Title: The Conscience of a Friend

Author: Birgitt Schuknecht

Fandom: due South

Rating: R

Pairing: none

Category: drama

Disclaimer: The characters used in the following story are not mine. I do not make any money out of this. It's written for fun and for the fans of the show.

Spoilers: The Deal (kind of)

Teaser: Ray Vecchio finds a friend .

By Birgitt Schuknecht.

"Come on, Marco, try it. At least you have to try..." Ray Vecchio let his voice trail off in a mock-serious whine, knowing full well that his best friend, Marco Mitrani, would follow his lead as usual. That was the case now for over five years. Since their first days of school they had been nearly inseparable, himself spending whole weeks with the Mitranis. Sometimes his mother had to come for him just to check if he was still alive.

Marco never discussed with Ray why he didn't invite him to the Vecchio house. Once Ray had made a remark that made Marco guess the reason for it, but it was something Ray was determined not to speak about again and he was glad that Marco accepted that as an oddity but a rather unimportant oddity of their friendship. Ray liked him all the more for it. He knew that sometimes Marco pondered over his - Ray's - mood swings, but he held his distance at those times. That made Ray more comfortable with Marco than with any other person in the world, including the members of his vast family.

Now the two friends were sitting in front of the Mitrani home, in the baking sun of August. It was just the middle of their summer holidays, and the two boys had a serious matter to discuss. As usual Ray did the talking, supported by hands and arms, if necessary - and there were few times when Ray didn't think it necessary. And Marco did the thinking, weighing the risks of Ray's newest plan against the glory if it succeeded. Ray observed Marco intently, forcing himself to keep his mouth shut for a while. It might help Marco thinking, although it was hard on himself. Not before long he began fidgeting.

Finally Marco looked up at him. His dark brown eyes under an equally dark brown mop of thick hair showed a little sparkle. Ray couldn't avoid a grin. He'd known Marco wouldn't let him down. And he'd been right again. "That's my boy! I'm on my way. I'll take care of everything, don't ya worry." He almost turned, before a thought came to his mind, already busy with the details of his plan. "Ah, maybe you can do a few shots till I'm back." He grinned sheepishly. "Ya know, just to be on the safe side. Not that you'd need the exercise, but still..."

That broke finally Marco's silence. "Oh, get your ass going, Vecchio. If you're going to pester me another minute I won't do it." His laughing eyes belied his rude words. Ray put his hands into the pockets of his shorts in deliberate slow motion. "Oh darlin', I just love you when you're cross with me." Before Marco could hit him with the basketball that was lying next to him Ray turned and broke into a run. Ah, it was summer, school was out and they were going to teach Frankie Zuko a lesson. It was good to be alive and it was good to be him. He reduced his pace to a stroll, just to enjoy the day and to make most of the task that lay ahead of him.

***

Ray was only eleven years old, but he had seen his share of unhappiness in his little world. He had grown up in an almost ghetto-like Italo-American neighbourhood in Chicago. The first rule kids had to learn here was to respect the family. And respecting the family meant in Ray's case two things. First, that his father was no man who discussed matters of obedience; second, that nothing in the neighbourhood happened without the knowledge and the "benediction" of the Zuko family. And Ray had learned that rule the hard way, in both cases.

Since the earliest times Ray could remember, his father tried to educate him as he saw fit. That meant harsh words in the best of cases and brutal force in the worst. His mother was little help and Ray didn't blame her for it. He had seen bruises on her face and arms as well. Him being the only boy he got most of his father's "loving" attention. He never hit his sisters, Maria, five years older than Ray, or Francesca, two years younger than him. Sometimes that fact made it harder for Ray to tolerate his father's abuse, sometimes it helped him to recover from it, seeing himself some kind of protection for his sisters. But most of the time he stayed away from his father as best as he could.

The days before he went to school he remembered just as a dark room, full of fear and tears. He tried to hold those memories well locked behind a heavy door. Sometimes the door opened a little bit, all by itself it seemed, and then he woke in the middle of the night, whimpering in the aftermath of another nightmare. He didn't dare to cry, in case his father would hear it and would open the door to the dark room full width.

Going to school was a relieve in itself - at the beginning. Each day he would spend several hours away from his home, and that meant staying clear off his father. Ray even enjoyed the classes. He was a good student as long as there weren't any exams. He hated those. Every time his teachers put up a test, he failed miserably, much to their astonishment. One teacher even tried to speak to his parents about it. Ray had no idea what they talked about, he was made to wait outside. When his father came out again, Ray could see that tonight wouldn't going to be easy for him. And it wasn't.

