Lolly ran up to the Shepard’s mailbox, her was in two braids with lavender ribbons at the ends. She wasn’t supposed to be this far into the east side- god when her brother got out of the hospital he was gonna be so disappointed. The 14 year old Soc quickly placed a light blue letter into the mailbox. When she saw the door to the house open she ran away. Inside the letter it stated,
‘My brother says some of his other friends are gonna get payback- I’m sorry if anything happens, I don’t know what he’s gonna do. He says he told the police that Dallas jumped him n his friends, he won’t tell me anything else. Sorry. I don’t know what to do.
-Lolly S.’
it was clearly written hastily, because her usually neat handwriting was messy and sort of looked like scribbles instead of cursive.
'Jesus Christ.' The door swings open n Dallas slinks out onto the porch just in time to see the blonde whip of the girls braids disappear. 'That kids got some nerve, huh.' But his voice ain't condemnin, a low note of almost, respect, in his voice.
Tim ain't far behind, lookin after Dal at the now empty street corner. His gaze is unreadable, lingerin. 'She's... one of those assholes sisters, ain't she?' Dal twists, gives Tim a searchin, inscrutable look.
'Yeah. I think she left another note.' He brushes by, reaches into the mailbox n pulls out the colorful parchment, scoffin lightly. 'Jesus, you'd think she was givin us a tea party invite.' Tim finally tears his eyes off the corner n takes the letter Dal offers.
'Fuck.' He crumples it angrily, clenches it tight in his hand before Dallas gently pries it out, reads it over.
'Huh. Some help. Thanks kid.' Dallas mutters, drily, before smoothin the note out, slippin it in his pocket. Damn Darry, those letters had to count for somethin. Tim says nothin, his jaw clickin quietly as his works it back n forth, back n forth. 'Tim?'
His eyes are dark when they lift back to the corner, the single flickerin light illuminatin the empty sidewalk. 'Those Socs. They must love their sister an awful lot huh.'
Worry flashes across Dal's face as Tim stares past him. There's a low, growlin suggestion there, flickerin along the half hidden planes of his face. A reminder. One Dallas forgets. The slips unsuspectin past light-hearted threats n the soft hands that can pick locks n fix eggs as easily as they can break bones. That Timothy Fuckin Shepard is dangerous.
'Tim?' When he finally looks to Dallas he's already decided. N there ain't no convincin him otherwise.
'What d'ya think they'd do to keep her safe? Or maybe the real question is what wouldn't they do.'
