Welcome to the Pack

After an unsuccessful mugging, Rat Pack tries to recruit a new member. Follow-up to Mugging.
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"You kids really don't take a hint," the boy said. He scowled up at Emily and Adam from where he crouched against the alley wall, pants scrunched up between his legs. The Rat Pack urchins had caught him in the midst of relieving himself. From the stink wafting up from the newcomer, Emily could tell he wasn't having a good time of it. "I told you to leave me alone."
"I think maybe we got off on the wrong foot." Emily forced a smile but kept one eye on the pistol draped over the squatting boy's bare knee. He'd put the gun to her head earlier that day after Rat Pack jumped him a few alleys over. The gun, coupled with the beating he'd pounded into Emily and her friends, had her wondering if maybe there were other ways to approach this newcomer.
"You attacked me." The boy's lip curled-Emily couldn't tell if it was a smirk or a snarl. He jerked a thumb at Adam. "How's your eye feeling?"
Emily's friend winced and pressed a ginger finger to his black eye. The other kids hung back in a loose semicircle around the alley. Most of them bore similar marks from the botched mugging and had no desire to get near the boy again. Even Adam, who usually had Emily's back in everything, needed to be dragged over to confront the stranger once more. He lurked at her side while she stared down the squatting boy, hands on her hips, wishing the rest of her friends would at least pretend to look menacing.
"Maybe we had some of that coming," she admitted. "But you can't just come waltzing around our town. I don't know where you come from, but we have rules here."
"There's rules where I come from. And I'll bet there's rules here, too. You just don't make any of them." The boy regarded her with a cold contempt that made Emily want to rush him, gun or no gun. She'd seen that look before. The offworld merchants and their soldier escorts who sometimes drove through town stared at her like that when she asked for food. Even when they tossed her half a ration bar, they gave her that look.
The look that reminded Emily just how worthless she and her friends really were. Just colonial trash from Mamore.
He thinks he's better than me. The smile dropped from her face. Better than all of us.
"I was trying to be nice to you," she growled. Beside her, Adam let out a small groan. He was probably itching to run as fast as he could in the other direction. "Someone needs to teach you some manners."
"You and your friends already tried, remember?"
"Well, maybe I'll just tell the police chief and his squad that there's some offworld kid with a gun running around our alleys. We'll see how cocky you are after they work you over in the cells a bit."
That got a reaction. Emily saw the in the boy's eyes, a hunted, animal look she knew all too well. The thought of the police scared him. In an instant he had the gun up and trained on her. "Last chance. Leave me alone."
Emily's gut froze, her mouth running dry. Adam yelped and grabbed her shoulder, as if to drag her back down the alley and away from the danger. She wanted to run. But if she couldn't face down another kid with a gun, how would her friends ever trust her to stick up for them the next time the chief of police and his constables got bored and came looking to bother them?
From where he sat against the wall, the boy grimaced. The pistol stayed up, but he ducked his head as something wet splashed down between his legs. An all-too familiar smell drifted past Emily's nostrils.
"You don't have any food," she said quickly. "I know what the water here does to you if you don't have the right nutrients."
"Well I guess you're going to give me yours," the boy hissed. "Since you won't go the hell away."
Emily carefully reached into her pocket and pulled out a ration bar-the last one she had left. "I could give this to you and we could leave."
"Then do it," the boy snapped. His eyes darted back and forth behind the pistol’s gunsight.
“Just give it to him,” Adam whispered. “Don’t wind him up like this.”
But a thought occurred to Emily. She remembered the dogs back in her old village, the nasty feral kind you found rummaging around in garbage bins. They’d been hungry and dangerous, just like this one. She dangled the ration bar out in front of her.
“You can have this one. But what about the next one? And the one after that? We know how to get more, and you can help us get them easier.”
The boy stared at the ration bar. How long since he’d last eaten? “What do you mean?”
“Help us steal one of the crates the last convoy offloaded. They’ll feed us for a week. You can even take a double portion. You know, to show we’re sorry for jumping you.” The kids behind her perked up. They’d never tried swiping a whole crate before.
“A quarter,” the boy said. “Of the whole crate. I’m getting out of here after this. I’ll need the food.”
“Fine, leave if you want. Or maybe stick with us, help us grab more thing. You’ll see. It’s easier with more of us.” Emily smiled and dropped the ration bar into the dust at her feet.
Just as she’d hoped, the boy lunged for the fallen bar. He nearly tripped over his lowered pants and Emily stepped back as he scrabbled in the dirt.
It’d been a long time since she’d done something so petty. But for once, she was the one looking down at someone. And she’d wiped that superior look off his face. The boy rose, hastily tugging up his pants as a strange flush brightened his grimy cheeks. He fixed a furious gaze on Emily that made her want to back up and run just as much as the gun had. Instead she just folded her arms and stood her ground. She wasn’t about to give ground that easily, not after she’d finally roped him into her plans.
After another moment’s glowering, the boy tore the ration’s wrapper open with his teeth and greedily devoured it. He was lean from hunger, but well-muscled, almost like one of the real soldiers who came through town every so often. No wonder he’d beaten them so easily.
“Welcome to the pack, stray,” Emily quipped. Adam stepped up beside her and raised a tentative hand.
“So, uh, I’m Adam. You have a name?”
The boy regarded him. “Simon,” he said after a moment.”
“Nah,” Emily cut in. She’d need to hammer home who was in charge here. “I like Stray better.”
“I don’t,” the boy formerly called Simon snapped back.
Unfortunately, it turned out Stray liked that name quite a lot.
Category:The Weekly