Status: I'm still working o it. You can read as I go along :3
Dying Young
Strike One: Just another Day
You know that feeling you get, when you’re dreaming, like you can’t run fast enough? Like you’re under water and your legs weigh a ton of bricks?
That’s how it was for me that one late September day. It was getting cold already – the painfully chilly wind bit at my skin and jabbed at me as I ran against its force. I didn’t care though, I just kept running. And no, not just for the hell of it either. I was running from something. Rather someone, more than one, a whole pack full.
I kept up a constant yammering scream in my mind as I pounded the pavement:
Christ, Christ, CHRIST!! Oh, Shit, oh hell…. Run. Run. RUN, Dammit!!
Kyle, who was running beside me, was screaming and hollering and stumbling.
“Quit your fuckin’ squawking, wouldja?!” I hissed at him as we rounded the corner.
“JADE, WHAT’RE WE GONNA DO!?” Kyle screeched in terror, sobbing like a baby.
“We’re going to try to lose ‘em so SHUT UP!” I commanded.
We slammed into a crowd of people then, like cutting into a concrete wall of shoppers and pedestrians - Painful. I got several smacks in the face and jabs in the gut by the odd person’s elbow or back, here and there. That was a good thing, though, because ‘the pack’ was gaining on us. We squeezed in between the countless bodies of the clueless town-square people.
I shoved my way through, not even bothering to apologize to those who’d gotten in my way. On the other side of the crowd, I saw Kyle who waved me over-
“Hey, Don! They’re over here!” I heard a Coop yell.
“Don’t just stand there! Get ‘em!”
Oh. Shit.
Three of the Coops, who’d been able to follow us through the crowd, slowly closed in on us.
Okay, so you’re probably wondering who ‘The Coops’ are.
Well, when you live in a city like mine; it’s always survival of the fittest. And how can we assure that we are the ‘fittest’?
There’s always strength in numbers.
I can name several gangs here in the Bronx, New York and our general area – and there’s probably even more than that. The three main ones I can bring to mind were: Us, The South Side Slashers, The Harlem Hell Hounds; deadly as anything. And then there was the gang from Cooperstown. Not as deadly, but them against just The Kid (that’s what we all called Kyle) and me – was the death sentence.
They had us cornered. There was nowhere else to run to.
“What now, Jade? What are we gonna do now?!” Kyle hissed to me, clearly going into hysterics.
“Didn’t I tell you to shut up?!” I screeched back.
We slowly backed up against the alley’s wall. It was dark, but I still saw a facet of light bounce off of one of the bigger Coop’s switchblade.
We were done for.
“This is the last time you fuck with us, you little punks.” The big Coop with the knife said.
“Yeah, now we is gonna fuck wit you!” The tiny, jittery Coop said - eye’s glinting madly at his buddy with the knife, grinning teeth coated with unhealthy spit.
I swear, the kids from our side sound so stupid – with their dumb faces and bad grammar. But if they were wielding weapons you had to take them seriously. Besides, it’s not like I was any better.
They approached us slowly – like a thick, choking cloud of smoke. So dense that it was almost solid. Sort of like the dry ice smoke they used in old horror movies – with the disturbing, cloying scent along with it.
Yeah, like I told you – I observe way too much. Even if I’m about to get my head kicked in and my guts splattered. I could be a movie director – that’s what I used to dream of by myself. Don’t those hot shots see everything from 50 different angles? That’s totally me.
As the Cooperstown thugs approached us I realized they were sort of like a pack of small feral dogs, ready and rabid but, wary and cautious, but why? Kyle and I were outnumbered, what did those goons have to fear?
It was because of our reputation. The South Side Slashers had one big contender. A force of Satan you’d have to be nuts to reckon with.
That one real contender would be James ‘Jimmy’ McCarthy.
Not so scary, right? Wrong.
Some called him Razor-James, The Blade of Death and, my personal favourite, The King of the Damned. He was your typical high school drop-out, drug dealing, kleptomaniac who scared the shit out of nearly everyone, even the Coops who were our attackers for the evening. And why? Rumor has it that he’d killed at least 5 people, purposely. Knifed them. That’s how we got the name The Slashers. Our big guy was a killer.
So why were kids like Kyle and I hanging around some guy who was an alleged murderer?
We were stupid and we couldn’t ignore two things that our scary, near-evil friend provided for us:
Strength in numbers and survival of the fittest.
I could never believe that he’d killed anyone – if he did then it was self defense. Especially since he hadn’t been jailed yet. We thought it was cool to have him on our side. It would make us intimidating. Something you had to be to get by back then.
I could see it on their faces as they slowly approached us. Will that crazy guy get us if we do anything to them? What if he just pops out of nowhere?
I didn’t blame them.
I guess he scared me too – hell, he scared everyone, right?
Of course I couldn’t say that to the others. But really. He was freakishly real and very distant. I wondered why he stuck up for us all the time. I wondered if one day he’d turn on us for kicks and we’d all get craved up.
He fascinated me.
He intimidated everyone else.
Good, right?
