It Can Always Get Worse

By Shandy L. Kurth

Have you ever been jumped? Have you ever lay in an alley clinging to consciousness, bleeding to death, knowing you could die where you lay? I have. The streets are a dangerous place; watch over your shoulder while you walk or you may just find out what I'm talking about. Horrors lurk in the shadows, evil prickles the back of your neck, you know someone is watching you, waiting until you've long forgotten that gut feeling... waiting to catch you off guard. Friends can't help you, although they may try. I watch them fall around me and I wonder how we got here. How did we enter this hell?Nowhere is safe in the neighborhood. Clay and his gang, the Locals, can't walk the streets alone these days. Fighting for everything and nothing at all, the Locals struggle on the streets trying to build a safe life around each other. Haker and his followers, another neighborhood gang, have set a vendetta against them, trying to tear down their protection; but the Locals aren't backing down - they're going down swinging. Clay's life will never be the same when a chain of events turns deadly and leaves all of the Locals changed forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shandy L. Kurth
• Release date: Aug 26, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476053523

Shandy L. Kurth

Shandy L. Kurth is a writer of Young Adult fiction. She is a teacher by day and a writer by night. She was born and raised in Kanas and lives and writes there with her husband.

Book preview

IT CAN ALWAYS GET WORSE

Published by Shandy L. Kurth at Smashwords

Copyright © 2010 Shandy L. Kurth

All rights reserved

***

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

***

DEDICATION

For Jo who believed in this story from the beginning.

***

CHAPTER 1

I was left for dead, cut up and bleeding in an alley once. It wasn't one of my fondest memories. I watched from a distance as two guys beat a young kid into the cement floor of a dark alley. I decided that this kid didn't really need a memory like that. I stood sizing them up, calculating my intervention.

He was small, maybe twelve. The two guys that were giving him a licking were much older, maybe older than me. They weren't having a problem keeping control of the kid. He was fighting back, who wouldn't, kicking at them and yelling out into the night, but he didn't have a chance.

I advanced toward them, silently. The kid's cries and gasps hiding the crunch of my tennis shoes on the pavement. They didn't see me as I flipped out a switch with five inches of cold metal that I had swiped from some guy at the bowling alley. I grabbed the jerk closest to me and held the blade to his throat.

That’s enough! I growled. The other guy jerked his head up, looking to see what had happened. Our eyes met, and I watched the realization there. Leave him alone or I’ll cut you to threads!

The guy I was holding was about my age, fifteen or sixteen. The other guy looked a little older, maybe eighteen.

The older guy didn’t stick around to see what was going to happen. He took off, leaving the younger of the two to fight his battle—what a friend. The younger guy stood real still, his breathing quick. I couldn’t tell if it was from beating the kid or fear of the cold steel across his throat.

Come on man, he pleaded, we were just messing around!

Messing around my ass! He’s twelve years old!

I turned him around real quick-like and punched him square in the face. It caught him off guard, and he fell to the ground, blood already pouring from his nose. I gave him a swift kick for good measure before he lit out of there.

The kid was still conscious, but they had worked him over pretty good before I had shown up. He just lay there, breathing real hard. I grabbed his collar and pulled him into a sitting position against the alley wall. His jacket was torn and so were the knees of his jeans. Seeing him there like that made me think of my own little brother. I hoped someone would've done the same thing if it were him getting pummeled, but I doubted it. Most people would have just kept walking. That's just how it went in my neighborhood. I wasn't most people though.

Did they cut you? I asked, looking him over.

He said nothin’ as tears—he was entitled to—ran down his face. I grabbed his chin and turned his head slowly to the side.

Man, they got you pretty good.

There was a knife cut from his ear to his chin that would remind him of this night for life. I sported a couple myself.

What’s your name?

Eric Rice, he answered, still not looking at me.

I sucked in air audibly. He was Ace’s little brother. Ace was a guy I wouldn’t want to tangle with. He was the ring leader of the Spades. We weren’t rivals, but we were far from friends

He ran the back of his hand across his cheek, trying to rid them of tears but all it did was smear the blood.

Well, I better get you home. Can you walk?

