an officer said as he and two others forcibly escorted each of us toward the police carriage.
ch.4