Lolly sat on the curb a few houses down from the Shepards, she wasn’t a fast runner nor did she have enough stamina to continue running. She picked at three ends of her braids nervously- Jack said she wasn’t supposed to be around here, but her brother never followed his own rules anyways. she took out her notebook, the pages were are colored in pastels, and started writing another note.
Tim grabs his jacket, dark, tilts his head absently away from the light, instinct, palms the switch at his side. Dallas watches him. Says nothin. Watches with narrowed eyes as Tim flits around the house, checkin Curly, murmurin to Angie. Then he slips out the door, silent. Dallas follows.
Tim's waitin for him. There's a cigarette burnin down between his lips, somethin cheap n acrid. He drawls on it, passes it to Dallas without thinkin, n he takes it, the smoke sweet n sickenin on his empty stomach. He hands it back. There's nothin to be said. But that won't stop him from tryin.
'Tim. Are you sure- I mean. Doncha think this is kinda-' Tim rounds on him quick as an alley cat, teeth bared.
'What? You grow some morals between you bein at my side last week n now?' Dallas recoils, just an imperceptible flinch in his shoulders, the clench in his fists.
'No. That's not- that's not what I'm sayin- But Tim. Man. She's just a kid-'
'You tryin to tell me that if it was Pony. Shit. If it was Johnny you wouldn't do the same? Fuck. I know you, Winston. You tryin to tell me you wouldn't do worse?' Dallas' jaw works open, closed, open again. 'Wasn't it you last night pacin round my fuckin yard lookin to stick your switch into somethin? Or was I mistaken.'
The cigarettes burned to nothin, just ash, n along with it, Dallas' resolve. Cause he was right. If he had been in Tim's place? He would have crushed that boys throat. No hesitation. N it wouldn't have mattered if it was for retaliation or revenge or just to hit back n hit back harder. He would have.
Tim nods once to himself like he can tell he's won this argument. He flicks the cig into the dirt n slips down the stairs n into the street. He pauses only once, half hidden in the darkness of street. Dallas watches, illuminated under the dyin porch light.
'Dal? Take care of Curly n Angie while I'm gone.' N then he's nothin but a shadow.