That was the last time a teacher tried to help him in any way. Ray overheard a discussion between his parents. Discussion, all right. His father was yelling at his mother, telling her in clear words that the whole school business could go to hell. That he had told Ray's teacher she could go to hell as well. That if he, Ernesto Vecchio, would ever hear any more complaints about his son, he would give her a special visit at home.

Hadn't it been for the tone of his father's voice when he said that, Ray would have thought his father had tried to protect him. But the yelling was the same Ray got almost every day from his father. So he gathered that his father just didn't want to be bothered with anything concerning him - Ray - the failure of the Vecchio family.

Then there was Frankie Zuko. He was the only son of a rich family in the neighbourhood. The Zukos played in another league, his father had told him some time ago. They had no business with the Vecchios. Ray was expected to pay respect whenever he met one of that family - which he did, every Sunday after church. It was a small price to pay for going, since Ray loved being in the small church of their parish, St. Michael's. He liked their old priest very much. Father Antonio had a very prominent white beard, blue kind eyes and longish white hair. When he was little, Ray had believed him to be God himself. It was kind of embarrassing when he found out he was not.

When church was out, the whole parish seemed to gather in a two lines next to the path leading from the church to the street, so that the Zukos could parade between those lines. Ray had heard stories of ancient kings told by his mother. It was just like that with the Zukos. When the head of the family passed them, his father would lift his hat - like all the others did - and bowed rather deeply. Apart from the beating it was the only physical ability his father seemed to possess. Little Ray was made to imitate the bowing. When he had refused the first time, his father had thrashed his back for more than five minutes. Ray could tell the time because during the beatings he concentrated on counting the seconds. The little boy learned counting up to five hundred and twenty-three before he was five years old.

Seeing the Zukos after church was the only contact Ray had with that family - until he went to school. To his astonishment he learned that Frankie Zuko was only a month younger than him. He wouldn't have thought that. Frankie had always looked like an very innocent and very young angel to him. It was just his face, not his hair and his eyes, those were of a very dark colour, but his face that made Ray think of an angel.

That changed when he got to know the boy in school. Frankie was arrogant and cruel, a bully, a coward... Ray learned all that in just two days. And he felt like he had found in Frankie a soulmate of his father's. Although Ray was only six years old, he had developed a keen eye for his fellow humans, as a means of survival. He knew after a few hours of observation if people were really the people they pretended to be. It was even easier in Frankie's case. Frankie Zuko had no reasons for pretension. He was the little prince and he lived up to people's expectations. A week after school had started he was the centre of attention. The teachers better humoured him, his father would have the means to make them, if they refused. And his fellow students learned that the well-meaning of a Zuko paid.

Ray wondered for a short time how he should behave himself around Frankie. He knew that it would be intelligent and right to become friends with him. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. When he saw into Frankie's eyes there was too much that reminded him of his father. So he resolved to stay away from him, even if that meant to have no one in class Ray could speak to.

Although he knew that Frankie kind of specialised in bringing outsiders back into line, he did not want to be like all the others. It had not helped to avoid the beatings his father gave him when he tried to live up to his standards and to do as he was told to do. His father did not need an excuse to beat him, he just had to be in "the mood" for it. And it was the same with Frankie. His mood dictated his actions, not the behaviour of the people around him. Humouring him did not protect anyone from Frankie's sudden outbursts of his unpredictable temper. Sometimes it seemed that it was just that humouring setting his temper off.

Frankie tried two, no three times to win Ray over. The first attempt was an offer of friendship and protection. Ray refused, trying to ignore his stomach and be polite. That had stunned the little prince, more than it had angered him - at first, that is. The anger came later. That led to the second attempt. Of course Frankie did not corner Ray alone, some of his goons were with him. Ray could remember only two of them with clarity. The rest was blurred in a memory of pain.

His mother cried out loud when she dressed up her sons wounds. And Ray was only wondering why she did cry. He'd been hurt before by his father, far worse than now. So when she asked him who had done it to him - for once knowing that his father wasn't responsible - he just looked at her and that made her crying even more. She kept him home for another day, but he still refused to speak about it. That got him another beating from his father. And Ray did not know whom he should hate more. His father or Frankie Zuko. He decided to give both an equal share. But Ray didn't dare to show his hate, neither to his father, nor to Frankie. He fled into isolation.

