JUST A COUPLE OF WISE GUYS

By: Kenda

 

*As with many of my S&S stories, Just A Couple Of Wise Guys is written under the assumption that Jack Simon wasn’t killed until A.J. was approximately ten years old, as alluded to in the aired episode, Revolution Number 91/2, and based on a work of fan fiction entitled Journey Into The Past by Brenda A.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

“With your help, boys and girls, our school's Christmas pageant will be the best one we've ever had. It's going to take involvement from each and every one of you in order to make this year’s program a success. I'm counting on all of you to work with me, and with each other. By working together...”

 

Rick Simon sat in the back of his seventh grade classroom listening to the school’s large, buxom music teacher, Mrs. Gordon, give her annual round-up speech for his grade school's Christmas pageant. Mimicking the woman's voice, Rick said in a low tone, "By working together we can produce the best pageant we've ever put on for your parents. You will all play an important part. The choir is just as important as the angels, and the stagehands are just as important as Mary and Joseph. Nobody is more important than anyone else. We will all have an important role in Mission Bay Elementary School’s annual Christmas program."

 

Rick had heard this exact same speech every year since kindergarten. Therefore, he knew it by heart, and had the art of imitating this particular teacher down to a science - much to the amusement of the classmates seated near him.

 

The students in the back of the room became increasingly restless, and several giggled and turned to look at Rick. Mrs. Gordon stopped her oration in mid-sentence.

 

"Richard? Do you have something you'd like to get up in front of this classroom and share with the rest of us?" 

 

“Uh...no, Ma’am.”

 

Mrs. Gordon rested her hands on her broad hips and took several steps toward the young instigator. "Just what's so funny back there, Richard?"

 

"Uh...nothing, Mrs. Gordon. Nothing."

 

"I see. Well, Richard, I'm sure you're busy telling all your friends how you're planning to volunteer to be a wise man for our program this year."

 

"Ma'am?" 

 

"Yes, I always have three of our seventh grade boys act as our wise men each year as you know, children. I think you'll make a perfect wise man, Richard. You're nice and tall. You've got good posture. Those are the two qualities I look for each year when I pick my wise men."

 

As Rick's buddies snickered the flustered boy stammered, "But...but, Mrs. Gordon, I've been a stagehand the last two years. I thought I could be a stagehand this year, too."

 

"No, I don't think so, Richard," the music teacher replied firmly. "I think you'll make a fine wise man."

 

Before Rick could protest any further, the woman put an end to the discussion. "I'll talk to your mother about it at next week's P.T.A. meeting."

 

Rick sighed with resignation as he looked down at his desktop. "Yes, Ma'am."

 

___________________________________________

 

A week later, Cecilia Simon was bustling around her kitchen getting dinner ready. As the boys set the table, Jack leaned against the countertop and told his wife about his day at work.

 

"All right, guys, let's sit down and eat," Cecilia ordered as she set the last steaming dish of food on the table.

 

The family took their places, then dishes were passed and plates were filled. Cecilia helped A.J. put some mashed potatoes on his plate while looking across the table at her husband.

 

"I talked to Mrs. Gordon at the P.T.A. meeting last night, Jack. She tells me that Rick has volunteered to be a wise man for her Christmas program this year."

 

“Good for you, Rick,” Jack smiled at his eldest. “Being a stagehand is getting to be old business, huh? It'll be a pleasure to see you out front for a change."

 

Rick rolled his eyes at his father's words and focused his attention on his plate.

 

"And A.J.'s going to be an angel again this year," Cecilia said.

 

"I don't wanna be an angel again this year! I've been an angel every year since kindergarten. Only girls are angels." 

 

"Now, A.J., that isn't true," Cecilia admonished. "Danny, Billy, and Patrick are going to be angels, too."

 

"Well, I don't wanna be an angel! I wanna be a wiseguy like Rick."

 

Jack laughed at his youngest son’s words.

 

"I don’t wanna be an angel, Dad. I don't wanna be in Mrs. Gordon's dumb old program if I gotta be an angel."

 

"A.J., Mrs. Gordon puts a lot of work into that program,” Cecilia scolded. “You should be proud that she's picked you for such an important role."

 

A.J. pleaded his case to his father. "Please, Dad. Please don't make me be a dumb old angel again. "

 

Jack's eyes twinkled as he recalled how important certain things can be to young boys. Things that mothers just don't seem to understand. The man winked at his blond son.  "Maybe Mom can talk to Mrs. Gordon about giving you another role, Andy."