Well, here’s the catch:
He’d gone missing about a month back. No one knows where he went. His girlfriend was gone too – they’d gone off together, most likely. It was a Slasher secret. If word got out to our rivals we’d be dead. As long as they thought he’d pop up out of nowhere and stab them in the face – we were okay.
But Jimmy wasn’t there with us, so it was up to me to defend Kyle and me.
Damn-it-all-to-hell… why did the little brat have to go and bother them?
You know that feeling you get, when you’re dreaming, like you can’t run fast enough? Like you’re under water and your legs weigh a ton of bricks?
That’s how it was for me that one late September day. It was getting cold already – the painfully chilly wind bit at my skin and jabbed at me as I ran against its force. I didn’t care though, I just kept running. And no, not just for the hell of it either. I was running from something. Rather someone, more than one, a whole pack full.
I kept up a constant yammering scream in my mind as I pounded the pavement:
Christ, Christ, CHRIST!! Oh, Shit, oh hell…. Run. Run. RUN, Dammit!!
Kyle, who was running beside me, was screaming and hollering and stumbling.
“Quit your fuckin’ squawking, wouldja?!” I hissed at him as we rounded the corner.
“JADE, WHAT’RE WE GONNA DO!?” Kyle screeched in terror, sobbing like a baby.
“We’re going to try to lose ‘em so SHUT UP!” I commanded.
We slammed into a crowd of people then, like cutting into a concrete wall of shoppers and pedestrians - Painful. I got several smacks in the face and jabs in the gut by the odd person’s elbow or back, here and there. That was a good thing, though, because ‘the pack’ was gaining on us. We squeezed in between the countless bodies of the clueless town-square people.
I shoved my way through, not even bothering to apologize to those who’d gotten in my way. On the other side of the crowd, I saw Kyle who waved me over-
“Hey, Don! They’re over here!” I heard a Coop yell.
“Don’t just stand there! Get ‘em!”
Oh. Shit.
Three of the Coops, who’d been able to follow us through the crowd, slowly closed in on us.
Okay, so you’re probably wondering who ‘The Coops’ are.
Well, when you live in a city like mine; it’s always survival of the fittest. And how can we assure that we are the ‘fittest’?
There’s always strength in numbers.
I can name several gangs here in the Bronx, New York and our general area – and there’s probably even more than that. The three main ones I can bring to mind were: Us, The South Side Slashers, The Harlem Hell Hounds; deadly as anything. And then there was the gang from Cooperstown. Not as deadly, but them against just The Kid (that’s what we all called Kyle) and me – was the death sentence.
They had us cornered. There was nowhere else to run to.
“What now, Jade? What are we gonna do now?!” Kyle hissed to me, clearly going into hysterics.
“Didn’t I tell you to shut up?!” I screeched back.
We slowly backed up against the alley’s wall. It was dark, but I still saw a facet of light bounce off of one of the bigger Coop’s switchblade.
We were done for.
“This is the last time you fuck with us, you little punks.” The big Coop with the knife said.
“Yeah, now we is gonna fuck wit you!” The tiny, jittery Coop said - eye’s glinting madly at his buddy with the knife, grinning teeth coated with unhealthy spit.
I swear, the kids from our side sound so stupid – with their dumb faces and bad grammar. But if they were wielding weapons you had to take them seriously. Besides, it’s not like I was any better.
They approached us slowly – like a thick, choking cloud of smoke. So dense that it was almost solid. Sort of like the dry ice smoke they used in old horror movies – with the disturbing, cloying scent along with it.
Yeah, like I told you – I observe way too much. Even if I’m about to get my head kicked in and my guts splattered. I could be a movie director – that’s what I used to dream of by myself. Don’t those hot shots see everything from 50 different angles? That’s totally me.
As the Cooperstown thugs approached us I realized they were sort of like a pack of small feral dogs, ready and rabid but, wary and cautious, but why? Kyle and I were outnumbered, what did those goons have to fear?
It was because of our reputation. The South Side Slashers had one big contender. A force of Satan you’d have to be nuts to reckon with.
That one real contender would be James ‘Jimmy’ McCarthy.
Not so scary, right? Wrong.
Some called him Razor-James, The Blade of Death and, my personal favourite, The King of the Damned. He was your typical high school drop-out, drug dealing, kleptomaniac who scared the shit out of nearly everyone, even the Coops who were our attackers for the evening. And why? Rumor has it that he’d killed at least 5 people, purposely. Knifed them. That’s how we got the name The Slashers. Our big guy was a killer.
So why were kids like Kyle and I hanging around some guy who was an alleged murderer?
We were stupid and we couldn’t ignore two things that our scary, near-evil friend provided for us:
Strength in numbers and survival of the fittest.
I could never believe that he’d killed anyone – if he did then it was self defense. Especially since he hadn’t been jailed yet. We thought it was cool to have him on our side. It would make us intimidating. Something you had to be to get by back then.
I could see it on their faces as they slowly approached us. Will that crazy guy get us if we do anything to them? What if he just pops out of nowhere?