The third time he had a run-in with Frankie was during the long break in school. The boys played basketball, except Ray, sitting by himself, studying. Sometimes he asked himself why he didn't give up all that learning. Everything he memorised so easily when he was on his own would fly away when any of his teachers so much as looked at him. But what else could he do? He looked up, watching the game. He liked basketball, much better than baseball. He liked touching the ball, dribbling it seemed to be like caressing it. He played regularly at home, taking shots at the basket behind the Vecchio house. The ball he used was precious to him, a present from his favourite uncle, his namesake. His uncle was in the military now, and he came to visit very rarely. But when he'd left he'd given his basketball to his five year old nephew. His father had just muttered, about Ray being far too small and fat to be good at playing. Uncle Raimondo had given Ray a reassuring smile and said that he would grow, maybe even become taller than himself. That had made Ray laugh, because Uncle Raimondo was the tallest man he knew. Later his laughter had turned into tears when his uncle had been picked up by one of his friends and waved good-bye to him. He'd run away with the basketball in his hands. He hadn't been able to be near his father after seeing his uncle leave.

Now he sat in the schoolyard, eyeing his fellow students with ill-concerned desire. Frankie had picked out his team, carefully avoiding the not so talented players. No way that a Zuko could lose a game, whatever game was to be played. His team was well in the lead and the players were eager to bring their centre player into the best shooting positions instead the other way round. Guess who that centre was! When Ray had seen Frankie play the first time, he had been stunned. Frankie Zuko was really good. He had the right technique and he was fast. If he'd just played it a team sport, he would have been brilliant. But there was only one thing on Frankie's mind and that was Frankie Zuko! Today he was at his best, shooting at the basket from sheer incredible distances and - succeeding. Ray caught himself thinking how much he desired to play with Frankie just once.

He shook his head determinedly, wondering where that thought had come from. In the next moment the playing stopped and every student in the yard except Frankie fell silent. He was yelling at one of his own team players. Ray blinked a little and recognised Marco Mitrani, a very good player, a real match even for Frankie Zuko. What Ray could gather from Frankie's screams told him, that Marco had dared to take a shot himself, instead of passing the ball over to Frankie who was firm in the belief that he had been in a better position.

Afterwards Ray couldn't tell what made him go over to the crowd centring around Frankie and Marco. He even squeezed through between the others and stood just a few paces from Frankie. The little prince had started giving Marco little shoves. Marco just tried - unsuccessfully - to keep out of Frankie's range. Finally he tripped and fell backwards, his head bumping with a sickening thud on the concrete. That made all the on-lookers jump and Ray dashed forward to check on Marco. The boy blinked up to Ray, but wasn't able to say anything. "Ya awright, Marco?" Ray's voice showed real concern. Marco blinked again and nodded slightly. When he tried to sit up with Ray's help his head rolled onto Ray's shoulder and he closed his eyes. Ray was shocked and put Marco's head carefully back on the ground. He would have to call for help.

As he stood and turned he faced Frankie Zuko. The boy's face was still flushed with anger and he snarled at Ray: "Keep out of this, Vecchio, go home to mama! Marco is my friend and I'll take care of him." Frankie pronounced every word very clearly, as if he was talking to a madman. But Ray was in no mood of being reasonable. With a voice that seemed not be his own he told his opponent. "You're no friend to no one, Zuko, you're just a pain in the ass." The last word came out like a hiss of a serpent and Zuko stepped back as if he feared being bitten by Ray. Murmurs rose in the crowd around them. Murmurs of disbelieve.

Ignoring Zuko Ray turned towards Marco, who lay on the ground very still. Ray looked around him, but the faces of his fellow students just showed shock and fear, no way he would find help here. He pushed through the crowd, making his way to the school building, when someone grabbed him from behind by the collar of his T-shirt. The fabric gave away and he got free. In a flash he was up the stairs, banging on the door of the teachers' office. Ray wondered shortly why all of them were inside, there should have been at least one teacher outside. When he saw the face of Miss Cassini as she came out after the fraction of a second, he thought she looked guilty and embarrassed. Before he could say a word, she just stroked his cheek for a second, then ran down the stairs and made her way through the crowd. Ray stood like he'd been struck by lightning, His hand came up to his cheek where the teacher had touched him ever so briefly.

In the next moment the crowd began dispersing. Ray heard Miss Cassini yelling at the students who were eager to get out of her sight. Ray decided to go over to her. She knelt beside Marco, checking for his pulse and then lifting one of his eyelids. A shudder went through her and she looked up, a worried expression on her face. She spotted Ray standing next to her. "Raimondo, please tell Mr. Mandolini to call for Dr. Vaselli." When she registered the shocked look on the boy's face she added. "He'll be fine, Raimondo. I think it's a light concussion. He has quite a lump on his head, but his pulse is steady. Now go!" And Ray ran to the teacher's office. He delivered his message to the group of teachers who still didn't come out of the office. Ray had the impression that they looked like the pet dogs of Mrs. Bertoldi when Mr. Bertoldi yelled at them in a rage, because he'd tripped over them again.

