Mule took a step forward and clenched his fist. Bobby wanted to run but Mule’s bulk blocked his way. As the mulatto boy’s fist moved in a roundhouse arc through the air, Bobby instinctively raised his right arm, which was holding the bat.
The bat shuddered in his hand. ‘Shee-it!’ Mule screamed. He began walking in small circles, clutching his right hand, blowing on its fingers in a desperate effort to ease his pain. ‘Goddamn!’ he shouted. His friends stared wonderingly at him, and Bobby realised that Mule had punched the bat instead of him.
As the pain began to subside, Mule stopped walking. He glared at Bobby. ‘I’m gonna get you, motherfucker,’ he said, his teeth clenched. He took a threatening step towards him; again out of instinct, Bobby raised the bat in the air and Mule stopped in his tracks. Bobby realised now that the bat was a weapon, not just baseball equipment, and emboldened by this discovery he took a step towards Mule, raising the bat high in the air.
Mule moved away, stepping backward so quickly that he bumped into the skinny kid in the Bears T-shirt, who was himself so frightened that he pushed at Mule, desperate to keep him between himself and the baseball bat.
‘Be cool, man,’ the runt said. Mule retreated to the back fence. The skinny boy had his hands up and looked absolutely petrified.
‘Just go,’ said Bobby, trying to sound forceful. There must have been a faltering note to his voice which the runt heard, because he didn’t back up. For a moment Bobby thought he might actually come forward – he seemed fearless.
But the runt stepped sideways instead, landing his foot quite purposely on Duval’s glasses. ‘Come on,’ he shouted, and all three of them ran out of the yard, Mule still holding his wrist.
Bobby went and picked up the glasses – one lens was shattered like crushed ice, and the frames were badly bent. He handed them gingerly to Duval. ‘I’m sorry, Duval.’
Duval didn’t say anything, but folded them and put them in his shirt pocket. He looked dazed.
Upstairs Vanetta was still ironing in the kitchen, and as they came in she took in at once that something was wrong. ‘What’s happened?’ she said, sitting the iron on the board.
‘Some boys came into the yard and wanted money,’ said Duval. He added quickly, ‘They didn’t get none.’
Either out of relief or shock, Bobby started to cry.
‘They hurt you?’ Vanetta said to Bobby. He shook his head, and started to wipe his eyes, embarrassed that he was crying and Duval wasn’t.
‘He hurt them, Vanetta,’ Duval crowed.
‘What happened?’ she asked and pointed at Duval’s glasses. ‘They break your glasses?’
Duval nodded.
She unplugged the iron, setting it upright on the board, then untied her apron. ‘Shit,’ she said, which was very rare. Bobby had only heard her swear like that when he’d scared her once, jumping out of the linen closet down the hall, shouting boo. Now she grabbed a broom and started towards the door, her jaw set in determination. ‘They still out there?’
‘They’re gone, Vanetta,’ said Bobby. ‘They ran away.’
She put the broom against the wall. ‘You sure they didn’t hurt you?’
‘One of them slapped me up side the head,’ said Duval. ‘But I’m all right. They was gonna hurt Bobby, but he hit one of them with the bat.’ He pointed to Floyd Robinson, lying on the kitchen table. ‘Bobby was brave. He stuck up for me.’
Bobby didn’t say a word. He knew he had been brave by accident.
That evening when Vanetta said goodnight, she hugged Bobby fiercely. ‘That’s for being brave,’ she said. ‘You two just like Damon and Pythias.’
‘Who?’ he asked, certain it must be people from the Bible. It almost always was.
‘Friends who helped each other when they needed it.’
Duval appeared with his coat on. ‘Come on, baby,’ she said affectionately, and turned to Bobby. ‘And goodnight, my other baby. Though you two is getting too big to call you babies any more. You be fine young men quicker than I can spit.’
After this Bobby felt even closer to Duval, though he remained embarrassed that his friend thought he had been heroic. They still played whiffle ball in the back, though Bobby was nervous the first few times, and kept a bat within reach, even when it was his turn to pitch. The safety of their play had been lost, and now when he climbed the maple to fetch the ball, he was reluctant to