Ron slapped a hand against his leg. “Does that mean that he owns me? And you?”

She shrugged. “It means you can’t quit th’ gang. Unless he says it’s okay.”

“And you? If he lets me go, will you come with me?”

“Al won’t lemme go.” She looked away from Ron.

He reached out and touched Sylvia’s shoulder. “But if he was willing to let you go, would you come with me?”

She wouldn’t look at him. She stared down at the floor.

Ron lifted her chin with his outstretched hand until she was gazing right at him. “Would you?” he asked.

In a voice so low that he could barely hear it, Sylvia said, “Yes.”

Ron smiled at her. “Okay. I guess I’d better get to that war meeting, then.”

“Don’t do anything that’ll hurt Al in front of Dino,” Sylvia called to him as he started for the steps.

The roof was packed with guys, warriors and others that Ron had never seen before. As Ron edged through the door to join the crowd, he could hear Dino shouting: “Them Muslims been gettin’ too smart for their own damned good! It’s time we taught ’em a lesson!”

“Yeah!”

“Right on!”

“Hell yeah!”

Then one of the guys standing next to Ron suddenly called out, “Hey look who’ here! The fix-it dude!”

Everyone turned toward Ron. Through the sea of faces Ron could see Al up at the head of the crowd. He was almost smiling, as if he was really glad to see Ron.

“Hey, Ron, we thought you was killed.”

Ron wormed his way up to the front of the crowd. “No, I’m all right. I stayed . . .” Don’t tell them who you stayed with! Ron warned himself. “Uh . . . I stayed in the market area, hid out until the Muslims left. I hear there was trouble.”

“I hear there was trouble,” Dino sing-songed, trying to make Ron’s words sound funny. “Humpin’ right there was trouble. And there’s gonna be more. Right?”

“Right!” answered half a dozen guys.

“Cool it,” Al snapped. “Ron, we thought the Muslims killed you. But since they didn’t maybe we don’t have any real reason for fightin’ against ’em.”

“No reason!” Dino shouted. “Them black bastards gonna take over th’ whole humpin’ city if we don’t stop ’em!”

Al made a sour face. “We ain’t gonna stop ’em by runnin’ crazy. Dontcha think they’re ready for us right now? Waitin’ for us?”

“Half th’ gangs between here and th’ market are ready t’ fight,” Dino argued. “We gonna jus’ sit here?”

“Be smarter if we wait ’til all th’ gangs between here and th’ market are ready to march t’gether,” Al said. “An’ all th’ midtown gangs, too.”

“No!” Dino yelled. “I say we fight ’em now. An’ if yer too chicken t’ fight, then I’ll take th’ gang with me!”

Al stayed unruffled. But his eyes blazed. “Dino, you got such hot rocks t’ fight th’ Muslims, go fight ’em. But the Gramercy gang don’t declare war on nobody without a vote.”

Dino stood there looking like a volcano about to blow its top. His face was getting redder and redder.

Al said, “You wanna take a vote?”

“No!” Dino snarled. “I don’t need no vote. I’m goin’ with whoever starts after the Muslims. An’ there’s plenny guys here who’ll go with me. Right?”

This time only a few voices answered, “Right.”

“Go on then,” Al said calmly. “Anytime you wanna. An’ you can come back anytime, too. But th’ Gramercy gang ain’t declarin’ war on nobody. Not today.”

Dino stamped off, pushing through the crowd. He kicked the door open and disappeared down the stairs. The meeting started to break up. Guys began drifting toward the door in groups of two or three, talking among themselves.

Ron waited until everybody else had left the roof, and he was alone with Al.

Al’s tired face almost smiled at him. “I’m glad yer okay. We got plenty worried when you didn’t show up an’ we heard th’ Muslims had taken over th’ market. You see Sylvia? She was pretty shook up about you.”

Nodding, Ron said, “I saw her.”

“Okay.”

For a moment, Ron didn’t know what to say or do. There was something in Al’s eyes, those old-man’s eyes set into his young face, something that Ron couldn’t fathom.

Finally he blurted, “Al, I want to leave the gang.”

“Leave? Whaddaya mean?”

Ron told him about Dewey. “I’d still work for you, for the gang. I’d fix anything you want, anytime you want. For free.”

But Al was frowning. “Can’t letcha go. Too much stirrin’ right now. Gangs ain’t supposed t’ let guys quit. It’s a bad thing. ’Specially right now, with this Dino crap an’ th’ Muslims an’ all.” He shook his head. “The answer’s gotta be no.”

Ron asked, “Suppose I stay a member of the gang, but just live in the market area, with this old guy. How would that be?”

“I dunno,” Al said slowly. “I gotta think about it . . . later, after all this trouble settles down.”

With a shrug, Ron said, “Okay. Later.” Don’t even mention Sylvia to him. Don’t even think about it!

Ron started for the door that led downstairs. Al called to him, “Hey, don’t take off on yer own, now, unnerstand? I’d just hafta send a coupla guys t’ drag ya back. Don’t make me do that.”

Ron nodded. “I won’t.”

Al studied him for a long, silent moment. “I’m sorry it’s gotta be this way.”

“So am I,” Ron said.

That night Ron’s sleep was filled with dreams. He dreamed of Dewey, of Al, of the dark somber Muslims walking through the streets of the market area with their rifles slung over their shoulders. He dreamed of Sylvia. Mostly of her.