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Show Car Baseball Butch and Fenn Stories 54 Then we hear the call. It's a tall kid named Chambers, and he's calling from the corner of Tabish's alley- He wants to talk to Parley- Parley pushes himself up off the fence, lazily, and takes those long strides out over the street, into the field which is no man's land, to the mouth of the alley. "They don't got nobody." Cling grunts. But I can see a number of shirts behind Chambers. Eight, nine, ten. Parley walks right up to all of them, straight up, and talks to Chambers. From here I can see his hands in his back pockets. Then I see him point back at us and draw a line with his hand between the two groups. "What's going on?" Fenn says, peering in the general dir- ^ectiron~o~f~the field. Tenn does things in the general direction without his glasses; that's why he's really no threat in Cup or Wall. "Nothing yet, except that big rock sailing right at your head," Butch says. "Is it started? Are they really gonna have it?" -I- stand up, placing my hand over the bulging rocks in my pocket. I don't want any of the other gang to see them and consider me dangerous, or even vaguely hostile. I stand on one leg hoping I can be interpreted-from their distance-as being simply some dumb guy who came over to watch. I know if there weren't six of us, there would be no fight; we should never have come. |
