Middle School Mafia

Honcho likes to conduct his business at the aquarium. Why? It’s dark, it’s crowded, and no one pays attention to middle school kids there, even when they’re locked into intense conversations.

Jim is currently waiting by the shark tank. Honcho’s favorite place in the aquarium. Go figure.

Honcho and his thugs’s approach is broadcast by sounds of scuffling and several “Heys!” and “Watch its!”.

When he emerges from the crowd, Honcho is wearing his customary green army jacket, and is trailed by his “boys”, the meanest, scruffiest folk Pleasant View Middle School has to offer.

“Look at that,” he says by way of greeting Jim. Honcho’s eyes are on the tank. “What a beauty. You see the sting ray on the way in? Incredible.”

Kaiden “Honcho” McAdams, terror of Pleasant View Middle School, and fish enthusiast.

“Sure is,” Jim says, trying to sound agreeable and light.

“Let’s get down to business,” Honcho says, after he’s satisfied himself that the shark is in its usual place, and swimming suitably in the regular way. He turns from the tank to give Jim a heavy stare. “You wanted to meet. Now here I am, making a trip to my office just for you. So what do you want?” He spits the remnants of a jawbreaker onto the floor.

Honcho’s boys leer and titter in the periphery. Jim tries not to wince. He has to stay focused.

“I’m here to negotiate amnesty for Millie Washington.”

“Amnesty?”

“You know, stop writing mean limericks about her on the blackboard, stop squashing worms inside her textbooks. Et and cetera.”

“There’s a lot of worms out there. They gotta be squashed somewhere.”

“Anywhere else is fine.”

“That’s beside the point, Albright. Millie cheated. At Cluedo, our sacred game.”

Honcho’s boys titter again and elbow each other.

“Therefore,” says Honcho, drawing out the word. “She must experience consequences.”

“She didn’t cheat. She’s just smart.”

“Think carefully about your next words.”

“Smarter than you.”

“And a whole lot smarter than you, if this conversation tells me anything.”

Honcho isn’t budging. It’s time to raise the stakes.

“Ask your boys to check out the eels.” The eels are on the other side of the aquarium.

Honcho eyes Jim. He seems amused by the gall. “Not likely.”

“I said I came to negotiate, so that’s what I’m going to do.” Jim musters up his courage. “And trust me, you won’t want an audience for this.” He pats his jacket, and something rustles beneath it.

The following pause is so long that Jim hears an entire off-key recital of the Happy Birthday song coming from some dark corner of the aquarium before Honcho breaks the silence.

“You’ve made me curious,” he says finally. “And if there’s one thing I hate more than people who cheat at Cluedo, it’s boredom.”

He waves at his boys, who grumble and drag their feet as they leave. Likely, they were hoping to watch Honcho dole out some justice, middle school mafia style.

Once Jim is sure none of Honcho’s boys are lurking in the nearby crowds, he pulls out the hidden object. A manila envelope.

He hands it to Honcho, who opens it slowly and with an expression of boredom, to show that he is still in control of the situation. He slides a collection of photographs into his hand.

It’s hard to tell in the unearthly blue lighting of the aquarium, but Jim thinks Honcho’s face pales.

“What is this?” Honcho asks, aggressively flipping through the glossy 8x10s.

“Pictures. As you’ll notice, they appear to depict a devout grandson as he volunteers at a local retirement home.” Jim rubs his thumb against a smudge on the glass in front of them. “Wouldn’t your boys find it fascinating to discover that their feared leader has such a soft spot… for the geriatric?”

Honcho musters up the sternest glare Jim has ever seen from him. “You don’t want to play this game, Albright.”

“You’re right. All I want, is for Millie to go unharmed from here on out. Say you got bored of it. Say she’s too easy a target. Say whatever, but just leave her alone and these pictures disappear forever.”

Honcho smashes the photos between his hands until they are a wrinkled mass. “You have a deal, Albright. Just pray you don’t live to regret it.”

Jim folds the manila envelope into quarters and tucks it back into his jacket. “I can always get more if I need to.”

“You are going to rue this, one day.”

They are both momentarily distracted as the shark prowls closer, then eerily away again.

Jim tries to sound nonchalant. “Hey, you wanna know something?”

“You’ve already shared plenty.” Honcho crosses his arms.

“He’d kill you in an instant.”

“Who?”

Jim taps on the shark’s window.

“Don’t touch the glass, please,” a passing grown-up says, glaring.

Jim waits until the woman’s attention is diverted by distant jellyfish. “But the funny thing is, as long as he’s in there, no one’s afraid of him.”

Honcho growls asthmatically. “You haven’t seen the last of me.”

“I know.”

Jim watches as Honcho stalks off in search of his boys. Probably he’ll twist this all to sound like he bested Jim, and Honcho’s boys will tell their ringleader how great and awesome he is. But whatever it takes to keep those rouges away from Millie will be worth it.

A figure detaches from the shifting crowd and joins Jim, staring into the shark’s tank.

“It’s not exactly true, you know,” she says. “What you said about him. Sharks aren’t generally interested in killing people. In fact, there are fewer than 5 shark-related deaths in the U.S. per decade.”

Jim doesn’t take his eyes off the imprisoned predator. “Maybe he’s relieved. As long as he’s behind this glass, he doesn’t have to decide whether or not he’s truly bloodthirsty.”

They watch the shark stalk another slow circle around his enclosure.

“Speaking of bloodthirsty, I could really use a Capri Sun right now. Wanna come over to my place and play Cluedo?”

“Sure.” Jim smiles at Millie as they leave the aquarium and walk out into the approaching dusk.