The Interview by Eric Weule Page A

little dance in her seat, like she's got ants in her pants or
something. Her face is all panicky, so I ask her if she's all right.
She turns to me with a look of pure terror and says, 'I forgot my
phone.' Seventy-year-old woman acting like that over a phone.
Ridiculous.”
    “I hear you.”
    “So I tell her she'll be fine. To relax. But no, she starts
panicking. What if one of the grandkids falls into the toilet or gets
kidnapped or spits up. I said, 'Get a grip woman.' Ended that right
there.”
    “So you turned around and came home.”
    “Amen to that, Kelly.” He held his fist. We
knuckle-bumped. He's a hip guy. “She got her phone. We skipped
the bowl and went to the concert in the park over at Tri-Cities
instead. It was good. Not the Bowl, understand, but it turned out
nice.”
    Amen to that.
    The kid on the ground spotted the joint on the roof. He stopped
laughing. “Hey, man! That's not cool, Brad!”
    Brad laughed, waved, and took a monster hit. The kid on the ground
ran into the house and a few moments later climbed out the window to
get his share.
    “Dude, I can see for miles up here.”
    “I know, but how are we going to get down?”
    “Dude, where'd the ladder go?”
    Mr. Allen finished his smoke. He pitched it in the gutter. “Screw
it, let them fall. I'll catch you later, Kelly.”
    “Later, Mr. Allen.”

    THE ROMANOVICHES LIVE A FEW houses down from Mr. Allen. I thought
about knocking on the door, but decided that I didn't really want to
know too much about the problem. Their problem wasn't my concern.
Tristan, a bunch of money, and Mr. Bat were my concerns. I dropped
their mail, then kept on walking.
    I ran home for lunch. Annette was gone, but the money was still
there. I didn't want to have to tell Mr. Bat that I had lost his
money. I made sure the house was locked, then headed over to my next
stop.
    The Athens Gang was having a meeting of the minds. There are four
gangs in Placentia. Atwood, La Jolla, and Plas were the three
Hispanic gangs that worked out of the Southern half of town. I'm on
the northern end of town, and that was Athens territory.
    They stared me down and I stared right back. Show no fear! That's
the secret with the hoodlums. I did the even side of the street, then
started down the odd. They watched me the whole time. Punks! I
reached the Williams' house, dropped the mail in the box, and turned
to face them. There were seven of them standing beneath a big tree
with lots of branches. I know trees like I know guns.
    One of them nodded to me. I nodded back. He stepped out from the tree
and blocked my path.
    “What up?” he asked me.
    “Nada. What up wit’ you?”
    “Cat got out. Ran up the tree.”
    “Haven't told your mom yet.”
    “Nah. She freaks when he gets out.”
    “I'll check it out.”
    “Cool.” We did a complicated handshake that would have
left Stephanie Plum bewildered.
    Three girls and four boys surrounded me at the base of the tree. They
ranged in age from ten to five. I was an honorary member of the gang
on the basis that I was the only adult they knew that could do the
handshake. It's the little things with kids. I am always wary of them
though. They reminded me of the pack of killer whales. If they ever
decided it would be fun to torture me they wouldn't hesitate.
    “What's up little dudes?” You have to speak their
language. It's key to keeping the peace. I know other carriers that
have cute little kids just like these on their routes. They've been
pelted with rocks, snow cones, and in one case, have had dogs
deliberately set upon them by the little bundles of joy.
    “Hi, Mail Dude,” they all replied as one.
    “We called the fire department, but they said no.”
    “Doesn't surprise me. They're lazy. I got this.”
    Sure, because I climb trees all the time. That's why I had this.
    The lowest branch was even with my face. I wrapped some rubber bands
around my mail then set it off to the side. I boosted myself up onto
the branch. Piece of cake. The