I helped him stand, but he leaned mostly on me, with one arm wrapped around his ribs. Blood dripped down the side of his face, drenching his light-blue t-shirt.

Ace lived a couple blocks away and since I didn’t have wheels, we were walking. The streets were dark. There was only an occasional street lamp to light our way. People leaned in the shadows, and cars whizzed past us on the street, no one noticing that I was carrying a half conscious, bleeding kid. No one cared.

Eric went limp in my arms, and I almost dropped him. I grabbed him up getting a good hold again, hoping he had crashed from shock and not from loss of blood, which was all over my white shirt.

The house didn’t look much different from mine. It needed paint, and some of the shingles needed replacing. The grass could use a cut, and there were dark oil stains in the gravel driveway. The yard was surrounded by a chain link fence. It could use some work too. It sagged and drooped in places. The lights were on, and I wondered what time it was as I slowly made my way up the porch steps. I kicked the door as a knock, looking in the front window that led directly into the living room. I could see the TV on inside.

Ace opened the door. He squinted at his brother, his lips pursed as he held the door open, and I carried Eric inside. Ace led me to a small room in the back of the house, and I laid Eric on the bed.

They cut him pretty good, I said, biting my thumb nail as Ace checked out the cut. It felt strange to be in Ace's house, to be this close to him really. I couldn't remember a time when we were really in an enclosed space, ever. I hoped as I stood there, my guard up, that he wouldn't take out his anger on me even though I hadn't had any part in it.

What happened?

I walked up on some guys jumping him. No reason except he was there, I guess.

A flash of pure hatred flickered in his eyes and my adrenaline jumped. He sat beside his brother, examining the gash on the side of his head.

Who? Haker? Shawns? he tossed out a couple gang names.

Um, I don’t know. I never seen 'em before. He was still conscious when I ran 'em off. He passed out on the way over here.

Stupid kid. I’ve told him a thousand times not to run around by himself. Not to mention he was supposed to be home a couple hours ago.

Speaking of, I better get going or AJ’ll hit the roof. Again, I wondered what time it was.

Yeah, I’ll see you around.

I let myself out, relieved that I was away from Ace although he didn’t seem to hold any contempt toward me. I was thinking I probably shouldn’t be out there alone either not to mention how pissed AJ’d be when I got in.

I was still quite a ways from home when I saw head lights bearing down on me. Then, I heard the hum of the engine die. My heart jumped in my chest. The street was a bad place to be alone. The thought caused a shiver to run down my spine. I had grown up there, alone on the streets, and learned to always be aware, always be ready. I groped in my pocket for my switch. Hey Clay! a familiar voice called.

I turned to see Fry hanging out the driver’s window of his old Buick, and my adrenaline dropped a bit. Fry was one of the gang, the Locals, headed by AJ. Fry was a major druggie. I’m not sure why AJ kept him around, but he did. He was a slick talker but not a slick thinker. He was fried at an early age, (obviously where he picked up the nickname) but I liked him as much as the next guy. He kept his mouth shut. Whether he never really thought about serious shit 'cause he was high all the time or he liked to stay out of everyone's business, I wasn't sure.

You scared me half to death, I said walking toward him, even though I was glad to see him and be in the safety of his car. Those guys I had run off earlier were probably still hanging around, and I would bet money they could kick my ass if I hadn't snuck up on them like I did. I was tough but I wasn't stupid.

It was late, and I was tired. My eyes were heavy as I slumped in the seat. The chance to relax made me realize how dang tired I really was. It would’ve taken me a good fifteen minutes to walk home, and I was sure AJ was mad enough already. He worried too much, I thought. No one else we hung with had a babysitter like I did, and they all ended up fine at the end of the night on someone's couch. Sometimes it kind of torqued me, but I knew he was just looking out.

AJ was my older brother; six foot two, dark-haired, and handsome according to the girls’ who followed him around. AJ was like…security to me. He had pretty much been the only person I had ever looked up to. We lived with my father, but he was too much of a drunk to be of any use. If I ever needed anything fatherly, AJ would be the one I would go to. He’d taken care of me and my kid brother since before I could remember, and sometimes I forgot that he was only a few years older than me.

AJ’s probably all worried. It’s four in the morning.

