The playground of the Southside Community Center was a total mess. The concrete paths were cracked and littered with trash. Beer bottles, candy wrappers, and soggy cardboard boxes lined the chainlink fences as if even they had tried to escape but had been caught.

The playground and basketball court were empty of people, especially now that night had fallen. A few streetlights tried in vain to stay on and illuminate the area, but they tiredly blinked on and off.

Carson's shoes were almost worn through at some parts, so he tried to avoid the shards of broken glass as he walked through the parking lot approaching the abandoned community center. He took a deep breath and scanned his surroundings. A street-wise kid even at fourteen, he had seen enough of these places to know he had better be looking out for himself.

He had come here to play as a kid. He remembered his mom and older sister taking him to this playground back when it was full of kids in the summer. He had learned to ride a bike here and had played basketball on the court. A drunk guy waving a knife around had been shot by police a few years ago and after that his mom never let him come back.

The community around there had initially been outraged about the shooting. For a while, there had been a shrine built in his memory with flowers and photos. People had organized and protested. Things got a little out of hand and some people had smashed windows and got into fights there near the playground. The shrine had slowly blown away with the wind and flowers were scattered around.

The next year, one of the neighborhood gangs and taken it over for a while, and anyone that tried to come and play basketball or use the playground got harassed and attacked. Heavy police presence came soon after that. The community just wasn't willing to keep the place nice and families were scared to attend any events put on by the center.

Soon trash started to pile up and kids started to use it as a place to go get drunk. At night, you could hear smashing bottles and yelling. Carson shivered a little but forced himself to stand up straight as he walked. He had nothing to be afraid of now. Practically a man, his face was known around here. He knew he wouldn't be messed with but still knew to keep his guard up.

Around the back of the community center, there was a garage. The door was halfway up and light and music emanated from inside. Carson approached carefully. He could see legs and shoes moving inside and he tried to get a feel for who was there before he went in. Always better to be prepared, he thought.

He bent down at the waist and stepped under the garage door. The bright light made him wince a little and he wasn't prepared for the volume of the music. There were about eight older guys in the garage, and they each turned to look at him. A few were smoking and all of them had beer or liquor bottles in their hands. While these guys looked older, he knew some of them were barely seventeen or eighteen.

A few weren't wearing shirts, and Carson admired their long curling tattoos that covered their arms and chests. They were all a mix of skin colors, mostly black and brown, but a few whites too. Some had definitely been spending time using the dumbells and the weight bench that stood off to the right-hand side.

He was young and small, but when he was here he felt welcomed. He felt like one of them. He couldn't wait to get his first tattoo. He pushed out his chest and walked toward the back. He walked as if he belonged, and soon the men's attention went back to their conversations. A few were shooting pool in the back corner on a table they had moved from the game room in the community center. A haze of cigarette smoke lingered up at the ceiling.

This was the "new" community center, and it wasn't paid for or supervised by the community. It was run by the Southside Eagles, one of the local gangs that had sprung up over the past few years. The gang had roots in the juvenile detention center that was a few miles east of the area. many had been in and out of jail and prison, some had rap sheets as long as their arms.

In a strange twist of irony, the community center had still brought people of the area together to socialize and exercise, but they just happened to be part of the quickly rising crime wave that was drowning the city. The group took in any neighborhood kid that wanted in. They offered protection and, in exchange for doing whatever they needed, some prospects of money and status.

That was a sacrifice that Carson was willing to make. He had never known his father, and his mom was spending more and more nights passed out high on the couch. A steady stream of creepy dudes had been stomping through his apartment and tossing him out on the street. He couldn't stand up to them and his mom didn't listen to his protests, so he headed out in search of a life of his own. He was practically a man now anyway.

He walked over to the guys shooting pool. He put his hand on the table, stopping the game. A guy in a tank top was just about to take a shot. He stopped mid-stroke and gave Carson a look that shot through him like a laser. The giant scorpion on his bicep seemed to move a little as he gripped the pool cue.

He was bent down to set up his shot and his chunky gold chain was so long it laid on the green felt of the table.

Carson was frozen but managed to get some words out. "Where's Carlos?" he said, hoping his voice didn't crack as it had been recently.

The man looked back at the pool table and finished his shot. The cue slammed and sent the balls cracking around the table. He moved around the table o set up his next shot. Carson gritted his teeth.

He grabbed one of the balls off of the table. The players noticed him then. He held it up and out in front of his chest. "I said, where's Carlos? I need to talk to him. It's important."

Scorpion stood to his full height. Carson was dwarfed. Still, he gripped the ball in his hand tighter. His knuckles turned white. His lips were a thin, tight line.

Scorpion's eyes narrowed as he took in this young kid, obviously trying to be a man a bit too early. The bass from the blaring music thumped in the background.

A small smile began to form on Scorpion's face. He broke his staredown and started laughing. Carson glanced around nervously. Was this some kind of prank?

"You're his little cousin, aren't you?" Scorpion asked.

Carson nodded.

Scorpion nodded his head toward a bay on the far side of the garage where a shiny El Camino was lifted up. A few guys were standing under it, looking into the underside of the classic car and holding beers.

"Thanks," Carson said. He started walking over.