But he refused to bother himself any further with them. He raced off to the yard again, joining Miss Cassini who still held Marco's wrist in her left hand. She smiled up at Raimondo: "Thanks for getting me. Can you tell me what happened exactly?" Ray thought only for a second. He wouldn't lie. Not because he feared the revenge of Frankie Zuko, but he just couldn't stand to be responsible for injustice, no matter if Frankie deserved it or not. "It was an accident. Marco and Frankie quarrelled over the game. Marco tripped and bumped his head."

Miss Cassini eyed Ray with suspicion. Dio mio, she doesn't believe it. Her next words were a confirmation. "So that's all, Raimondo? I see. Well, if anything else comes back to your memory you didn't tell me, don't hesitate to tell me later, OK?" He sensed that his teacher thought he feared Frankie and would lie to save his neck. He shook his head to answer her silent reproach, but she interpreted his gesture differently. "No? That's fine with me, Raimondo. Just remember that you have to live with your conscience, not I." She turned away from him deliberately.

Ray backed off. There was nothing he could do anymore. He gathered his books and settled down again. But his mind wasn't able to concentrate anymore. He had difficulties to breathe properly. The door to the dark room had opened again, rather wide this time. Tears welt up in his throat. Ray fought as best he could, but he failed to keep those tears down. All he could do was not to sob loudly and brush away the tears from his face with angry gestures. He didn't know whom to hate more, Miss Cassini, who had just given up on him, or himself for being so stupid to stand up for Marco in the first place. Ray was so overwhelmed with that hate that he didn't see the doctor arrive, checking on Marco and then leaving with the boy in his arms, accompanied by Miss Cassini.

He did not know how long he'd been sitting there. The school bell announcing afternoon's classes brought him back to reality. He wiped away the tears one more time. The dark room was not entirely closed, but he would manage now. Before he could stand a shadow hovered over him. He looked up, still blinking from all the crying he'd done. The sun shone brightly and he couldn't make out the face of the person towering over him. Ray did not need to see the face. He knew it was Frankie.

Ray had to make sure to be face to face with him and stood up quickly, leaving his books on the ground. He stemmed his hands on his hips and eyed Frankie defiantly, but not daring to hold his gaze steady. Frankie did not say anything at first, just trying to lock eyes with Ray. Frankie's friends were behind him, but neither Frankie nor Ray acknowledged them being there at all. After some time Ray gave up evading Frankie's gaze. Better to get over with it. "What?"

Frankie gave him a small confident smile. "Ray, I'd like to have you on my team." Just that. Nothing more. Nothing less. Ray was stunned. He knew, of course, that Frankie wasn't only speaking of basketball, maybe he did not speak of basketball at all. He had never seen Ray play outside classes and in gym class Ray failed whenever he had to prove his abilities, as usually. So he had to think that Ray was a miserable player and having him on team would not benefit Frankie in the slightest. Although his wish to play with Frankie seemed to have come true, he feared the real reason behind the boy's offer. And Ray knew only one way to fight that fear, even if he knew that what he was real stupid.

With a sigh Ray let his hands dangle at his sides, slumping his shoulders a little forward. His voice showed a strained patience. "Frankie, Frankie, I'll already toldya what I think of ya! Ain't ya never listenin' at all?" Next thing he knew was the impact Frankie's fist made, connecting with his jaw. Ray stumbled back until his back hit the wall behind him. Carefully he touched his jaw, finding it all in place, but throbbing painfully. Tears stung in his eyes, but this time he didn't cry. It was as if Frankie's hit had closed the door to the dark room.

"That should teach you a lesson, Vecchio. I'm not done with you. You are enemy and you better look out." With that he turned and his friends followed immediately. Ray kept standing there for a moment. Then realisation hit him. Great, his tactics to make everyone around him thinking that he didn't exist at all just had started to work. This new attitude even had saved him from his father for three or four times. Thanks to his stupidity he was off worse than at the beginning. Frankie would do to him at school what his father did to him at home. Ray wished he'd be dead. Slowly he picked up his books and got into the building. He was in a kind of trance for the rest of the school day.

When school was out, he snatched up his books and raced from the building. He made his way back home in record time. His luck held, his father was out of the house, playing pool at Finelli's. He dreaded to face his mother, but she just sighed at the sight of his face. She tended his jaw, helped him change and put away his shirt to mend it later on. She gave him his an extra large portion of pasta and sent him to bed after he'd eaten without any further comment. He wished she would have held him tight for only a second, but maybe she feared that his bad luck would spill over to her as well.