You kidding me? It’s really four in the morning? I said as we rounded the corner onto my street, wondering where the night had disappeared. I had just been out, fooling around. Just the usual.

Yeah, where you been?

Around. I went to the movies and played some pool. Made some good money at it too.

You’re going to get your head busted one of these days for hustling people, he said, glancing at me.

I laughed at the idea of Fry giving advice to anyone.

I had to walk over to Ace’s place. I stopped some guys from killing his kid brother.

Who was it man? They’re dead if Ace gets a hold of them. Fry was serious. Ace wasn't someone to mess with. The cops would need dental records to identify 'em if he got his hands on 'em.

The lights were on when we pulled up to the front of my house. I could see AJ sitting in an armchair staring at the blank TV screen.

Looks like you’re in for it now. Fry grinned knowing AJ all too well.

I gave him a dirty look before I silently pulled myself out of the car. I walked up the drive, wondering if I was going to get a chewing. I took a deep breath then opened the door. AJ didn’t even look up when I walked in. He didn’t change expressions or even seem to notice I was there. But I knew he did. He just didn’t have the energy to fight. I stood in the living room for a second. He finally looked up.

That your blood? he asked, his eyes looked tired, no concern in his voice.

Naw, it ain’t mine.

That seemed to satisfy him, and he got up and went to his room. I knew the fight was gonna come, but I was glad it would wait because I was in no mood to hear the lecture that he was going to lay on me.

I went in my room, threw off my blood covered shirt and fell asleep.

CHAPTER 2

I woke the next morning to someone jerking me out of bed. I was airborne before my eyes were open.

You little punk, he yelled as I hit the wall, my head knocking against it, rattling my brains.

At first, I thought it was AJ, mad about the night before. I was disorientated in the light of the day and from the fog of sleep that was still enveloping my head. But then I figured it out. It was my old man.

Get your hands off him, AJ’s voice commanded, and my dad’s hands let go of me.

I slid down the wall, not quite in control of my body yet.

What’s up with you? AJ yelled at him, standing in the doorway of my room looking more annoyed than angry. I wasn’t fully awake so I could’ve been mistaken.

The little thief has been stealing from me! my old man hollered, out of breath from the struggle, his face red from his night (or life) of drinking.

Stealing what?

What do you think, kid? He’s been swiping my beer.

I didn’t drink it, I spoke up, realizing what the heck was going on.

He says he didn’t steal it, AJ repeated, pulling his work shirt over his head.

No, he said he didn’t drink it. He didn’t say nothin’ about not stealing it.

The old man was breathing hard as he stood over me, and I was afraid he was gonna belt me a good one with the empty beer bottle he had in his hand. I grabbed a hold of the bed and pulled myself up. If there was going to be a fight, I wasn't going to sit on my ass and wait to be bashed.

Did you steal it? AJ asked real calm-like, obviously tired of the fight already, leaning in the doorway with his arms across his chest.

No, I didn’t steal it.

He didn’t steal it, so give the kid a break.

I’ll catch you next time! the old man threatened over his shoulder, pointing a stocky finger at me, still obviously drunk as he stumbled out of the room. He would probably stagger down the hallway and collapse into bed. We wouldn't see him for a good twenty-four hours.

What’s the matter with you? AJ asked, again he didn’t seem angry, just tired. There was absolutely no fire in his voice or his eyes as he buttoned up his shirt. I was about to call the cops last night. Who knew what had happened to you? You could have been lying dead in some alley.

I—

I was up all night and morning, scared to death of the phone ringing, maybe someone found you dead somewhere. I didn’t know if I should hug you or kill you when you got home. Where had you been all night that was so damn important?

Well, I went to a movie, and then shot some pool. On my way home I saw this kid getting jumped so I ran the guys off. Guess who the kid was?

I’m not in the mood to guess, he said, sitting down on the side of my bed and pulling on his boots.

It was Ace’s kid brother.

No kidding? I finally got some kind of rise out of him. Ace's family was not something an intelligent person messed with unless they had some death wish.

No kidding. So I had to walk him home, and he passed out halfway there. He had a pretty good knife cut.

Who was it? he asked.

Ace’s brother.

No, who jumped him?

I have no idea. I’ve never seen them before.

