Status: Hiatus
Out Like a Cigarette
Pointless
Two Months Earlier
“What!?” I ask my mom, looking at her as though she were insane. She may very well be.
“You heard me. We. Are. Moving.” She told me, again. This time, though, she was enunciating each word as separately as a run of staccato notes in a piece of music.
“Especially after that stunt you pulled three days ago. Really. Blowing up ten pounds of firecrackers –at once I might add- in a flammable area that caught fire and damaged the building next to it.” At that I turn sharply away and leave the house out the kitchen door. She didn’t chase or call after me, she never does.
I find the familiar route to Jake’s place easily, as though it were inscribed into my very DNA. I enter without knocking, or calling out. His parents were gone, as usual, so I, as was the norm, let myself in with e key they gave me. Going up to Jake’s room I see he is still asleep, drool almost pouring out of his mouth. Disgusting.
“Wake up.” I say sharply in his ear, startling him into consciousness.
“Mornin’ t’you, too.” He said in a groggy voice. “Wha’s up your assh?”
“Mother and Father are having us move. Here is your spare key.” I tell him, holding it out. At this news he becomes much more awake. I can see the sleepy haze leaving his clear, bright- almost glowing- blue eyes. Sitting up I see his shaggy, dark brown that was almost black was tangled, messy, how it looked even after he brushed it. A sight I was so used to after fifteen years of friendship that it didn’t even faze me.
People always said we would end up falling in love, we had been best friends our entire lives, knew each other inside and out, every look, gesture or slight change noticeable, as well as what it meant. We went to preschool, kindergarten, elementary, middle and now almost all our high school careers together. But now it seems as though we won’t be able to spend our senior year together. It was going to be our year, we ruled our high school. We were at the top. Every class possible we were going to have together, something made sure of by taking the classes that had only one period in which it was taught due to it being one people didn’t generally take. We almost lived together; we were planning on attending the same college. We even had the same GPA.
Despite all that we were complete opposites. He is optimistic, sociable, hyper, the good kid. I, on the other hand, am a realist, hostile to most people, calm, and quite a bad influence. But, as the saying goes, opposites attract.
“Don’t worry about it, keep your key. It is your key, after all. Not mine, not my mom’s, not the spare we give to people, but yours. You can always come back here if something happens, or if you are visiting, or if you decide you are in love with me, or if you get kicked out or-“
“What was that last one before getting kicked out?” I ask, amused.
“If you’re visiting?” He asks in reply.
“No, after that.”
“Oh, if you decide you are, in fact, in love with me. We all know it’s true, you are just too stubborn to admit it.” He tells me, confidence filling his voice. Damn cocky bastard.
“I see. Well, not going to happen, we all also know that much. So, are you sure you want me to keep the key? Will your parents mind that a delinquent has one?” I ask with sarcasm filling the words. His parents didn’t believe that I did all the stuff I have been charged for, some of it they know I did, other stuff they are still offering to pay for the appeal and lawyer. I love them.
“Ha, yeah, they will, that way they know you can use us as a hide-out while getting chased by the FBI again.”
“That was a one-time thing.”
“Yeah, alright. So, where are you moving?” He asks, all traces of teasing and jokes quickly leaving his eyes and voice.
“Next town over.”
“Hickville?”
“Yeah, except apparently the citizens aren’t hicks. Just small town people. Weird, our whole lives have been a lie.” Really, though, they weren’t. Just, as my mother said, quaint. So I am moving to a small town where all the residents know each other, where nothing bad ever happens, where the most exciting thing to do on a Friday is go watch movies at the drive in theatre. Yeah. Drive in. I already hate it.
I mean, really, why did we have to move? The city police knew me by name now, they even try to let me get away with as much as they can, charging me only if it is highly illegal. The small townies probably won’t even know the difference between misdemeanor and felony. And they will be sure to charge me with everything possible. Plus, my patrol officer was here in the city, what, are we going to drive the three hours to get here every week for my appointments? I don’t want a new PO, Ms. Miller has been with me since the beginning. No way am I going to put up with a new one who knows nothing at all. Moving is just going to cause trouble and problems, no matter if it is to a small town where ‘nothing can go wrong.’
“I don’t believe you. When’re you guys going?” He asks, a small amount of fear entering his voice. Why was he scared? With all I’ve dragged him into doing I’d have thought nothing could ever scare him again. It is seriously a surprise that he doesn’t have a criminal record yet.
“Tomorrow. Why?”
“I’ll help you guys pack up today and move tomorrow. And stay as long as possible to ‘settle in’.” He tells me, using air quotes and everything.
“Thank you, but you don’t have to.” I tell him, knowing fully that the good-bye will be messy and if we hold it off it will just be harder.
“I know, and I know why you don’t want me to, but no way in hell am I going to give you up sooner than absolutely necessary. I love you too much to do that.” He says, emotion and sadness colouring his words.
“I… I love you, too. And okay, get dressed so we can get breakfast and go start packing up.” I tell him, giving him a rare hug. This shit isn’t my thing. All this emotional crap is pointless, it won’t help anything. But, hey, if he does it then that must mean it is a desperate time. He shows almost as little love and care as I do.