"Hey!" Scorpion shouted at him. Carson froze in his tracks. "Gimmie the ball back you little pecker!" Scorpion shouted. The other players erupted in laughter.

He set the ball back on the table where it had been. As he walked over to see his oldest cousin, he took some deep breaths to calm himself. This wasn't going to be an easy conversation. No conversation with Carlos ever was. He could be intimidating.

His years in prison had hardened him. Carson could still remember playing baseball with him at neighborhood parties as kids. He had looked up to him. He was always a good athlete and respected on the street and in school. A stolen car joyride had changed his path forever.

The years in prison had resulted in more tattoos and bigger muscles, but also a solid steel shield that Carlos never let down. Carson knew deep down that those fun days of parties were gone. Carlos was his family, but he was more of a boss than anything now.

Three guys were standing under the hoisted El Camino. They were laughing and pointing at something in the exhaust system. Carlos was the tallest of them, an easy six feet. His light brown skin was covered with tattoos. Some were elaborate and colorful. A snarling dragon curled up his left arm in bright greens and blues. Others were poorly done scratchings he probably got in prison. Letters and shapes that Carson figured probably meant something serious, but were done with an untrained hand.

Despite the party atmosphere, he still wore a mechanic's shirt. A pale gray button-up with a patch over the left chest with his name written in red cursive. It wasn't stylish, but his shop was his life, and he wore the uniform with pride.

Carlos greeted Carson with a fist bump. The other two gave him a quick head nod.

"What do you think, little cousin? Will we need to replace this or just weld the join back together? Carlos pointed up under the car.

Carson looked up. The maze of car parts was a mystery to him. He couldn't even tell anything was broken.

"Uh... I guess weld it? Or, or probably replace it. Yeah, replace it." Carson glanced at the other guys for some sign that he had picked the correct choice.

Carlos laughed. "I still need to teach you things little cousin. Don't play like you know something when you don't. You can't fool anybody."

"I don't play like that." Carson tried to defend himself."I just have never seen this type of car. What is it? Some kind of little truck? Looks stupid."

Carlos and the guys broke up laughing. "Little dude's never seen an El Camino? You're too young!" One of the men said as he tried to hold back his laghter.

Carlos put his hand on Carson's shoulder. "Hey go easy on my little cousin. He's not even allowed to leave his apartment except to come see me. Right? Poor dude's never experienced anything, right?" Carson nodded in agreement.

"I'm gonna bring you up right though. You stick with me and this crew. We'll take care of you. When we get this thing running I'm gonna take you out in it. All the girls will break their necks looking at you pushing this ride!" Carlos held his young cousin's shoulder with a tight grip.

"Speaking of this crew," Carlos said. "Let's talk about your job, eh?" He led him by the shoulder away from the car. He didn't release his grip on Carson's shoulder. It grew a little tighter as he steered him into a back office.

"How did it go? You feel strong holding that piece for a while? It wasn't too heavy for you was it?" Carlos laughed but the smile didn't make it up to his eyes. They still peirced with seriousness.

"I know you wanted me to get used to carrying it. And thanks. I love it. Hopefully you'll let me keep it. It was to heavy and kept sagging my pants down. I couldn't keep it hidden."

"Hidden from who? Don't tell me you took it to school little cousin."

"No..no I didn't take it to school." Carson swalloed and noticed that the little back office had a window. Scorpion had stopped shooting pool and had was watching their talk.

Carlos shook his head and his grip on Carson's shoulder grew tighter. It started to hurt and he winced at the pain. "What did I tell you before? Don't play me. I've seen and heard it all. Don't bring that stuff in here, in my own place. You took it to school didn't you?"

Carson didn't make eye contact and instead examined the papers and tools strewn around the messy little office. "Is this where you do the..."

"I said don't play with me!" Carlos shouted now and Carson started to bend at the pain in his shoulder.

"It's in my locker. Nobody is going to find it!. I had to stash it. Bruno and I were boxing and he caught my nose. I was bleeding. The teacher was asking questions about what happend. I had to stash it." Carlos tried to back away. The strong hand held him in place.

" You just did something very stupid. I thought I could trust you with that! You said you wanted to hold it. Maybe get some reputation on the block with that. I'm glad I didn't load it for you. Who knows what you would have done.

You can't go back to that school now. Cops will be waiting for you now.

I can't beleive I trusted you! You have to earn that kind of trust. I thought I knew my family. Maybe I don't." Carlos shook his head and looked away.

"Nobody knows about it!" Carson was pleading. Losing his older counsin's trust was devastating.

"You can't risk that now. Walk past the school tomorrow and see if there's police cars out front. You see even one you turn around and come right back here." Carlos was demanding. "That was your last chance. One more screw up like that and you're not welcome here anynore. I can't have people that make stupid mistakes like that in my crew. You gotta get some sense in your dumb head."

Carson was red in the face and stammering. His guilt and shame was showing. He wished there wasn't an open window. He didn't need these guys seeing this side of him.

Carlos stood up and grabbed a broom from the corner. He shoved it into Carson's hands. "You're sweeping this place up tonight. And don't miss a single speck. This floor better be clean enough to eat off of when you're done."

Carson sulked out of the office. He rolled his shoulder to ease the pain a little. He dragged the broom behind him. Scorpion follwed him with his eyes as he walked past.

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