Well, I gotta go to work. His eyes were tired, and I knew it was my fault. He needed to stop worrying so much. "Stay out of trouble. And don’t pull what you pulled last night again or I’ll be the one to jump you. Got me?" he said, poking me in the chest.

Yeah. Sorry man.

Oh, and make sure Mark is at the school by eight. He’s got Saturday school.

He get in a fight?

I don’t know, something like that. Just make sure he gets there. I don’t want him getting suspended.

No problem. That was typical of Mark, my little brother. Mark was the one in the family who liked to start fights. AJ and me just finished them. I never started a fight—on purpose anyway. I liked fights as much as the next person, but I didn't have a reason to just go around knocking heads. I left that to the rift raft that planned on living in the pen the rest of their lives. I was taught to fight at a very young age. You have to know how to fight to live in my neighborhood, but that didn't mean I needed to go around slugging people to prove something. Self-control was a valuable tool.

***

Anybody home? a voice came from the living room.

I jerked up-right in bed, trying to shake the sleep from my head. I must have dozed back off.

In here, I called, pulling myself up, shaking my hair out.

Hey kid, where’s AJ? Blade asked leaning in my doorway.

Blade's real name was Danny. We all called him Blade though because he could do anything with his knife before you even realized he had it out. He was AJ’s best friend. They had known each other since they were young, elementary school so he was someone who had always been around. Where he’s at every other Saturday. Work, I said, walking into the living room with Blade on my heels.

I thought he was switching his hours? He picked up a box of crackers off of the table and started shoveling them into his mouth.

I shook my head. Guess not.

You know, he was worried sick about you last night. I thought it was gonna give him an ulcer or something. Either that or wear a hole in the floor with his pacing.

I know, I said, picking up an empty bowl from the coffee table and dropping it into the kitchen sink. My stomach felt kind of sick thinking about AJ sitting up waiting for me all night. I guess I was kind of a jerk. I should have at least called, but I hadn't even realized how late it had gotten. Time ran away from me.

Well, I gotta be getting to work too. Tell him some guy named Clark is looking for him.

What do you mean looking for him? I asked, pulling my head up from the laundry basket I was digging around in for a clean shirt.

You know what I mean. He wiped his crummy fingers on his jeans.

What did he do? I racked my brain trying to remember AJ saying anything about…anything that could make someone come looking for him, but I wasn't coming up with much. AJ wasn't really one to start shit.

Don’t ask me, he shrugged, waltzing back out the front door.

Yeah, later.

I shook my head at the thought that someone was looking for AJ. They must have been getting desperate for some action. I would suggest they get a lady friend to occupy their time. Brawling with my brother and his one hundred and eighty pounds of solid muscle was not something you casually decided to do on a random morning.

Hey Mark, I called as I walked down the hall to his room. What a pig pen. There were clothes everywhere. Who knew what was clean and what wasn't. Empty soda cans and chip bags littered the surfaces, and Mark lay in his bed beside his book bag and four or five automobile magazines. Mark, get up.

I’m up, he mumbled, his eyes still closed.

You got fifteen minutes to get ready. I knocked loudly on the wall, hopefully jarring him from his dreams before walking back down the hall to look in a mirror. I looked like hell, dark circles hung under my eyes. I should have come in earlier last night. I ran a comb through my hair and called it good.

The school was only a mile away so it only took ten minutes to get there. It was seven-thirty.

Five minutes passed and Mark still wasn’t up, Mark, get up! I hollered, sticking my head back into his room.

Fine, he grumbled, rolling out of bed. What’s for breakfast? he asked, walking past me, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He looked a lot younger still half asleep. I followed him down the hallway, thinking about breakfast

Reviews for It Can Always Get Worse

[iandssmom · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This was a fantastic book. It reminded me of [book:The Outsiders|231804] as I was reading it but it is more updated. The characters were in a bad situation but still loveable and you could see the good in them even in this terrible place. Now this isn't a happily ever after tale but it is very real and you see why it was written the way it was! I loved that in the end everything is explained. At times it was hard to read but I'm so glad I did because it just stays with you and gets under your skin! It really is that good and I highly recommend it! It was a very quick read and I felt like it was just over too quick!