I didn’t blame them.
I guess he scared me too – hell, he scared everyone, right?
Of course I couldn’t say that to the others. But really. He was freakishly real and very distant. I wondered why he stuck up for us all the time. I wondered if one day he’d turn on us for kicks and we’d all get craved up.
He fascinated me.
He intimidated everyone else.
Good, right?
Well, here’s the catch:
He’d gone missing about a month back. No one knows where he went. His girlfriend was gone too – they’d gone off together, most likely. It was a Slasher secret. If word got out to our rivals we’d be dead. As long as they thought he’d pop up out of nowhere and stab them in the face – we were okay.
But Jimmy wasn’t there with us, so it was up to me to defend Kyle and me.
Damn-it-all-to-hell… why did the little brat have to go and bother them?
Some of our guys could get away with stunts like that, but that’s because they were older, and stronger, and wiser and faster. If you’re not a bull fighter don’t shoot the bull.
And now guess what? Yep. Ole! Ole! They’re charging right-the-fuck-at-us!
Before I go on to tell you about how well that went, I should probably tell you what exactly he did to tick them off, shouldn’t I?
Kyle was the like our pet. Our baby. I’m not exactly calling him the weakest link, or anything. (Even though he was) – But he was just automatically everyone’s kid brother.
He was just a scrap of a boy; hardly fourteen years old. With an unruly, poorly cut mop of golden hair falling in his face and bright, corn-flower blue eyes, he was short, skinny and very impressionable.
He tried desperately to be like us. He tried especially hard to be like Jimmy. He idolized him for his toughness and so that day and for that reason, he decided to slash a Coop’s tires for no reason in particular.
Slashed tires are no joke when you have to work your butt off just to afford them, but what’s worse? He started mouthing off to one of them, when he got caught, the little idiot.
The worst thing you can do is insult any dirty Bronxy’s momma. But a thug from Cooperstown?! Was he out of his mind?!
I wanted so badly to freeze everything then and there and cuss him out something awful. Slap the teeth out of him too. But I had other things to deal with…
“Hey, Baby,” The bald fat one, next to the one with the blade, said to me, “You give us your lil’ friend and I’ll save all the ‘fuckin’ wit’ for just you n’ me.” He offered with a wink.
I tried not to gag.
The Coops howled with laughter and their repulsive friend smiled at me.
Kyle gaped at him in horrific disbelief. The annoying innocence he stored inside him behind that wall of utter stupidity, shone through. He still wasn’t used to how guys talked to girls around here.
He wasn’t actually a New Yorker. He was from Portland, in Maine. Then his dad ran out on him and his mother. His mom couldn’t afford to stay there anymore so she came down here in the Bronx to live with her sister.
Even though Kyle had be subjected to the streets often, as his mother ignored the fact that she gave birth to him in the first place, (and desperately threw herself at a low life alcoholic whom Kyle knew had no interest in becoming his step-father) - He still hadn’t learned the rules from around here.
From what he used to tell me, in Portland Maine you kept to yourself and if not you were polite.
In the South Bronx, Harlem City and Cooperstown our boys carried knives and guns, and our girls were half-jokingly rumored to wear pad-locks and dead-bolts around their underwear to delay the act of rape by as long as it takes a psychopath to pick a lock.
…
I get that that sounds disturbingly crude, but I hoped he’d learn soon, I was sick of risking my life to save him.
Anyway, my mind fixed on a venomous retort for the big, bald guy.
“Keep dreaming, buddy – Only thing I’m gonna do is watch you shove your head up his ass,” I pointed to him and then to the knife wielding Coop. “then if you can position things right you can fuck your little buddy instead,” I gestured to the smallest Coop, lastly. “– that sounds more realis-tic, to me.” I was surprised at how calm I sounded.
Okay, I know I just got pissed at the Kid for mouthing off to these guys earlier and I was totally doing the same – but we were already in a ‘situation’, it couldn’t hurt to cuss them out a good deal. Besides, it added more dignity to getting the stuffing beaten out of you.
Okay, so that is a half-assed excuse. I guess I’m a hypocrite – I can’t keep my mouth shut too good either.
The Coops fell silent, glaring at me, unable to think of anything smarter to say.
“You might not want to get mouthy – things could get messy.” The Coop with the blade said lowly. The look in his eyes told me that it was indeed about to get messy.
Might as well tack on one more insult before I die.
I turned to his fat friend again, still with a surprisingly calm voice.
“Who’s afraid of the big, bald wolf?” I said in a sing song voice.
Finally the fat Coop nodded to his friend.
“Get ‘em, Don.” He ordered, glaring at me.
The Coop with the knife came barreling toward us.
Kyle gave a shriek and dodged out of the way just barely. I, on the other hand, took the impact. I braced myself again his harsh weight and cracked a decent punch at the Coop right in his massive and surprisingly rock-solid gut, barely avoiding his poorly poised knife and bruising my hand quite badly – not that I noticed at the time, though. Ah, the wonders of fear and adrenaline!
