He pinned Davey’s shoulders under his knees and took him by the chin with one hand. “You can’t do this, Danny,” he said, looking into his hazel eyes, which had gone green as they did when he was angry.
“Do what?”
“Spy on me. Try to hurt me. Try to hurt my friends. Tease me all the time. You can’t do it, okay?”
“I’ll stab you in your sleep, Andy. I’ll break your fingers with a brick. I’ll poke your eyes out with a fork.” He was fizzling like a baking-soda volcano, saliva slicking his cheeks and nostrils and chin, his eyes rolling.
Alan felt helplessness settle on him, weighing down his limbs. How could he let him go? What else could he do? Was he going to have to sit on Davey’s shoulders until they were both old men?
“Please, Davey. I’m sorry about what I said. I just can’t bring her home, you understand,” he said.
“Pervert. She’s a slut and you’re a pervert. I’ll tear her titties off.”
“Don’t, Danny, please. Stop, okay?”
Darren bared his teeth and growled, jerking his head forward and snapping at Alan’s crotch, heedless of the painful thuds his head made when it hit the ground after each lunge.
Alan waited to see if he would tire himself out, but when it was clear that he would not tire, Alan waited for his head to thud to the ground and then, abruptly, he popped him in the chin, leapt off of him turned him on his belly, and wrenched him to his knees, twisting one arm behind his back and pulling his head back by the hair. He brought Davey to his feet, under his control, before he’d recovered from the punch.