 

"Jack!" 

 

"Cece, Andy's right. Nobody should have to be an angel three years in a row. Maybe there's another part he could play."

 

A. J. 's face lit up with excitement. "A wiseguy!"

 

Cecilia sighed as she gave into her husband and son. "I won't make any promises, but I'll see what I can do."

 

"Thanks, Mom!"  

 

Rick was sure he now saw a solution to his own problem concerning the Christmas program. "Mom, when you talk to Mrs. Gordon about A.J. not bein' an angel, can you talk to her about me not bein' a wise man?"

 

"Absolutely not."

 

     “But, Mom--”   

 

"No, Rick. You can do your part for Mrs. Gordon's program. Besides, Dad and I haven't seen you out on the stage since you were a shepherd back in the fourth grade. We want to see both our boys in the spotlight this year."

 

Rick smirked as he muttered, "Aw, shucks."

 

"Rick, it'll be great!" A.J. declared. "We can both be wise guys!"

 

Jack laughed at A.J.'s words and excitement, as well as at Rick's long face and disappointment.

 

"Perfect casting, Andy. You and your brother are both a couple of wiseguys. "

 

___________________________________________

 

Later that same evening the Simon brothers could be found in their bedroom.  A.J. was getting ready for bed, while Rick sat at their desk doing his math homework. As A.J. was dawdling over the act of getting his pajamas on, Cecilia stuck her head in the bedroom doorway.

 

"Ten more minutes, A.J., then I want you in bed."

 

Cecilia spied Rick bent over his textbook at an odd angle.

She walked in the room and removed the Condor comic book her twelve- year-old was trying to conceal.

 

"You can come downstairs and finish your homework in

the living room when A.J. goes to bed, Rick. And no TV until

it's done either."

 

"Aw, Mom." 

 

Cecilia turned and waved the rolled up comic book at her son. "If you had done your homework right after supper like I told you to, you'd be able to watch all the TV you wanted. Now you don't have any

choice but to get those papers done. Do you hear me?"

 

The boy sighed. "Yeah."

 

"I'll be back up to say goodnight in a few minutes,

A.J," Cecilia said as she walked out the door.

 

"Okay, Mom."

 

A.J. sat down on the edge of his bed and buttoned his pajama top.

 

"Hey, Rick, won't it be neat with you and me both bein' wise guys in the play?"

 

"A.J., Dad's already told you about a million times that it's wise men, not wise guys."

 

"Oh, yeah, I keep forgettin.’ Well, anyway, won't it be neat?"

 

Rick turned in his chair to face his brother. "No, I don't think it will be so neat."

 

"Why not?"

 

"Look, I guess getting’ excited over a stupid Christmas pageant is okay for a little kid your age, but--"

 

"Hey, I'm not a little kid!"

 

“All right. All right.  I guess it's okay for a kid your age to wanna be in a school program and all, but for a guy my age it's pretty embarrassing."

 

"Why?"

 

"'Cause it just is. It's not cool. All my friends are laughin' at me. Well, all except Carlos, 'cause he got stuck bein' a shepherd."

 

"But you're cool, Rick." 

 

"I was cool. Now that Mrs. Gordon's put me in her dumb old Christmas pageant my reputation will never be the same. I'll be the laughing stock of the seventh grade."

 

A.J. thought about that for a moment. "If those guys laugh at you, Rick, you just tell them that the wise men had a very important job. They brought gifts to the baby Jesus to honor Him, and to show the whole world that He was the true King and Son of God. How can that not be cool?"

 

Rick shook his head in amazement at his little brother. Obviously A.J. had been listening to last week's Sunday school lesson. Listening much better than Rick had been.

 

"It's not that it wasn't cool for the real wise men to do that, I guess. It's just not cool for me to have to be one in a stupid school play."

 

"But, Rick, I want us to be wise men together! I want us both to be in the play."

 

"Don't worry about it, kid. I'll be a stupid wise man. Mrs. Gordon will never let me out of it, and neither will Mom. You heard her at dinner. She won't talk to Mrs. Gordon about it, so I'm stuck bein' in the play whether I wanna be or not."

 

"Oh," A.J. smiled with relief. "Well, I'm sorry it's uncool that you're gonna be a wise guy...wise man. But I'm glad we're both gonna be in the play."