I used a trick that Jimmy had taught all of us older Slashers - I swung quarter way, until I was behind him and brought my hand down hard just above his elbow. He yelled out in agony - I’d just snapped the ligaments of the agonist muscle behind his bicep.
Basically, Jimmy’s fighting lessons came in handy.
In his pain he dropped his blade, and that’s when I noticed the other Coops running for it as it clattering to the concrete. I was shoved up against the wall by the fat, bald one and wondered vaguely if he ever showered – he sure didn’t smell like he did. Christ.
He had his hands around my neck and in my panic I stupidly let out all the breath I had left. I tried to knee him hard in the vital area but I’d been lifted off the ground and my legs just couldn’t make purchase – black spots bloomed before my eyes.
I could just barely see the little Coop who’d gotten a hold of the blade lunge at Kyle who managed to dart out of the way. The other Coop whose arm I’d trashed was cussing and slowly getting up. Kyle was screwed.
That made me livid with rage. The alley took on a harsh red tint. And like a feral jungle cat I pulled my neck free enough to bite the fat Coop’s hand. It was all sweaty skin and dirty sinew. He gasped and dropped me a little bit. It was just enough. It was enough for me to use whatever energy I had left to kick ‘right where the sun don’t shine’, if you get me.
With a pained cry, he fell to the ground, clutching his tender nuts like a squirrel stocking up for hibernation.
The jumpy, little Coop, who’d retrieved the knife, was next – he came at Kyle and it was clear he’d never cut another boy before but it would be enough.
Running purely on adrenaline I jumped in the way, blocking the blow just in time – the blade spared Kyle and instead slipped, as if through butter, across my cheek. It didn’t hurt immediately, but it felt cold and sharp and just fucking evil. Kyle’s horrified gasp didn’t do much for my nerves either.
…
I’d been cut. I’d been cut. Oh. Is it very bad doctor? Doctor? Why can’t I see? Why am I under water? Isn’t it a little early to go? Do I care? I’m CUT.
The world seemed to pause for my reaction. I waited for it too. But all I could register was that the fight wasn’t over and that I could hardly breathe.
Thankfully the adrenaline in my veins got me thinking clearly again. I knocked the blade away, cutting my hand, as the Coop came at me again to bring the blade to my neck. I grabbed his wrist, causing him to slip and fall with only one sharp yank from me. I didn’t hesitate to crush his face with the bottom of my shoe once his head hit the ground with a satisfying ‘bang’.
Before I could retain the harsh crunching sound of the cartilage snapping in his nose and be impressed with my new fighting skills – Kyle squeaked out a cry for help. Turning abruptly I saw him barely dodging the Coop with the shot arm’s jabs. Which was pathetic because the guy was hobbling like he was drunk. But The Kid isn’t too hot of a fighter, as I said.
The Big Bald Wolf came at me too. It seemed like he’d recovered from my kneeing him in the vital tenders, though he was still limping. Must’ve been the extra layers of fat.
I couldn’t fight anymore. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. My cheek was all wet and sticky and it was gushing red. Like my hand. And my neck hurt. Did I pop a cord? Please no, not that. I like my neck. I wanted to keep fighting but I was stuck. Help the Kid? No chance, fat Coop would choke me again. Attack the fat Coop? Sure, but with what energy?
I remembered one thing before the Big Bald Wolf grabbed at me again: I gotta quit smokin’.
But someone lifted the Coop up in mid-air and threw him almost effortlessly to the ground. Which might-I-just-say was pretty frigging amazing considering that guy was 400 lbs at least.
Over the fat Coop’s cries of surprise and pain I heard the blade clang to the ground – the little Coop who’d cut me had lost his hold on it. My first instinct was to lunge for it and drive it into his chest – ending his miserable life for good. And I would if I had the energy.
Dammit, Jade! GET the goddam energy. You could kill him. You could. You really could. Get up and KILL him. Just go and do it. You can! You can-
I stopped cold.
Why the hell was I thinking that? I didn’t want to kill anyone. Let alone some stupid little brat from Cooperstown. I realized I was shaking like a leaf – what the hell was going on with me?
It was like my blood was turning to ice…
To steel, more like it.
…
To distract myself I turned to look at who’d helped us.
Tyler Moore loomed over his victim, spitting out the dirtiest curses he knew. His trade-mark look of pure hate and rage scrunching up his thick eyebrows over his onyx black, deep set eyes.
I whipped my head around to see about Kyle. He was safe. The Coop that had been after him was cursing and yelling and limping. He was pulling the little Coop to their car.
I picked up a random beer can from off the ground and chucked it at them. The little Coop was too lifeless but his buddy stared at me. He was scared. They’d been ambushed. By Slashers. And they knew what came along with Slashers.
Little did they know, though, Jimmy wasn’t with us – but they seemed too freaked out to stick around and find out.
At the moment the once frightening and now frightened Coop met my stare I said the nastiest thing I ever said. Something really disgusting. It was so sick that the poor guy didn’t have it in him to make a come-back before they got away. He just looked like he might throw up and then hastily shoved his buddy in the back seat like a ragdoll. Don’t ask me what I said, I can’t really remember. Something about what they should do together when they got in their car. It was nasty – and jam-packed with curses and ugly descriptions. Not too lady like on my part. I felt proud and ashamed at the same time.
