Johnny’s Plan
“I’ve got a plan.”
I sighed—not about there being a plan since, at this point, anything was bound to be better than where we were, trapped with dirt clods hitting all around. No, it wasn’t the plan, per se, that made me sigh, it’s just that it was Johnny’s plan.
Don’t get me wrong, I loved my brother but all too frequently his plans took us from bad to worse; or, more accurately, from home to Juvenile Court. (We were on a first name basis with Jeremy (Mr. Engle) “our” Juvenile Officer due to Johnny’s past plans, the details of which are not important now but, suffice to say, that from all the past community service we pretty much knew every cop in our neighborhood.)
Another series of dirt clods hit the log, bouncing over our heads. One hit the tree behind us with a loud crack.
“Hey!” Johnny yelled. “Quit throwing rocks. No rocks!”
He went up on his knees and quickly fired off three good sized clods, then squatted back down next to me, hiding behind the dirt wall left by the construction crew. He had a good arm and aim. I heard one of the other kids howl and curse.
The construction site was for the new homes being built all around us. This used to just be an open field where we’d chase butterflies for school projects. About 6 months ago the bulldozers came in and the butterflies moved out. Most of the homes were only half built, but a few were done, and families had moved in. Dad said it had something the slowdown in building had to do with the “supply chain”, whatever that meant. For us, it meant an immense playground and the new kids moving in were the enemy.
“Listen,” Johnny said. “We’ll load up with dirt clods and then you’ll take off for that basement over there and I’ll cover you from here.”
Raising up, I looked over the wall and a dirt clod with a rock landed right under my face, spraying me with dirt. I ducked back down.
“No way, Johnny. That basement is at least 50 yards from here. I’ll get clobbered! Why don’t we just run back home? We can round up Jerry, and Sam, maybe Frank and come back tomorrow and take these guys on.”
A rock came arching down over the wall and landed just past us. They were lofting the rocks, getting smarter or maybe closer.
“We can’t retreat.” Johnny said. “We gotta hold our ground and return fire. If we leave, they win!”
“Yeah, but win what? Who cares? It’s not like we can come back anytime after dark and TP their house or something?”
It was always a thing of pride with Johnny, he never backed down from a fight, win, lose or draw. He always said that once you started something you had to finish it, even if it meant two black eyes and a busted nose. Something about the principle of the thing. Me, I really didn’t care so much. Oh, there was the one time when a big kid tried to take my Philadelphia Eagles lunch box at school and I grabbed it back and clobbered him over the head, which wasn’t that smart since he was bigger, and he took it from me and clobbered me over the head. We ended up at the principal’s office, but I got detention and he didn’t because I started it they said, which was a lie, but those are the breaks was what Mom said. “Sometimes, those are just the breaks.”
“Come on out and fight like a man!” the other kids taunted. I sneaked a look. They were out in the open running at us and throwing rocks!
“Quit throwing rocks!” Johnny yelled, then quickly stood, firing off four baseball size clay clods at our approaching enemy. He hit two of them and they cried out. One small kid took one right in the face.
“Drew blood with that one.” Johnny said, smiling.
I stood and threw the clods I had. I don’t have Johnny’s pitching arm, so I didn’t hit anyone. The other kids stopped and circled around the one who got hit in the face.
“Had enough yet you losers?” Johnny yelled, standing and waving his arms. “Bunch of wussies! Go back home to your mommies!”
One big kid, must have been the leader, turned and started walking towards us, picking up every dirt clod or rock he could find and throwing it hard, mostly at Johnny but one or two at me too. Johnny kept grinning and firing back, striking the kid in the arm and stomach.
“Now,” Johnny yelled. “Start the plan. Move out, I’ll cover you. We’ve got them on the run! Follow the plan!”
I started to run over to that hollowed out concrete basement, but then stopped. I looked over at the “enemy.” They didn’t look any different than us. They looked all worried over that little kid that got hit in the face. Probably worried over what his mother would say, I bet.
“Run!” Johnny yelled! “We’ve got them now!” He fired off another round of dirt clods. The other kids, there were 4 of them, the one no more than 6 years old, dove down, taking cover. The big kid turned and stated walking towards Johnny again, ignoring me.
“Hey!” I shouted. “Cease fire!”
The big kid stopped, surprised, I think. Johnny threw another clod but missed him this time.
“Stop it, Johnny!” I implored. “Just stop. I’ve had enough of this playing war. I just want to go home, get some supper and watch TV.”
I heard the 6-year-old kid whimpering. I think that clod he took in the face really hurt.
“Shut up.” said one of the other kids to him.
“Come on, guys.” I turned on my best charm. “Let’s call it even and quit hurting each other. You can have all the territory on that side of the road, and we’ll take this side and it will be all even steven. Ok? Then we can all shake and go home.”
“No, no!” screamed Johnny. “Don’t listen to him. We must fight to the death or the last man standing!”
“No, Johnny.” I replied, depressedly. “I’m tired of fighting. These kids live here now. Their parents brought them, they didn’t have a choice and even if they didn’t have your permission to move in, like Mom says “Sometimes those are just the breaks”.
“You’re just a little chicken.” He said in disgust.
“So, what.” I said, turning to the big kid who was now only about 15 yards away. “Truce?’
The big kid smiled, reached in his pocket, pulled out another baseball sized rock and fired it at me. I ducked and heard Jimmy howl. I saw him let loose a rock with his fast ball and catch the big kid right on the jaw, sending him to his knees, bleeding red blood.
“Fine, then.” I muttered, grabbing as many rocks as I could. “To the death then.”
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