Ferdy

Although I had heard about Ferdy since Tony told me about him, I wasn’t prepared to meet the husky kid with thick dark curls and pale, lizard-like skin riding toward me. Nobody in Tory Island had a Stingray Chopper bicycle with ape-hanger handlebars. And nobody wore thick gold necklaces.

“Eh, Tony,” I elbowed the rawboned kid sitting beside me at the Voyager Café. He had scored a winning point in a soccer game against New Grange and we were celebrating with milkshakes. “Is, eh, that … Ferdy?”

Tony looked up from the Fire Emblem Heroes game he was playing on his phone. Over the past six months, his pale complexion had darkened into a healthy tan and his frail body had developed a few muscles. But the sight of the kid on the customized bike drained color from his face and sapped the strength from his almost-brawny shoulders.

“Crap.” Tony’s straw-colored hair now matched his ashen face and his wiry shoulders sagged. His chestnut brown eyes turned muddy as he turned to me. “Bonnie, he’s gonna kill me.”

“Not as long as I’m here.” I stood up to face Ferdy as he screeched to a halt at our table. Oversized aviator sunglasses covered the upper half of his face. A snarled grin covered the bottom. I knew I didn’t sound convincing, but Tony was my responsibility. He was a MacCarthy and I was, after all, the leader of the Clan.

“Hi there.” My strong voice surprised me. “I’m Bonnie. People around here call me Ghost Girl. What’s your name? You must be new …”

With a pretentious flourish, Ferdy leaned his bike against the fence that surrounded the outdoor seating area. He then swaggered over to Tony, who reacted by tucking his head into his chest. His hands shook. His legs clenched.

“Get out of the way, girl. I don’t care what people call you. And as far as you’re concerned, the name is Ferdinand.” He tried to shove me aside, but an invisible presence secured me in place. Ferdy swiped the sunglasses off his face. I tried to engage his pale blue eyes, but they were riveted on Tony. He stuck a pudgy finger in his direction. “I’m here to see that loser.”

“Yo, Setanta. Look at me. I’m talkin’ to you.” Tony barely lifted his head. Nobody called him by his last name. Nobody but Ferdy. “You ratted me out, Setanta. Don’t think for a minute that I forgot that stunt of yours back at the police station. You willingly took the money for Connor. I didn’t make you do nothin’. I spent six months in juvey for your prank. Six months. You’re gonna pay for that. I ain’t leavin’ town until I whoop your butt.”

Tony dissolved into a puddle of mush.

“Name the time and place.” Ferdy glared.

“Next week,” I said, inhaling deeply to steady my nerves. Tony was my responsibility. I speak for my people when they can’t. “Tuesday. Mourning Stream. By the dam that crosses the beach trail. You’ll figure it out.”