I shivered.
The fat guy managed to scramble away and the defeated Coops picked themselves up and slinked off; cursing at us just to save whatever dignity they had left – but nothing could top what I’d said. The Coop I’d said it to gave me one last horrified look, but Tyler acted like he might give chase, which only made them shove off faster.
Tyler was one of us; a Slasher. He was a tall and lanky seventeen-year-old with a practically permanent glare. His hair was thick, wavy and dark. His skin was ruddy and tanned. His nose had been broken so many times even he had lost count. His eyes were smoldering. He may have been coarse and rude looking, but he was brimming with strong character – which is why I considered him one of my favourite people. He was always true to himself.
“Let me guess… This is all your fault.” He grumbled, glaring down at Kyle.
Kyle tried to protest, mouth opening and closing, silently, like that of a fish.
I felt sorry for him, even though I felt like ragging on him too. I was about to defend him but someone grabbed my shoulders from behind and pulled me to them with one quick tug.
With a yelp I struggled to get free, turning to see who’d caught me.
A familiar face – Cheshire Cat’s grin, reddish brown hair that kicked out in the back and front, dancing, sly chocolate brown eyes and all; my best friend James Dean (whom I call Jamie and everyone else called JD) grinned down at me.
“Damn Denver that was the shittiest thing I’ve ever heard you say… Where in the almighty fuck did you pick up a line like that?” He crowed at me in his thick, dirty South Bronx accent.
This was how you complimented a friend here.
He patted me on the back, knocking the wind out of me again. I returned his smile with a shaky one of my own.
“Man, you sure are one hell of a fighter…” He added, shaking his head at me.
“We would’ve been dead meat if it wasn’t for you two, though.” I said.
“What? You getting’ old or something?” Tyler asked, raking a hand through his thick, dirty, dark hair. He flashed me a rare grin and mock-punched my shoulder as if to comfort me.
“No, I’m just not doing too well…” I coughed.
“You look fine to me! At least you could fight! I’m the one who nearly died here!” Kyle squeaked, standing up and dusting of his clothes with shaky hands. Tyler turned and glared at him again, as if to say “and whose fault is that?” making The Kid shut up right quick.
“I’m a little freaked out too, Kid…” I said shivering. But I wasn’t about to tell them all why that was.
“Gosh, Jade! Show ‘em your face!” Kyle exclaimed suddenly, remembering me getting sliced. Tyler was about to yell at him again but stopped short and took a good look at my bloody cheek.
“Christ…” He hissed. He seemed to gag. Strangely enough, I found that sort of sweet. You’d have to know Tyler to get it. He was pretty tough and he acted like he didn’t care – but he was getting upset over my face being cut. Really upset. I guess it doesn’t make too much sense, to you. It might just be one of my movie-director-observations again. But I found it touching.
Jamie brushed my hair away from my face and gasped. His usually dancing eyes clouded over with something harsh, low and ugly. I looked away.
You saw eyes like that too much around here. Jimmy’s eyes. Tyler’s eyes. The Hell Hound’s eyes. The Coop’s eyes. Hell – my eyes.
I knew Jamie was too far gone to be anything close to innocent but I couldn’t bear to see him being anything close to the likes of Jimmy or any other punk.
Because it could happen. It could happen to any of us. We could lose it one day. We could never be the same and never have any hopes of fixing that.
It had very nearly just happened to me. I was ready to… end something I had no right to.
A kid’s life.
And what’s worse is that I remember Jamie before all this had happened. Before we grew up. Before we learned all the reason the hate the world.
And I absolutely loved that little kid. With the big grin and the bad hair and the stupid jokes and hugs and shoulder punches.
And sometimes that kid came back for me. Just for me. And that’s why Jamie and I were still friends. In loving memory of who we used to be - we weren’t going to give up on each other.
It wasn’t our fault these things happened.
Hell, it wasn’t really anyone’s.
But with that stupid, cloudy, dead look in his eyes I could tell he didn’t get it. For once he didn’t understand. And that lively little kid that was my best friend was even further from me than before. Somewhere left in the dust that had kicked up in a chaotic cloud; burning our eyes and drying out our innocence.
Seeing Jamie that way was nearly as bad as seeing an innocent little kid like Kyle that way.
Because I cared about Jamie too much, I guess.
“I’m gonna stomp the shit out of those-“Jamie began. But it was no use; the Coops had already hauled themselves into their pathetic, clunker of a car had made haste to escape us – like dogs with their tails between their legs.
Too late.
Jamie’s fists clenched. The look grew darker.
“It’s okay! You know this ain’t the first time I’ve been cut up.” I told him, hastily.
“We know.” Tyler said glumly, kicking another empty beer can across the street as we started walking.