 

"Yeah, sure," Rick replied as he gathered up his schoolbooks and pencil and headed for the door. “Whatever you say.”

 

A.J. picked up a Little Golden Book about baseball off the nightstand. He leafed through the pages, trying to find his place from the previous evening before his mother came up and turned the light off.

 

He heard Rick's, "Goodnight," as the older boy descended the stairway. A.J. called back, "Night, Rick!" as he began to read.

 

___________________________________________

 

The following Saturday was the first Saturday in December. A large assortment of shepherds and wise men, angels, sheep, donkeys, cows, and choir members, minus their costumes, gathered in Mission Bay Elementary School’s gymnasium for the first practice. A number of teachers, as well as a handful of volunteer mothers, were also present to help keep some semblance of order over the mass of children ranging in age from five to fourteen.

 

Mrs. Gordon was busy dividing up her angels and shepherds, while at the same time breaking up a fight between a donkey and the innkeeper. The fighting boys were brothers, and were having a rather loud discussion as to who the biggest jackass in the family was.

While this activity was going on, a student teacher, Miss Kennedy, was trying to assemble the seventy-five children that would make up the choir.

 

Mrs. Gordon rushed over from her own corner of the room to instruct the young teacher.

 

"No, no, no. Sherry and Judy are angels. Girls, go over there with the other angels," the woman ordered as she nudged the two six year olds toward another section of the gym.

 

Looking over the assembled choir members, the woman asked, "Now where are the eighth grade boys? The ones who aren't stagehands are in the choir."

 

"They're outside looking at dirty magazines," an eighth grade girl delighted in revealing.

 

Mrs. Gordon shook her head in exasperation. "Mrs. Dunham! Would you please go outside and find the eighth grade boys. And if they're doing anything they're not supposed to be, I want to know about it immediately."

 

Mrs. Gordon sighed as she took in the mass confusion surrounding her. The first day of practice was always like this. Unoccupied children were running to and fro. Others fidgeted while being fitted for costumes. Several children from the kindergarten class were crying, and the gym buzzed with the sound of shouts, laughter, and animated chatter.

 

As Mrs. Gordon headed back to her group of angels, Mrs. St. John, a long time colleague, walked up beside her. "Does this pageant get more out of hand as each year passes, or are we just getting old?"

 

"We are not getting old, and the pageant isn’t out of hand. Everything was progressing just as it should have until the chickenpox went through the kindergarten last week. I knew right then that was a bad omen. First the eighth grade boys decided that they don't want to sing, then Nancy Duben called and told me if one of her boys was to be a shepherd, then they all have to be shepherds."

 

"Oh, heavens. No one can handle even one of those Duben boys. All four of them as shepherds will be a disaster."

 

"Not in my play it won't be, mind you. I told those boys that they will behave," the formidable Mrs. Gordon said of the toughest boys in school. "Then, to top it off. Cecilia Simon called and told me that Andrew doesn't want to be an angel, he wants to be a wise man like his brother."

 

"But you always use seventh grade boys for your wise men. "

“I realize that. But how could I tell her no? She’s the president of the P.T.A., and volunteers a lot of her time for school events. She and Mr. Simon have also donated quite generously to the school on many different occasions over the years. So, I had no choice but to make Andrew a wise man. That wasn't the worst thing in the world, until Andrew's desire not to be an angel prompted a major rebellion amongst my other boy angels. I now have no boy angels, but an overabundance of shepherds, thanks to Mrs. Simon."

 

As Mrs. Gordon bustled away clicking her tongue in annoyance, Mrs. St. John chuckled. Gladys Gordon's school Christmas program had been run exactly the same way for the past ten years. Mrs. St. John imagined that it didn’t sit too well with the woman to have all that change now. For the past ten Christmas programs, thirty children from the kindergarten through the third grade had been angels. Ten boys from the fourth through eighth grades were always shepherds, and three seventh grade boys were the wise men. An eighth grade girl and boy always portrayed Mary and Joseph, and an eighth grade boy played the innkeeper. Children from all grades filled the remaining parts, and those left with no parts made up the choir or were stagehands.

 

Mrs. St. John’s thoughts were correct. The upcoming Christmas program of 1956 was not sitting well with Gladys Gordon in the slightest. She was missing half the eighth grade boys, who were doing God knows what, she had too many shepherds, no boy angels, and one of her wise men, A.J. Simon, was a good foot and a half shorter than the other two kings.