Sleep escaped Ray for a long time. He was thankful that he had a room on his own. He wouldn't have stood to face his sisters. Finally the day's events took his toll on him and he fell into a deep sleep, and when he woke at the shrill sound of his alarm clock he could not remember if he had dreamed at all.

Ray sat up and the memories came back to him. So there was nothing anymore to keep him going. His life was a mess. He feared to stay at home, his father would beat the life out of him. And going to school meant to face Frankie Zuko, and he feared that maybe even more. At least he had some experience with his father's rage, he knew how to avoid the worst hits by now. Frankie might have some new ideas.

His mother came up to wake him, thinking he had overslept. Without knocking - nobody knocked in the Vecchio home - she entered Ray's room, waiting for a second for him to acknowledge her presence. He could not avoid her forever, so he raised his eyes finally. It was then he discovered that he was crying uncontrollably. Since the T-shirt he wore in bed during the summer months was already quite wet, he must have been crying for some time by now. His mother was at his side in an instant, gathering him in a tight hug. He sobbed loudly, unable to speak a single word.

"Shhh, Raimondo, you'll be safe with me. Don't fear anything. Mama is here. Mama is with you, bambino." Her voice sounded strangled. She must be crying, too. Ray felt comforted against his will. What could his mother do for him? There was no way she could help him ever. He pulled back, brushing away his tears with the back of his right hand. "I'm okay, Mama. I have to dress now, or I'll be late for school."

"Raimondo, tell me what happened," she demanded, holding him by both hands, searching for his eyes. He met his mother's serious look. "Oh, nothin' really, Mama. I had a little run-in when we played basketball." That - he told himself - wasn't exactly a lie. Somehow she must have sensed that he would say no more. "And you're up to going to school, you think, caro?"

Ray refused to take the unspoken offer. "Yeah, I'll better go..." After a small pause he asked carefully. "Is... is Pop awake?" She shook her head, "No, he's still sleeping. Why don't you dress now and I'll prepare breakfast for you? How does cinnamon toast sound to you?"

Ray blinked away some unspilled tears and got out with an effort. "That'll be fine, Mama. How about some hot chocolate?" His mother raised her eyebrows. "Hot chocolate, Raimondo? Don't you think it's a bit warm for that?" Ray shot her a pleading look and she nodded. "Hot chocolate it is!" In the next moment she was gone.

What he needed was a plan, a real good plan. He didn't know when or how Frankie wanted to pay him back. But he had to be sure to avoid him as long as he could. Ray decided it would be a good start if he was just in time, or even a little late for school. Punctuality was a big item in school and Ray hoped Frankie would not risk his record just for his - Ray's - sake by coming late into class himself. And his own record - there wasn't much he could make up with being punctual. And on his way back home he had to be as fast as he could. That left the breaks. Ray thought he could force the teachers to keep him inside by playing some pranks on them. That might bring the danger of some beating from his father, but he could deal with one enemy at a time. Or so he hoped. He thanked God that Miss Cassini refused to use beatings as punishment. That would have just made his day, to escape Frankie and in consequence being beaten by his teachers. Ray had a hard time to keep the door to the dark room closed.

So Ray took his time going to school. He had finished his breakfast and his mother's splendid cooking had lifted his spirits a little. He strolled along the streets. It was only a five minutes walk and it was quite an effort to walk really slow. But he managed to be five minutes late. Miss Cassini was furious, told him that he was to stay inside during the breaks, to do some studies, while the others were free to play basketball or baseball. Ray tried hard not to grin at the verdict.

***

After three days Miss Cassini became suspicious. She tried to talk to him during the first break. "Raimondo, what is it with you? If you're not punctual I will have to talk to your father." Ray heard a silent plea behind her words. She did not want to tell his father. Ray remembered his father's rage a few weeks ago. So he wasn't sure if Miss Cassini was concerned for herself or for him. He thought it worth a try.

"Miss Cassini, it's kinda of hard for me to be in school on time. Maybe it can stay like it is. I can make up the time I lose in the breaks. I don't like to play basketball with Frankie." Ray stressed every word of his last remark. Miss Cassini looked at him in astonishment, a question forming on her lips. But she bit it back, thinking for a few minutes. Finally she said, "Maybe you're right, Raimondo. I take it, that basketball can be a rather dangerous game sometimes." She smiled at him. Ray nearly jumped with joy. She'd understood, finally. And she would help him. "Grazie, Miss Cassini." She nodded, still smiling. He turned to sit down at his desk again.

"Raimondo?" He turned to face her. "Please, no more pranks in this classroom?" It was more a statement than a question. Ray answered her with the first real smile he managed in weeks. "No, Miss Cassini, no more pranks." He still felt guilty about the frog he'd put into her bag the day before.