We were going to Beck Salinger’s house. He was sort of like the gangs big brother. Nicest guy ever. Really helpful too, even if he was only a little older than us. Jamie wanted him to check out my cuts and make sure they weren’t going to get infected.
“It sure does make you look freakishly tough, though.” He commented, brushing my hair away from the gash again. Little wisps of hair kept sticking to it; ‘cause of all the blood.
He was staring at me and it was making me uncomfortable. I didn’t want them to see how freaked out I was. I didn’t want them to ask why, mostly. But Jamie knew me well; he could tell I was pretty bad off.
“What’s up?” He asked, taking three long paces to match my quickening stride.
“Nothing… Just cut my hand too, that’s all.” I raised my hand out to him, showing him the cut that carved its way in a sticky crevice between my first finger and thumb. Jamie winced.
He stepped in front of me, probably to take a look at my hand but stopped dead in his tracks. He stared at my neck.
Oh hell. Not now. I don’t need this now.
With a little gasp he touched my neck. I felt a dull, throbbing sting. It was probably bruised from where I’d been choked. He always kept his hands in his pockets no matter the season, so his warm, slightly damp skin felt nice again my bruised flesh. The icy air had helped to stop my cuts from bleeding so much but it was causing the ripped skin to chap. And it hurt. It starts getting chilly in late August over here. And that September was off to a surprisingly frigid start. Suddenly aware of how cold it had gotten, since all my strength had burnt out, I tugged my jacket around my body tighter.
The dark look was coming back to Jamie’s eyes. I hated him for looking like that.
Hated.
“Stop looking at me like that, JD.” I said flatly. I never called him Jamie in front of the guys. It was a ‘him and me’ thing.
“Like what?” He said still glaring at the ravaged skin on my neck.
“Like you wanna kill me, or something.”
“No. I don’t wanna kill you…”
Jeez…
Just give him different colored eyes, darker hair, a few more inches in height and paler skin and with that look on his face he’d be a dead ringer for Jimmy.
I shuddered.
Suddenly I felt dizzy. I’d been able to keep on my feet during the insane and near critical fight – but the thought of… ending some stupid kid made my stomach lurch. And now my best friend wanted to do something like that?
I wanted to curl up in some dark corner somewhere and forget about it all. But I couldn’t just pass out in front of the guys.
I stumbled a little and Tyler caught my arm. I tried to laugh it off but I could make no sound. I could hear no sound – the world took on a frightening dull roar, resonating somewhere in my head.
“Jade…” Kyle began in a worried wail.
God, it was embarrassing. What was wrong with me? I yanked out of Tyler’s grip and began to slink off as fast as I dared to Beck’s house. The boys followed silently – every time I looked back they were eyeing me with anxious eyes.
I hated pity. If pity was a guy I’d tell him to do something even worse than what I’d said to that Coop.
I tried to think of something worse than what‘d said all the way to Becks house.
I have a pretty disgusting vocabulary.
----
I slammed the door when I got to Becks. He always leaves it open for us. During the day, at least.
“Jade- whoa! What happened to you?!” Beck said, looking up from some papers he’d been reading.
“Fight.” Jamie answered for me as he came in. Kyle and Tyler followed after.
And then nothing much after that – given that I passed out on the couch.
--------------
That’s how it was for me that one late September day. It was getting cold already – the painfully chilly wind bit at my skin and jabbed at me as I ran against its force. I didn’t care though, I just kept running. And no, not just for the hell of it either. I was running from something. Rather someone, more than one, a whole pack full.
I kept up a constant yammering scream in my mind as I pounded the pavement:
Christ, Christ, CHRIST!! Oh, Shit, oh hell…. Run. Run. RUN, Dammit!!
Kyle, who was running beside me, was screaming and hollering and stumbling.
“Quit your fuckin’ squawking, wouldja?!” I hissed at him as we rounded the corner.
“JADE, WHAT’RE WE GONNA DO!?” Kyle screeched in terror, sobbing like a baby.
“We’re going to try to lose ‘em so SHUT UP!” I commanded.
We slammed into a crowd of people then, like cutting into a concrete wall of shoppers and pedestrians - Painful. I got several smacks in the face and jabs in the gut by the odd person’s elbow or back, here and there. That was a good thing, though, because ‘the pack’ was gaining on us. We squeezed in between the countless bodies of the clueless town-square people.
I shoved my way through, not even bothering to apologize to those who’d gotten in my way. On the other side of the crowd, I saw Kyle who waved me over-
“Hey, Don! They’re over here!” I heard a Coop yell.
“Don’t just stand there! Get ‘em!”
Oh. Shit.
Three of the Coops, who’d been able to follow us through the crowd, slowly closed in on us.
Okay, so you’re probably wondering who ‘The Coops’ are.
Well, when you live in a city like mine; it’s always survival of the fittest. And how can we assure that we are the ‘fittest’?
There’s always strength in numbers.
I can name several gangs here in the Bronx, New York and our general area – and there’s probably even more than that. The three main ones I can bring to mind were: Us, The South Side Slashers, The Harlem Hell Hounds; deadly as anything. And then there was the gang from Cooperstown. Not as deadly, but them against just The Kid (that’s what we all called Kyle) and me – was the death sentence.
