“He touch you, Lonny? He touch you?”

“Why you wanna know?” I say, but nothing else, just set my jaw tight so he’ll know not to fuck with me. You can never tell about Cuddles. Always fucking with somebody.

“Drink up, Lonny. The guys gonna be mad ’cause we got a head start.” Cuddles slaps me on the shoulder and ruffles my stringy hair.

I’m grinning now, feeling stupid, too.

“I know what you need, man,” he says. “Let’s get the rest of the guys and blow outta here.”

I don’t say nothing more to Cuddles and just “Hey, man” to Maxie and Lou waiting for us at the motorcycle garage in Chelsea. Lou has his machine up on the racks and comes toward us, wiping the grease off his hands. Maxie sits on a locked bike and leans forward and back like he’s speeding down I-95 and going into a long S-curve. He thinks he’s in some kind of pro race, but ain’t none of us old enough for the big time yet. Some places you got to be eighteen. I’m just a year away from quitting school if I want. Maxie is out of school already, but he don’t have a job. Maybe ’cause his round pink face is full of acne. Cuddles is blond and older than me by a couple of months. He’s funny, and you never know if he’s gonna turn on you, especially if he can act big around Lou and Maxie. Lou is eighteen and works at the cycle garage where we hang out. I usually get Cuddles after his job ’cause he’s near where I live. We walk the rest of the way. Sometimes Cuddles has his moped and we ride over. Junior cycle, we call it. Wish I had one.