The next day Marco returned to school. He came with his father in the middle of the morning. When they entered Miss Cassini stood up to greet them and they spoke a few words together. Ray couldn't understand anything of it, although he tried to. As did the whole class. Miss Cassini shook Mr. Mitrani's hand and Marco's father left, giving his son a clap on his back. Marco smiled, but the smile vanished when Miss Cassini took his hand and turned him to face the class.

"Boys, please give Marco a welcome back. The doctor said he is well enough to join us now." Some students murmured a welcome, Ray among them. Miss Cassini hesitated for a moment, but then went on. "Bruno, would you change your place with Marco? I'd like him to sit beside Raimondo. He would be a great help for Raimondo, don't you think Marco?" Although she addressed Marco her eyes were intent on the class before her. And her expression made clear that there was more to this change than what her words had implied. Ray should have been embarrassed that his problems in school were discussed before the whole class. But he sensed Miss Cassini's concern for Marco and maybe even for himself behind her actions and decided to be thankful.

Bruno didn't mind at all. It meant to be nearer his hero, since Marco had inhabited the place beside Frankie Zuko. Ray eyed Frankie curiously, but could not make out the slightest reaction. He was a tough one, he had to give him that. Whenever he saw Frankie with that stoic expression, he asked himself how he could have ever thought of Frankie's face being that of an angel.

After Bruno had gathered his things Marco came over and settled on the seat next to Ray. The boy gave him a slight smile, and Ray responded in kind. He had been relieved when he'd seen Marco enter, being OK after all. Maybe he had been right after all, helping Marco against Frankie. Surely it was good to see him now. Miss Cassini went on with her explanations. Ray forced his mind back on class. There would be enough time for him and Marco to talk, later.

When the bell announced the break most boys were out of the room in a flash. Ray kept to his seat and Marco did likewise. Miss Cassini nodded to them and left the room as well. Both boys followed her with their eyes, then they looked at each other. Ray found his voice first. "Welcome back, Marco. Are ya all right?" Marco shook his head violently and grinned. "See, no more dizziness." He laughed at Ray's stunned expression. "Don't worry. The doc says I'm good as new."

Ray laughed, relieved. Then he became serious. "So why don't ya go out, playing basketball with Frankie? Ya sure missed it, didn't ya?" He got no response. Marco's dark brown eyes locked with his green ones. After what seemed an eternity, Marco said, "That's over, Ray. I won't play basketball anymore." He paused for a moment. "... with Frankie, that is. Oh God, I can't keep my hands off the ball." Their was a sparkle of passion in his eyes, Ray noted.

"Maybe we could play? After school, that is. I have ta stay in class during the breaks." Marco threw him a questioning glance. "Ya see, I'm kinda slow in the mornings, so I have ta make up for it in the breaks." Ray hesitated for a moment, but the pressure in him was too great. He told Marco about his problems with Frankie. He would learn of it soon enough. Better Ray told him than anybody else.

Marco was shocked. "Ray, I never thought... Listen. My Papa told me I don't have ta fear Frankie. He talked to Frankie's father, ya know they are doing some business together, so he knows him kinda well. So Frankie ain't be trying anything with me. Ya know, I could ask Papa if you could talk to Frankie's father about you..."

Now it was Ray's turn to be shocked. "No, no, Marco, please don't. I ain't wanna have that. If my pop hears about this... he'll have my hide..." Too late he stopped. He never told anyone outside his family that his father was beating him. Now Marco knew. And somehow that thought was comforting to Ray. Marco had paled at Ray's words. He simply took Ray's hand in his own. "I understand. See, I won't tell 'im, never ever, if you won't have it. But we can go over to my place, after school, have a few shots..." Ray nodded, hardly trying not to cry again.

"And Ray, thanks for standing up for me. I ain't forgetting that..." Ray threw him a questioning glance. "Miss Cassini told me what you did." He pressed Ray's hand again. Ray heard the door to the room shut with a loud bang. And he knew that as long as he was with Marco it won't open so easily again.

***

Ray thought with pride of his best friend. In the last years they had been inseparable. The learned together for school, mostly at the Mitrani house, sometimes in the library. Marco was a brilliant student and he gave Ray the security to trust into his own abilities. Ray calmed down and he was able to pass his tests fairly well. He wasn't top of the class, but good average. Despite all of Marco's efforts Ray was still holding back. It was good enough for Ray, though, and he didn't mind to be second after Marco. He adored his friend because Marco showed openly his friendship for him. And Marco's father seemed to have enough influence to keep Frankie at bay.

