Alan, the Champion — Chapter 11 — The Park
On his usual walk through the neighborhood, Alan runs into the two of them again.
Before he was King, he was cannon fodder, a convict, a killer. At thirteen, he ran grown men.
About two weeks later I was making my rounds of the neighborhood.
Checking the action. Seeing if the spots were bringing in money, if everybody was in their corner, if the work was coming out the way it should. Things had been quiet for two weeks, and quiet is rare on the Hill.
That's when I passed the park.
"Park" is a figure of speech. It's an abandoned lot with two rusted-out pieces of playground, one of them missing half its slide. I even had a plan to fix it up — a clean park makes mothers like you, and a mother who likes you won't let her son talk to the cops.
And there, in the middle of the lot, were the two pests of my life.
Fighting. Each other.
The Kid from the first week and the green hair from the second.
I had time. It had nothing to do with me. I went to lean on a wall to kill some time.
In the end I killed time and even learned something.
Watching those two fight was interesting in a way that's hard to explain. It was like one filled the other one's holes.
The Kid was in his sharp style. Precise, economical, not one wasted strike. The green hair was loose, laughing, running his mouth the whole time.
— You're not gonna beat me. I'm the one who runs this neighborhood.
Those kids really believed some things. It was funny to watch.