Second chance

For those of you who may be sentimentalists about what you'd do if you could live your life over again, here is the real lowdown about that....
By ROBERT HOSKINS
Illustrated by SUMMERS
The boy was twelve, and running for dear life. Behind him came the sounds of half a dozen pursuers, the faintly sticky slap of leather soles coming down on summer-hot blacktopping and the sharp explosions of breath let out and sucked back in quickly as out-of-condition bodies forced muscles angrily beyond normal limits of endurance.
There goes the little bastard now!
Don't let him get away!
A scant hundred yards separated pursued from pursuers. The boy stopped at the mouth of an alley, panic stealing logic as he glanced over his shoulders at the boys coming up quickly behind him. He darted into the alley, rounded a curve, and realized too late that he was in a dead-end. Boxes and trash were piled against the wall; a fire-escape beckoned invitingly just above. He scrabbled up the side of the pile, then realized his mistake as it began to shift beneath him. He leaped for the fire-escape ladder, his fingers brushing the lowest rung just as the pile collapsed, carrying him down and burying him.
Where the hell is he?
Hands started pulling at the pile, tearing away debris. The boy bit down on his lip, and closed his eyes against the inevitable.
Hey, here he is!
They grabbed him and pulled him out. A palm slapped across his cheek, forcing his eyes open.
Okay, you little sneak. What's the big idea? Why'd you rat to the Principal? He shook his head.