 

As she stood in the chaotic gymnasium that day looking over her group of angels, Mrs. Gordon sighed with disgust. Always in the past, her thirty little angels were carefully made up of exactly fifteen girls and fifteen boys, all of them blond headed and blue eyed, as Mrs. Gordon pictured angels to be. On the night of the program, in their white robes and gold halos, and with their blond hair glowing white under the spotlights, Mrs. Gordon's little students really did look heavenly. Now this year, thanks to Cecilia Simon, all of Mrs. Gordon's angels were girls. An assortment of brown headed girls, and red headed girls, and not enough blond girls, and girls who were too old to be angels.

 

Well, the teacher thought to herself as she turned her attention to her mismatched group of angels.  I just won't let this bother me. This year's Christmas program is going to be the best one I've ever put on. The best.

 

 

___________________________________________

 

     While the choir was practicing, and the angels were getting sorted, and the ‘animals’ were getting fitted with their costumes, the shepherds and wise men were left to their own devices. Therefore, Rick and Carlos could be found in the Boys’ Room, along with another kid from their class, Tommy Barnes. Tommy was also a wise man. An eighth grade boy by the name of Tony Seronee was present as well. He was portraying Joseph in this year's play.

Tony leaned back against the wall and took a drag from his cigarette, then offered it to the other boys. Tommy shook his head no, but Rick and Carlos each took a puff, then tried hard not to cough in an effort to maintain a cool image in front of the older boy.

 

"Man, this Christmas pageant is really stupid," Tony commented as he took his cigarette back from Carlos.

 

"How come you volunteered to be Joseph if you think it's so stupid?" Tommy asked.

 

Tony smirked at the green-eyed boy who was tall and lanky like Rick. "I didn’t volunteer. Old lady Gordon picked me, just like she did you guys."

 

"Oh, no," Carlos groaned, as the fears he harbored concerning being next year's Joseph came a step closer. Mrs. Gordon always picked a boy with a ruddy complexion and dark hair to play Joseph. He had overheard the teacher say once that she liked a foreign looking Joseph. It made the play more accurate if the boy cast in that role had the darker looks one associated with the men of the Middle East. Or so Mrs. Gordon claimed. Carlos, being the most foreign looking student in the seventh grade, knew now he didn't have a chance come next year. He was sure to be picked to play Joseph.

 

Rick laughed at his friend's distress. "Well, amigo, should I start calling you Jose′?"

 

"It's not funny, Ricky," Carlos said. "I gotta start sayin' a special prayer to the Blessed Virgin. That's the only thing that might save me."

 

Tony shrugged as he lit another cigarette. "It ain't as bad as it could be, I guess. Rhonda Cooper is Mary."

 

The other three boys nodded and smiled, deciding being Joseph wouldn't be half bad if a girl as pretty and popular as Rhonda Cooper was Mary.

 

"Rhonda's stacked, too," Tony said as he held his hands out from his chest to indicate to the other boys the size of Rhonda's bust line. "I'm gonna try to see down her blouse in practice today."

 

The eyes of the three seventh graders lit up.

 

"See there, buddy, being Joseph might not be half bad after all,” Rick told Carlos. “Mrs. Gordon always picks a good lookin' girl to be Mary. I bet next year it will be Joanna Schrader." 

 

"That wouldn't be too bad," Carlos agreed as he thought of the girl he and Rick had deemed the cutest chick in the seventh grade.

 

As the bathroom door swung open, Tony tossed his cigarette into a toilet while the other boys waved their hands in the air in an attempt to fan the smoke away.

 

The boys gave a collective sigh of relief as A.J. appeared.

 

"Oh, here you guys are. What are you doin' in here?"

 

"Nothin', squirt," Tony said. "Do your business, then get lost."

 

Knowing Rick would let no harm come to him, A.J. ignored the older boy's tone of voice.

 

"Mrs. Gordon is lookin' for you, Tony."

 

"Okay, okay," the older boy replied. He didn’t want to linger too long for fear the teacher would come looking for him and smell the smoke in the room. As he headed out the swinging door the eighth grader turned to the other boys and winked. He held his hands out in front of his chest again. "Now's my chance. I'll let you guys know if what Rhonda's got is real, or if she stuffs."