Marco and Ray seemed to play basketball in every spare second. During the last years Ray had lost every ounce of puppy fat, growing tall and lanky. Thanks to all the exercise he and Marco took he didn't lose his abilities in his favourite sport. There were times when he had difficulties to manage his long limbs appropriately but both he and Marco became really good players. That showed in gym class. Since they always ended up in the team opposing Frankie, there were memorable matches between two very good teams. And they even managed a kind of truce with Frankie's group to team up when they played together in the school team.

Nonetheless the rivalry between Marco and Frankie about who was the best player had been a constant in all those years. Ray was convinced that Marco was slightly in the lead now and he wanted to show it to the whole class. That was the plan he was about to set in motion. He planned to challenge Frankie to play against Marco. Such a challenge Frankie would not been able to turn down. Ray even planned to have some betting over the outcome. Ever short on cash the share he would get out of it would be a welcomed side-effect of the match.

Ray strolled over to the Zuko house, enjoying every minute of his walk. He was confident that Marco would win and that would give him a great satisfaction. Ray couldn't explain it, but he was fascinated by Frankie. Ray knew by now what his father was doing, and that fascinated him even more. It was kind of a dance with the devil when he had "dealings" with Frankie. Marco tried to hold back his friend as best as he could. But sometimes Ray was not to be stopped. Ray himself thought those times being the best of his life. He never felt more alive as when he confronted Frankie Zuko. It even helped him dealing with his father. His old man still beat him on a regular basis, but Ray was able to endure everything as long as he knew that he could stand his ground against Frankie Zuko. Sometimes Ray even thought that he should thank Frankie for it.

He found Frankie and Bruno and some other guys behind the impressive Zuko villa. From time to time Ray wondered how it would be to live in such a house. He had never been inside, and probably he never would be. He shrugged and dismissed that thought. Nothing to worry about. For a moment he just stood there, eyeing Frankie and friends sunbathing on the extensive lawn, sipping on soft drinks and eating something that looked like biscotti. Ray felt the warm sun on his face, arms and legs, already dark tanned from being outside all the time in the last weeks. That was going to be real good.

In the next moment he nearly jumped, as a little girl shrieked at the top of her voice: "Frankie, Ray's here." He turned and saw Irene, Frankie's little sister. He smiled at her with a slightly pained expression. "Dio mio, Irene, ya frightened the shit outa me. What had you done, if I dropped dead before ya eyes?" The girl giggled and ran off into the house. Ray turned round to face Frankie, making his way towards him.

"Ray, Ray, Ray!" It was obvious that Frankie imitated his father's behaviour towards his subordinates. "Just what are you doing here on Zuko ground? Don't you fear to get yourself... killed?" Ray gave him his most charming smile. "Frankie, Frankie, Frankie! Your little sister tried just that a minute ago. If I survived that, what do I have to fear?" Ray copied Frankie diction with accuracy.

Frankie's amiable smile stopped. "What is it, Vecchio? And where is your shadow?" Ray congratulated himself. Everything was going according to plan. "Shadow, Frankie? I guess it's right behind me." He turned slightly. "Yes, it's still there. Who would have thought it?"

"No more of that, Vecchio. Now, what are you doing here? Surely you don't expect me to offer you a drink?" Ray sensed Frankie's nervousness. The mobster's son was eager to be rid of him again. But Ray wasn't going to be soft on him. "That would be a real gesture of Italian hospitality." When he saw the anger in Frankie's eyes he held up his hands in a gesture of total innocence. "Hey, Frankie, it's me. You know that I won't do anything that offends you." He stood beside Frankie, laying his arm around the other one's shoulders. Frankie was too stunned to pull back.

"I've got a deal for ya, Frankie. It's real hot, ya like it, promise. Maybe we can talk it through..." Frankie finally managed to get Ray's arm off his shoulders. "There's nothing you can offer me I'm interested in. Nothing." Ray put his hands in the pockets of his shorts, still smiling. "Don't be so rash, Frankie. Let me tell you about it, pleaasse." He gave Frankie a round-eyed stare.

Frankie lost his patience, finally. "Spit it out, Vecchio. I give you two minutes and then you'll leave. If you want to or..." Frankie looked at his friends with a humourless smile. "or if you do not want to." His friends snickered obediently. Ray felt his stomach turn. But he had to go on with his plan. He straightened his back and stopped smiling.

"OK, here's the deal. You can show the whole class that you are a better player than Marco. Marco has agreed to meet your challenge tonight. We meet on the school yard at 7 o'clock sharp." Ray saw Frankie swallow with difficulty.