He gets up, blinding me with his pure whiteness, pulls on a shirt and jeans before heading to the bathroom to brush his teeth and attempt to control the birds nest he calls hair. I look around his room, taking in all the familiar details from the messy floor to the splatter painted walls we did when he was 11 and I was 10. The messy little chest I kept my junk in for when I ended up crashing here, the piles of books and movies we’ve collected over the years. This was my real home, moving isn’t going to mean anything except it’ll be harder for me to get here where everything is as it should be. Where I don’t have to do anything illegal. Where I am safe.
“Ready?” Jake asks, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“Yeah. Let’s go.” I say, brushing past him out of the room, turning my back on my home.
We head out to IHOP and order this huge meal that we split and then go for my house. No one there is home, so it is quiet as we grab some of the boxes in the kitchen and go up to my room to pack up, both of us unable to breathe right, let alone speak.
“How do you wanna do this?” Jake asks me, setting the boxes he grabbed on the floor in front of the door.
“Uh, I’ll put all clothes in one box and you put other shit in other boxes. Organize as you see fit, it’s all going to the same place and will all get put away there.” I tell him, heading for my dresser of clothes.
“Okay.”
At that we fall into silence and pack my room away.
“What were you thinking, or were you thinking at all?” demands my father, furious. Steve Winland was a harsh, cold hearted man. “You could have seriously hurt someone, why did you do it? You know, this is exactly why we are leaving. You don’t belong here; you don’t deserve the countless chances you are rewarded for being underage. You are careless, only ever thinking of yourself when you do these little stunts. Why? Why do we bother getting you lawyers or putting up with you? We should just leave you to the state and let them do as they please with you.”
I remain silent as he continues to rant about how stupid I am, how I disappoint him and my mother, how I am the world’s biggest fuck up. The normal rant I get whenever I commit a crime.
What was it this time?
Arson, again, and grand theft larceny. Nothing new.
I get up, cutting the man off in the middle of some sentence and go to the car. My PO and parents already handled all the arrangements. I am to be under house arrest for three weeks once we move, only able to go to school, when I start, and home. Nowhere else. I get those fashionable tracking anklets and everything. And I get one year in juvie if I break the rules again. Once the house arrest is over I am to do 150 hours of community service, as well as have a curfew of 11:30 pm every night. Lucky it’s late, probably because out in the little town nothing happens past 8:00 pm or something.
We go home and I fall into a restless sleep filled with horrors and nightmares.
“What!?” I ask my mom, looking at her as though she were insane. She may very well be.
“You heard me. We. Are. Moving.” She told me, again. This time, though, she was enunciating each word as separately as a run of staccato notes in a piece of music.
“Especially after that stunt you pulled three days ago. Really. Blowing up ten pounds of firecrackers –at once I might add- in a flammable area that caught fire and damaged the building next to it.” At that I turn sharply away and leave the house out the kitchen door. She didn’t chase or call after me, she never does.
I find the familiar route to Jake’s place easily, as though it were inscribed into my very DNA. I enter without knocking, or calling out. His parents were gone, as usual, so I, as was the norm, let myself in with e key they gave me. Going up to Jake’s room I see he is still asleep, drool almost pouring out of his mouth. Disgusting.
“Wake up.” I say sharply in his ear, startling him into consciousness.
“Mornin’ t’you, too.” He said in a groggy voice. “Wha’s up your assh?”
“Mother and Father are having us move. Here is your spare key.” I tell him, holding it out. At this news he becomes much more awake. I can see the sleepy haze leaving his clear, bright- almost glowing- blue eyes. Sitting up I see his shaggy, dark brown that was almost black was tangled, messy, how it looked even after he brushed it. A sight I was so used to after fifteen years of friendship that it didn’t even faze me.
People always said we would end up falling in love, we had been best friends our entire lives, knew each other inside and out, every look, gesture or slight change noticeable, as well as what it meant. We went to preschool, kindergarten, elementary, middle and now almost all our high school careers together. But now it seems as though we won’t be able to spend our senior year together. It was going to be our year, we ruled our high school. We were at the top. Every class possible we were going to have together, something made sure of by taking the classes that had only one period in which it was taught due to it being one people didn’t generally take. We almost lived together; we were planning on attending the same college. We even had the same GPA.
Despite all that we were complete opposites. He is optimistic, sociable, hyper, the good kid. I, on the other hand, am a realist, hostile to most people, calm, and quite a bad influence. But, as the saying goes, opposites attract.
“Don’t worry about it, keep your key. It is your key, after all. Not mine, not my mom’s, not the spare we give to people, but yours. You can always come back here if something happens, or if you are visiting, or if you decide you are in love with me, or if you get kicked out or-“
“What was that last one before getting kicked out?” I ask, amused.
“If you’re visiting?” He asks in reply.
“No, after that.”
“Oh, if you decide you are, in fact, in love with me. We all know it’s true, you are just too stubborn to admit it.” He tells me, confidence filling his voice. Damn cocky bastard.