 

The meaning of Tony's comment, and his gesture, was completely lost on young A.J. He looked on with confusion as the other boys laughed and said, "Yeah, Tony, let us know."

 

As the older boys’ laughter died down, A.J. sniffed the

air. "What's that smell?"

 

"Nothin’,” Rick replied. "Now go on, get outta here. Go out by your friends."

 

"Mrs. Gordon sent me to look for you guys, too, Rick. They're ready for the shepherds to rehearse, Carlos, and she wants the wise men out there, too."

 

"All right," Rick sighed as he ushered A.J. toward the door with Tommy and Carlos following.

 

 ___________________________________________

Three hours later, the first rehearsal was over. Two more Saturdays and several time periods during the school day were left to perfect the whole affair.

A.J. and Rick were sent home that day with their costumes, as well as the frankincense and myrrh, while Tommy took the gold. The props Rick and A.J. were given were wooden boxes that had been stained and varnished, and were then decorated with costume jewelry made up of brightly colored stones. Tommy’s box had been spray painted gold and then varnished to give it a brilliant sheen. Mrs. Gordon had mentioned several times to the boys that she had put a lot of time into creating the props, and she was counting on her three wise men to take good care of them. A.J. hung on the teacher's every word and nodded gravely.

“We'll take care of them, Mrs. Gordon. Won't we, Rick?"

 

Rick, whose eyes had been on Rhonda Cooper's bust line, nodded and answered in a distracted tone, "Uh...yeah, sure. Sure."

 

"Now I expect you boys to practice at home this week."

 

"Okay, Mrs. Gordon, we will," A.J. promised.

 

Rick rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, “You gotta be kiddin' me.” 

 

When the children were finally dismissed that day they poured out of the school in a running mass of legs and a babble of voices. Cecilia had lunch ready when her wise men walked in the door at noon. Jack was putting in overtime at the office as he often did on Saturdays, so it was just Cecilia who listened with amusement to A.J.'s enthusiastic narration of the morning’s events.

 

After the boys’ stomachs were full and they had helped their mother clear the table, Rick headed for the back door.

 

"Rick, where are you going?" Cecilia inquired from where she stood at the sink washing dishes."

"I'm gonna see if some of the guys wanna play football."

"Well wait a few minutes, please. I want you boys to try on your costumes for me. I have to see if they need to be altered. I know A.J.'s will, but I need to check yours as well."

 

"Oh, Mom." 

 

A.J. grabbed his brother by the arm and pulled him toward the living room. "Come on, Rick, we gotta practice anyway. We can do that while we wait for Mom."

 

"A. J., I ain't gonna practice." 

 

"But we've got to! Mrs. Gordon said so."

 

"I don't care what she said. I ain't gonna practice." 

 

As A.J. frowned with disappointment Cecilia ordered, "Rick, practice with him for a few minutes."

 

"Mom! I don't wannna prac--"

 

"Richard, it's not going to hurt you to practice with your brother. I promise you'll be outside with your friends in twenty minutes."

 

"Oh, all right," Rick consented as he stomped off behind A.J. toward the living room.

 

A.J. poked his head back in the doorway. "Mom, are you gonna come watch us?"

 

"In a minute, honey," Cecilia promised.

 

As Cecilia washed the dishes she shook her head and smiled while overhearing the sounds of pageant practice coming from the living room.

 

"Rick, you’re walking too fast. Mrs. Gordon said we're supposed to walk slow."

 

"Rick, remember Mrs. Gordon said that you can't carry that box like it's a football. It's a gift for the baby Jesus, so you’re supposed to carry it like you’d carry something real important you’re takin’ to a king."

 

"Hey, Rick, we're supposed to be singin’ ‘We Three Kings’ with the choir. We should practice that, too."

 

Cecilia intervened when she heard Rick bellow, “A.J.!” She’d spent too much time convincing Mrs. Gordon that A.J. was old enough to play a wise man to risk Rick putting that wise man out of commission before the pageant took place.

 

 

  ___________________________________________

 

Two Saturdays later, the Simon boys were on their way home from rehearsal once again. This had been the last practice before the program, which was scheduled for Tuesday night. All the children had been wound up at this final run-through. The younger ones, like A.J., were excited over the upcoming pageant. The older ones, like Rick, were excited over the fact that Christmas vacation started on Wednesday.