They had us cornered. There was nowhere else to run to.
“What now, Jade? What are we gonna do now?!” Kyle hissed to me, clearly going into hysterics.
“Didn’t I tell you to shut up?!” I screeched back.
We slowly backed up against the alley’s wall. It was dark, but I still saw a facet of light bounce off of one of the bigger Coop’s switchblade.
We were done for.
“This is the last time you fuck with us, you little punks.” The big Coop with the knife said.
“Yeah, now we is gonna fuck wit you!” The tiny, jittery Coop said - eye’s glinting madly at his buddy with the knife, grinning teeth coated with unhealthy spit.
I swear, the kids from our side sound so stupid – with their dumb faces and bad grammar. But if they were wielding weapons you had to take them seriously. Besides, it’s not like I was any better.
They approached us slowly – like a thick, choking cloud of smoke. So dense that it was almost solid. Sort of like the dry ice smoke they used in old horror movies – with the disturbing, cloying scent along with it.
Yeah, like I told you – I observe way too much. Even if I’m about to get my head kicked in and my guts splattered. I could be a movie director – that’s what I used to dream of by myself. Don’t those hot shots see everything from 50 different angles? That’s totally me.
As the Cooperstown thugs approached us I realized they were sort of like a pack of small feral dogs, ready and rabid but, wary and cautious, but why? Kyle and I were outnumbered, what did those goons have to fear?
It was because of our reputation. The South Side Slashers had one big contender. A force of Satan you’d have to be nuts to reckon with.
That one real contender would be James ‘Jimmy’ McCarthy.
Not so scary, right? Wrong.
Some called him Razor-James, The Blade of Death and, my personal favourite, The King of the Damned. He was your typical high school drop-out, drug dealing, kleptomaniac who scared the shit out of nearly everyone, even the Coops who were our attackers for the evening. And why? Rumor has it that he’d killed at least 5 people, purposely. Knifed them. That’s how we got the name The Slashers. Our big guy was a killer.
So why were kids like Kyle and I hanging around some guy who was an alleged murderer?
We were stupid and we couldn’t ignore two things that our scary, near-evil friend provided for us:
Strength in numbers and survival of the fittest.
I could never believe that he’d killed anyone – if he did then it was self defense. Especially since he hadn’t been jailed yet. We thought it was cool to have him on our side. It would make us intimidating. Something you had to be to get by back then.
I could see it on their faces as they slowly approached us. Will that crazy guy get us if we do anything to them? What if he just pops out of nowhere?
I didn’t blame them.
I guess he scared me too – hell, he scared everyone, right?
Of course I couldn’t say that to the others. But really. He was freakishly real and very distant. I wondered why he stuck up for us all the time. I wondered if one day he’d turn on us for kicks and we’d all get craved up.
He fascinated me.
He intimidated everyone else.
Good, right?
Well, here’s the catch:
He’d gone missing about a month back. No one knows where he went. His girlfriend was gone too – they’d gone off together, most likely. It was a Slasher secret. If word got out to our rivals we’d be dead. As long as they thought he’d pop up out of nowhere and stab them in the face – we were okay.
But Jimmy wasn’t there with us, so it was up to me to defend Kyle and me.
Damn-it-all-to-hell… why did the little brat have to go and bother them?
You know that feeling you get, when you’re dreaming, like you can’t run fast enough? Like you’re under water and your legs weigh a ton of bricks?
That’s how it was for me that one late September day. It was getting cold already – the painfully chilly wind bit at my skin and jabbed at me as I ran against its force. I didn’t care though, I just kept running. And no, not just for the hell of it either. I was running from something. Rather someone, more than one, a whole pack full.
I kept up a constant yammering scream in my mind as I pounded the pavement:
Christ, Christ, CHRIST!! Oh, Shit, oh hell…. Run. Run. RUN, Dammit!!
Kyle, who was running beside me, was screaming and hollering and stumbling.
“Quit your fuckin’ squawking, wouldja?!” I hissed at him as we rounded the corner.
“JADE, WHAT’RE WE GONNA DO!?” Kyle screeched in terror, sobbing like a baby.
“We’re going to try to lose ‘em so SHUT UP!” I commanded.
We slammed into a crowd of people then, like cutting into a concrete wall of shoppers and pedestrians - Painful. I got several smacks in the face and jabs in the gut by the odd person’s elbow or back, here and there. That was a good thing, though, because ‘the pack’ was gaining on us. We squeezed in between the countless bodies of the clueless town-square people.
I shoved my way through, not even bothering to apologize to those who’d gotten in my way. On the other side of the crowd, I saw Kyle who waved me over-
“Hey, Don! They’re over here!” I heard a Coop yell.
“Don’t just stand there! Get ‘em!”
Oh. Shit.
Three of the Coops, who’d been able to follow us through the crowd, slowly closed in on us.
Okay, so you’re probably wondering who ‘The Coops’ are.