“I see. Well, not going to happen, we all also know that much. So, are you sure you want me to keep the key? Will your parents mind that a delinquent has one?” I ask with sarcasm filling the words. His parents didn’t believe that I did all the stuff I have been charged for, some of it they know I did, other stuff they are still offering to pay for the appeal and lawyer. I love them.
“Ha, yeah, they will, that way they know you can use us as a hide-out while getting chased by the FBI again.”
“That was a one-time thing.”
“Yeah, alright. So, where are you moving?” He asks, all traces of teasing and jokes quickly leaving his eyes and voice.
“Next town over.”
“Hickville?”
“Yeah, except apparently the citizens aren’t hicks. Just small town people. Weird, our whole lives have been a lie.” Really, though, they weren’t. Just, as my mother said, quaint. So I am moving to a small town where all the residents know each other, where nothing bad ever happens, where the most exciting thing to do on a Friday is go watch movies at the drive in theatre. Yeah. Drive in. I already hate it.
I mean, really, why did we have to move? The city police knew me by name now, they even try to let me get away with as much as they can, charging me only if it is highly illegal. The small townies probably won’t even know the difference between misdemeanor and felony. And they will be sure to charge me with everything possible. Plus, my patrol officer was here in the city, what, are we going to drive the three hours to get here every week for my appointments? I don’t want a new PO, Ms. Miller has been with me since the beginning. No way am I going to put up with a new one who knows nothing at all. Moving is just going to cause trouble and problems, no matter if it is to a small town where ‘nothing can go wrong.’
“I don’t believe you. When’re you guys going?” He asks, a small amount of fear entering his voice. Why was he scared? With all I’ve dragged him into doing I’d have thought nothing could ever scare him again. It is seriously a surprise that he doesn’t have a criminal record yet.
“Tomorrow. Why?”
“I’ll help you guys pack up today and move tomorrow. And stay as long as possible to ‘settle in’.” He tells me, using air quotes and everything.
“Thank you, but you don’t have to.” I tell him, knowing fully that the good-bye will be messy and if we hold it off it will just be harder.
“I know, and I know why you don’t want me to, but no way in hell am I going to give you up sooner than absolutely necessary. I love you too much to do that.” He says, emotion and sadness colouring his words.
“I… I love you, too. And okay, get dressed so we can get breakfast and go start packing up.” I tell him, giving him a rare hug. This shit isn’t my thing. All this emotional crap is pointless, it won’t help anything. But, hey, if he does it then that must mean it is a desperate time. He shows almost as little love and care as I do.
He gets up, blinding me with his pure whiteness, pulls on a shirt and jeans before heading to the bathroom to brush his teeth and attempt to control the birds nest he calls hair. I look around his room, taking in all the familiar details from the messy floor to the splatter painted walls we did when he was 11 and I was 10. The messy little chest I kept my junk in for when I ended up crashing here, the piles of books and movies we’ve collected over the years. This was my real home, moving isn’t going to mean anything except it’ll be harder for me to get here where everything is as it should be. Where I don’t have to do anything illegal. Where I am safe.
“Ready?” Jake asks, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“Yeah. Let’s go.” I say, brushing past him out of the room, turning my back on my home.
We head out to IHOP and order this huge meal that we split and then go for my house. No one there is home, so it is quiet as we grab some of the boxes in the kitchen and go up to my room to pack up, both of us unable to breathe right, let alone speak.
“How do you wanna do this?” Jake asks me, setting the boxes he grabbed on the floor in front of the door.
“Uh, I’ll put all clothes in one box and you put other shit in other boxes. Organize as you see fit, it’s all going to the same place and will all get put away there.” I tell him, heading for my dresser of clothes.
“Okay.”
At that we fall into silence and pack my room away.
“What were you thinking, or were you thinking at all?” demands my father, furious. Steve Winland was a harsh, cold hearted man. “You could have seriously hurt someone, why did you do it? You know, this is exactly why we are leaving. You don’t belong here; you don’t deserve the countless chances you are rewarded for being underage. You are careless, only ever thinking of yourself when you do these little stunts. Why? Why do we bother getting you lawyers or putting up with you? We should just leave you to the state and let them do as they please with you.”
I remain silent as he continues to rant about how stupid I am, how I disappoint him and my mother, how I am the world’s biggest fuck up. The normal rant I get whenever I commit a crime.
What was it this time?
Arson, again, and grand theft larceny. Nothing new.
I get up, cutting the man off in the middle of some sentence and go to the car. My PO and parents already handled all the arrangements. I am to be under house arrest for three weeks once we move, only able to go to school, when I start, and home. Nowhere else. I get those fashionable tracking anklets and everything. And I get one year in juvie if I break the rules again. Once the house arrest is over I am to do 150 hours of community service, as well as have a curfew of 11:30 pm every night. Lucky it’s late, probably because out in the little town nothing happens past 8:00 pm or something.
We go home and I fall into a restless sleep filled with horrors and nightmares.
♠ ♠ ♠
Sorry the story is starting kind of slow, the next chapter or two will be more background of the main character and her new surroundings, but I'll try to add in fun stuff, too.