"Now, what is it? You coming?" Ray knew exactly the way he had put it that Frankie could not - and would not - refuse. And he was not disappointed. Frankie had a reputation to lose here, in front of his friends. "Of course I'll be there. I waited a long time for the opportunity to show Marco where his limits are." Ray had to admit that Frankie had style. But he had all he had wished for. Now there were still three hours before seven, enough time to inform the rest of the class and some other people who might be interested. The more the merrier, and Ray hoped to make a few bucks out of the betting.

"See ya then, Frankie. Perhaps you can use the next hours to do a little practice? Anyway, that's not my business. Ciao." Then he turned and left the agitated murmurs behind him. It was not before he was out of sight, that he allowed himself to relax and his shoulders slumped slightly forward. But a thrilling sensation filled his mind and after a few seconds he straightened his back again and held his head high up.

A few hours later everything was prepared for the challenge. Marco and Frankie were sitting on benches in opposite corners of the schoolyard, surrounded by their friends. Needless to say that Frankie's group was considerably larger. It still paid to humour him. Ray was busy collecting the bets, and everything ran smoothly. It was a perfect evening for a game and there were even some of the older students who took an interest in the match.

When Ray was ready he beckoned Marco and Frankie under the basket. One of the older students was standing next to him. "Carlo will be the ref. You OK with that?" Both boys nodded, not saying anything. They already concentrated on the task lying ahead of them. "Fine. Carlo, they're all yours now." He picked up the basketball lying between his feet - it was his own, the gift from his uncle, now only used for special occasions - and passed it over to Carlo.

The older boy gave both players a sign, then tossed the ball high up into the sky and stepped back. Frankie and Marco jumped to gain possession of the ball. Marco had the better timing and snatched it a second before Frankie was able to get hold of it. In a flash he started an attack on the basket, succeeding with an elegant shot. Frankie was too late several seconds. Now it was his turn. He dribbled for some time, than trying an attack. Marco tried to block, but Frankie changed the direction of his dribbling and placed the ball into the basket securely.

The game went on and on, Frankie and Marco seemed to be equally matched. It was still a draw, either player leading only by one point each time they changed their positions. Now Marco was in the lead again - by one point. If he could block Frankie's next attack and succeed with another shot he would be the victor.

Both of them were covered with sweat, breathing heavily. Frankie's hold of the ball nearly slipped, in the last moment he broke off his attack and managed to gain back his control over the ball. Marco waited for the next attack. He was in the lead, he was eager to use this advantage. Again Frankie tried an attack. He deliberately tried to shove Marco aside with the elbow of his free arm. But Marco had expected Frankie's move. Instead of blocking him he stepped aside and Frankie lost nearly his balance. Marco snatched the ball from Frankie's slippery fingers and started towards the basket himself. Frankie regained his balance in a fraction of a second, going after Marco, trying to hold him back by his shirt. Marco used his free hand to keep Frankie at bay and shot at the basket with just using one hand. It was an incredible shot and Ray whooped in delight as Marco made the final point.

In the next moment he was at his friend's side, pulled him into a tight hug, ignoring all the sweat and grim Marco was covered with. Ray pulled back and lifted up Marco's right arm high to make it clear to all who was the winner of the day. Marco smiled at him, exhausted, but happy all the same. "We both won, Ray," he whispered warmly. That was rewarded by another hug of his friend.

Suddenly Ray was grabbed from behind. He staggered back, landing on his behind rather hard. Frankie was confronting Marco now. And he was yelling at the top of his voice. It was a horrible screaming in Ray's ears and he couldn't even make out the words. Carlo, who had picked up the ball, came over and tried to calm Frankie down. Frankie snatched the ball from Carlo, lashing out at the older boy. Carlo was shocked and stepped back. Ray couldn't believe what happened next. Frankie ran into Marco full force, the ball firm in his hand. Marco lost his footing, falling flat on his back. The next moment Frankie was sitting on his chest. With the basketball he smashed Marco's face repeatedly. Again and again. Each time the back of Marco's head bumped on the concrete beneath him. Ray felt like he'd turned to stone. He didn't hear anything around him, didn't see the boys running from the yard, Carlo among them. He just saw Frankie bashing Marco with the ball. His ball. Again and again. Ray couldn't move, he couldn't speak, he couldn't even breathe. His stare focused on the memory Marco's beautiful dark eyes, encouraging him when he had to face another test. Ray began to choke. The door... the door opened. The dark room loomed before him, blocking all other sights, whether real or imagined ones. Ray didn't know if he went into the darkness or if the darkness came to him. Suddenly he was inside it and the door closed behind him with a loud thud.

The End

of this story