Ms. Harrton wasn’t in her classroom when the bell announced the start of school that day.  So of course everyone was going batshit crazy.  The cliques of children were scattered around the class involved in various mistakes-in-progress.  Remmie was in one corner of the room tossing cards around impressively, leading up to tarot readings for those around him.  There were a few kids in one corner looking at a trashy magazine.  On the other side of the room, in a corner separate from the others, Blitz and Garrett were discussing something.  They were too far away for us to hear, but based on Garrett's animated gesturing, and the red in Blitz’s cheeks it was probably sexual in some nature.

Sitting at his desk oblivious to it all, was Jim, taking apart the classrooms intercom speaker that he had Remmie tear off the wall about ten minutes ago.

Think I can rig one of the cell signal bombs to this? He asked nonchalantly as he fiddled with the insides with a screwdriver and a pair of pliers.

Obviously.

-I respond, bored.  It has plenty of room and you could rig the school's power to it.

Oh shit. Duh. Could rig it so the trigger is whenever they page the room, too.

We want to get real fancy, we can make it strictly come from the nurse or the office.

Then just call the school as Carl, asken’ for Blitz or I...

Stick it to a delay timer...

And we’d be halfway home before the big surprise, HA!  Jim chuckled to himself at the thought, shaking his head.  Lucky them we don't have a need to be nasty.

It’d make a great distraction, we could slip away in the confusion, or even fake our deaths. 

-I try, not really expecting success.

Fuck off.

I chuckled halfheartedly and decided to change the subject. 

What do you think they’re talken' about?

Who?  Blitz and Garrett? Probably Garrett’s night.  ‘Parently he made like four grand.  Or he’s boren' her talken' Shark Tank again.

I would think they’re talking about us.

Us?

I sigh. 

You, obviously.  She keeps looking over here.  I Think they’re planning somethen'.  Embarrass us maybe?  It must be somethen' bad by the look on  their faces.

Or, and stick with me on this, they’re planning something for my fucken’ birthday AGAIN and you’re imagining things. AGAIN.

I snap towards him and shout-

How can you be so naive, Jim?

What we maken’ up words now?

“Fun enough game I s’pose.” Said Remmie, seeming to just materialize, standing over us and shuffling his tarot deck. “Though I don’t think I’d be too good at it.”

Did you say that aloud?

Jim smiled to his friend, placing his tools down. “Done entertainen’ them?”

Are you seriously going to fucken’ ignore this?

Remmie shrugged. “Their fortunes ain’t all that bright. Ain’t no fun to me, but at least it payed for my lunch.” He flashed Jim a devilish grin and fanned out his deck, holding it out towards us. “Care to take ‘em for a spin, Jim? I promise you’ll have a FINE tellin’.”

“Didn’t you tell me the card stuff is bullshit?” Jim asked.

“Oh completely, Jim-bo. Can’t get any real fortunes less it's through bones.”

“Then why aren’t we doen’ it with those?” Jim grinned.

“Tried once.” Remme shrugged, tucking the cards into his back pocket. “They burst into flames.”

They did what now? 

-I asked, jerking my head towards the conversation.

“Is that...bad?” Jim asked, unsure, and slightly unnerved.

Remmie just shrugged again as if saying “Who knows” and just left it at that.

Before Jim could press further, the door flew open with the young Ms. Harrton rushing through it,  with a stack of papers and a skinny, well dressed Arab kid following behind her, very unsure.  He had a very neat haircut and was wearing slacks and a polo and seemed like he very much wanted to disappear as he looked firmly at his shoes.  They were very expensive shoes.

“Well ain’t that something...” Said Remmie, just as confused as the rest of us.

“Why do we keep getting rich kids here?” Garrett asked, walking up behind Jim with Blitz in tow. “Are we getting gentrified?”

“Roaches infest in swarms.” Remmie responded with assumed wisdom.

“Awww, he looks lost.” Blitz giggled.

“Looks like he’s gonna drop dead.” Jim smiled.

Smells like it, too.

“Alright class!” Ms. Harrton said, turning from her desk and gesturing for the new boy to walk up to the front. “This is Mohammed Safi.  Try not to bully him too hard.”

The boy looked up, terrified and surprised.

“Oh, the poor thing is doomed.” Blitz whispered in Jim’s ear.

He just screams extra baggage. 

-I scoff. 

I think it’s best we just stay away from him.

“Miss Shneider, would you please help Mr. Safi get situated for the rest of the day?”

Fuck.

“Sure thing, Ms. H!” Blitz said, sarcastically snapping to attention.

“Great, now we have this to deal with.” Garrett sighed, walking back to his desk.

“Ma’am!” Remmie said, raising his hand. “Jim and I suddenly have to go to the bathroom!”

Ms. Harrton sighed. “Of course you do.  Whatever.”  She waved dismissively. “Homework's on the board.  See you boys tomorrow.”

“Bright and early, ma’am!” Jim said smiling.

Ms. Harrton began staring at Jim’s desk, noticing the intercom sitting in pieces for the first time. “Mr. McAllister...what is that?”

“It’s the intercom speaker ma’am.”

“Why did you tear apart the speaker?”

Jim thought about it for a second before saying, “Just kinda wanted to see what was inside it.”

The class giggled as Ms. Harrton half smiled. “You’re putting it back together tomorrow morning.”

“Whatever you say.” Jim said, following Remmie out of the classroom.

As they walked by the new kid, Remmie patted him on the shoulder. “Welcome to the class, Safi. You're gonna love it.”

“So where will we be goen’?” Jim asked Remmie as the pair walked down the hallway and exited the main building.