 

As Rick and A.J. rounded a corner on their way toward home they saw the four Duben brothers lounging against a street sign. A.J. stopped and stared at the menacing boys ahead of them. Johnny, Jerry, Joey, and Jimmy Duben were the meanest kids in school. They were forever in the principal's office, and had caused more trouble for Mrs. Gordon's Christmas pageant than she'd care to ever remember. She spent most of her time chasing them away from the angels, whom they loved to torment, or trying to keep them from looking up the skirts of the female choir members, or going in search of the various props that they loved to hide on her. And while the teacher couldn't prove it, she was certain the fire that was started in the manger hay one Saturday was a direct result of devilment on the part of one, if not all, of the Duben boys.

 

A.J. swallowed hard as he stared at the four husky red headed boys who were carbon copies of each other in looks, right down to the number of freckles on their round faces. They all had on torn jeans and shirts, and each had an assortment of bruises, cuts and scrapes on their faces. A.J. had heard his mother say more than once when she thought he wasn't listening, "Nancy Duben allows those boys to run wild. Who knows where their father is. Probably passed out in some tavern somewhere. It's such a shame."

 

A.J.'s father would often laugh at the Duben boys' exploits as related to him by his sons, and then say, "If this was the old West they'd be called the Duben Gang, and there would be a stiff price on their heads." Then A.J. would sometimes hear his dad say, "One of those wild Duben boys will come home dead some day, mark my words."

 

A.J. wasn't exactly sure how someone who was dead could come home, but he figured with the Dubens, anything was possible.

 

As A.J. stood frozen in the middle of the sidewalk Rick placed a hand on his brother's back while urging softly, "Come on, A.J."

 

"Rick..." 

 

"Don't show 'em you're afraid. Come on," Rick urged again as he gave his brother a gentle nudge forward.

 

"But, I am afraid," A.J. whispered as he stared wide-eyed at the four boys ahead of him.

 

Johnny was in eighth grade, Jerry in seventh, and the twins, Joey and Jimmy, in fifth. All of them, including the twins, were considerably stockier than Rick, and Johnny was a good head taller than the oldest Simon boy as well. All the Dubens had been held back a grade on at least one occasion; Johnny several times, which in A.J. 's estimation made the oldest Duben boy about twenty by now.

 

"Come on," Rick said as he propelled his brother forward. "I won't let any of 'em hurt ya’."

 

Although A.J. knew that Rick wouldn't let anyone hurt him if his older brother could help it, the blond boy didn't think the odds were in their favor right at the moment.

 

"Where ya’ goin’ in such a hurry, Simon?" Johnny Duben sneered.

 

"None of your business," Rick sneered right back at the boy he knew to be fifteen years old as he held tightly to A.J. 's upper arm.

 

"I bet you babies are goin' home to your mama, aren't you?" Jerry Duben tormented.

 

An indignant A.J. stuck up for his mother. "So what if we are?"

 

Jerry gave A.J. a shove. "Shut your trap, twerp."

 

Rick’s grip on his brother prevented A.J. from falling. "Leave him alone, Jerry."

 

"Make me, Simon." 

 

"I will if you touch him again. "

 

Quick as lightening, Jerry gave A.J. a mighty shove, knocking him loose from Rick's hold. With a cry of both surprise and pain, A.J. landed sprawled on his rear end on the sidewalk.

 

The next few minutes were a free-for-all tangle of arms and legs as Rick went after Jerry with his fists flying. Before he had a chance to inflict any damage on the boy though, the three other Dubens joined the brawl. Rick quickly ended up with his face pressed into cold concrete, all four Duben brothers piled on top of him throwing punches. The only thing that saved Rick from sustaining any serious bodily harm was the fact that the Dubens didn't care where their fists landed. They simply enjoyed hitting for the pure pleasure of it. Therefore, with the way they were monkey piled on top of Rick, half the time they ended up hitting each other.

 

A.J. gallantly tried to pull the four boys off his brother, but the second grader was no match for Johnny Duben, who was on top of the pyramid and was easily able to keep the blond away with shoves hard enough to knock him back to the ground.

 

The fight was over almost as quickly as it had started. The Dubens jumped off Rick one by one. They raced whooping and hollering down the street toward their home.

 

As Rick lay on the sidewalk moaning, A.J. sat sprawled in the grass in a daze, watching the bullies depart. As soon as he got his wind back, the blond boy pushed himself to his feet and ran over to Rick.