“Couple of people I think you should meet.” Remmie said, turning his head towards Jim. “Think y’all get along like rocks to glass houses.”

“I don’t think those usually go together.”

Remmie just shrugged in response.  He lead Jim behind the building, where the two waved at the group of teachers and students smoking, stopping a moment for Remmie to light their math teacher’s cigarette for him.

“What class are they in?” Jim asked as they entered the common area, where kids usually hung out during lunch break.

“Oh they ain’t rightly in a class yet. Thinkin’ they’re tryin’ to get in today though. So I told them they should meet me around here...but where are...”

“Ah fuckin’ A! Thing took my money!” Came a female voice with an Urban English accent from the vending machines.

“Think I found ‘em.” Remmie grinned.

They approached the vending machines where two kids, identical in height and hair color, were standing.  The girl was shaking the machine furiously. She had long blonde hair and wore blue running shorts, worn running shoes and a pink hoodie that said SMACK in white on the back.  Standing next to her, arms crossed, was a boy who was exceptionally bulky for his age.  His hair looked like it was shaved bald at a recent point and was just now growing back in.  He was wearing an Arsenal jersey, black basketball shorts, and sported a pair of weathered running shoes. 

“Told you not to shove your last dollar in there ya stupid slag.” The boy said, laughing at the girl.

“Shut it ya prick. I didn’t ask for your lip.”

“Who you callin' a prick? I don’t have to take that-”

“Warren! Maribelle! It’s been far too long!” Remmie interrupted, waving to the two.

They turned towards the source of the voice and immediately smiled when they saw Remmie.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite moon-cricket!” The boy said, grabbing Remmie into a bro hug. “How you doing, huh? Any new work lately?”

“My well is tragically dry at the moment.  Might I say you look lovely today, Maribelle.”

“That’s what I like about you creoles.” Maribelle smiled, embracing Remmie. “So charming.”

“And proper good liars.” Warren laughed, and got a punch in his shoulder for the trouble ”Ow. Slag.”

“So is this the one you went on about?” Maribelle asked. “The chap you wanted us to meet?”

“He is indeed, Miss Marribelle. Warren, Maribelle, it is my utmost pleasure to introduce you to my best friend and blood brother, James McAllister.”

“Nice to meet the both of you.” Jim smiled.

They are batshit.

I like them.

YOU are batshit.

Says the voice in my head, anyway.

“Don’t you mean ‘top o’ the mornen' to ya?’ ” Warren said in a terrible impression of Jim’s accent.

“I’d be careful, Warren.” Remmie grinned wickedly. “This irishman fits snugly into the bomb makin’ stereotype.”

“He does what now?” Warren asked nervously.

“This.” Jim said, tossing a pencil case at him. “Catch.”

Warren jumped back reflexively as the case fell in front of him, the contents flying everywhere.  Maribelle burst out laughing. “Warren you absolute bell-end!”

Warren smiled kindly, offering his hand to Jim. “Got me good. James was it?”

He took the hand. “Just call me Jim.”

“Pleasure, Jim.” Maribelle said, then turned to Remmie. “So why’d ya want us to meet, eh?”

“What, it ain’t enough to want all my good friends to get along?” Remmie laughed. “Tell ya the truth, I’m lookin' out for ya.  If you’re gonna live in No-Mans-Land’s Ringo district, you need friends.  And Jim here,” Remmie threw his arm around Jim's shoulders. “Knows everyone worth knowin' down here.”

“Come off it, Remmie.” Jim said, pushing his friend's arm off him, embarrassed.

“Well, we’d appreciate the help.” Maribelle said.

“Aye. We’re gonna try ta make a livin' here.” Warren continued.

“Doin’ what?”

“What Remmie didn’t tell you?” Warren asked, feigning insult.

“We want to start a protection racket.” Maribelle said, chin up, proudly.

“What?  That’s impossible.  You can’t protect a shop from someone that’s gonna fuck up a shop in No-Mans-Land.  The gangs are gonna tear you to shreds.  You can’t stop anyone from doing anythen' here.”

“That’s the beauty of them, Jim.” Said Remmie. “They already got a place they lookin' out for, they done a fine job of protecting it, too.  Eight months they say.  I was even hired to finally just kill the shopkeeper, and they done stopped me dead in my tracks.”

Warren laughed at that. “Necro won’t stay dead, will he sis?”

Them?  Sure they look big, but Remmie… well he’s a monster.

-I said, unbelieving.

“How’d they manage that? I’ve seen you take down eight guys flat.”

“Was more like six or seven but that ain’t the point.  Look at their eyes, Jim.”

The both of them had the bluest eyes we’ve ever seen, full of pride, arrogance and...

Flakes of orange...

“Aye, I can see you’re both ‘Shattered’.” Jim whispered.

“So are you, altar boy.” Warren smiled.

“Not catholic.” Jim said, slightly annoyed.

“So you see,” Maribelle smiled, leaning on her brother's shoulder, and ignoring Jim. “We’re more than capable of breaking any of your little neighborhood’s stupid ‘laws’.”

Oh fuck no. Jim, don’t you fucken’ dare.

Jim smiled at the pair. “twas a pleasure meeting the both of you.”

“Pleasure is all ours.” They said in unison. 

Then, out of nowhere, Warren picked up a trashcan and threw it into the vending machine, causing the glass to shatter.  Maribelle walked up to it casually and grabbed a candy bar then starting eating it.

They’re insane. 

-I mumble, staring at them wide eyed.

Jim and Remmie looked at each other and smiled.  Jim walked over to the machine and snagged a bag of chips.  “I’m likin’ you guys more and more.”

My face fell into my hands. I groaned. 

You’re gonna get us killed.