Well, when you live in a city like mine; it’s always survival of the fittest. And how can we assure that we are the ‘fittest’?
There’s always strength in numbers.
I can name several gangs here in the Bronx, New York and our general area – and there’s probably even more than that. The three main ones I can bring to mind were: Us, The South Side Slashers, The Harlem Hell Hounds; deadly as anything. And then there was the gang from Cooperstown. Not as deadly, but them against just The Kid (that’s what we all called Kyle) and me – was the death sentence.
They had us cornered. There was nowhere else to run to.
“What now, Jade? What are we gonna do now?!” Kyle hissed to me, clearly going into hysterics.
“Didn’t I tell you to shut up?!” I screeched back.
We slowly backed up against the alley’s wall. It was dark, but I still saw a facet of light bounce off of one of the bigger Coop’s switchblade.
We were done for.
“This is the last time you fuck with us, you little punks.” The big Coop with the knife said.
“Yeah, now we is gonna fuck wit you!” The tiny, jittery Coop said - eye’s glinting madly at his buddy with the knife, grinning teeth coated with unhealthy spit.
I swear, the kids from our side sound so stupid – with their dumb faces and bad grammar. But if they were wielding weapons you had to take them seriously. Besides, it’s not like I was any better.
They approached us slowly – like a thick, choking cloud of smoke. So dense that it was almost solid. Sort of like the dry ice smoke they used in old horror movies – with the disturbing, cloying scent along with it.
Yeah, like I told you – I observe way too much. Even if I’m about to get my head kicked in and my guts splattered. I could be a movie director – that’s what I used to dream of by myself. Don’t those hot shots see everything from 50 different angles? That’s totally me.
As the Cooperstown thugs approached us I realized they were sort of like a pack of small feral dogs, ready and rabid but, wary and cautious, but why? Kyle and I were outnumbered, what did those goons have to fear?
It was because of our reputation. The South Side Slashers had one big contender. A force of Satan you’d have to be nuts to reckon with.
That one real contender would be James ‘Jimmy’ McCarthy.
Not so scary, right? Wrong.
Some called him Razor-James, The Blade of Death and, my personal favourite, The King of the Damned. He was your typical high school drop-out, drug dealing, kleptomaniac who scared the shit out of nearly everyone, even the Coops who were our attackers for the evening. And why? Rumor has it that he’d killed at least 5 people, purposely. Knifed them. That’s how we got the name The Slashers. Our big guy was a killer.
So why were kids like Kyle and I hanging around some guy who was an alleged murderer?
We were stupid and we couldn’t ignore two things that our scary, near-evil friend provided for us:
Strength in numbers and survival of the fittest.
I could never believe that he’d killed anyone – if he did then it was self defense. Especially since he hadn’t been jailed yet. We thought it was cool to have him on our side. It would make us intimidating. Something you had to be to get by back then.
I could see it on their faces as they slowly approached us. Will that crazy guy get us if we do anything to them? What if he just pops out of nowhere?
I didn’t blame them.
I guess he scared me too – hell, he scared everyone, right?
Of course I couldn’t say that to the others. But really. He was freakishly real and very distant. I wondered why he stuck up for us all the time. I wondered if one day he’d turn on us for kicks and we’d all get craved up.
He fascinated me.
He intimidated everyone else.
Good, right?
Well, here’s the catch:
He’d gone missing about a month back. No one knows where he went. His girlfriend was gone too – they’d gone off together, most likely. It was a Slasher secret. If word got out to our rivals we’d be dead. As long as they thought he’d pop up out of nowhere and stab them in the face – we were okay.
But Jimmy wasn’t there with us, so it was up to me to defend Kyle and me.
Damn-it-all-to-hell… why did the little brat have to go and bother them?
Some of our guys could get away with stunts like that, but that’s because they were older, and stronger, and wiser and faster. If you’re not a bull fighter don’t shoot the bull.
And now guess what? Yep. Ole! Ole! They’re charging right-the-fuck-at-us!
Before I go on to tell you about how well that went, I should probably tell you what exactly he did to tick them off, shouldn’t I?
Kyle was the like our pet. Our baby. I’m not exactly calling him the weakest link, or anything. (Even though he was) – But he was just automatically everyone’s kid brother.
He was just a scrap of a boy; hardly fourteen years old. With an unruly, poorly cut mop of golden hair falling in his face and bright, corn-flower blue eyes, he was short, skinny and very impressionable.
He tried desperately to be like us. He tried especially hard to be like Jimmy. He idolized him for his toughness and so that day and for that reason, he decided to slash a Coop’s tires for no reason in particular.
Slashed tires are no joke when you have to work your butt off just to afford them, but what’s worse? He started mouthing off to one of them, when he got caught, the little idiot.
The worst thing you can do is insult any dirty Bronxy’s momma. But a thug from Cooperstown?! Was he out of his mind?!
I wanted so badly to freeze everything then and there and cuss him out something awful. Slap the teeth out of him too. But I had other things to deal with…
“Hey, Baby,” The bald fat one, next to the one with the blade, said to me, “You give us your lil’ friend and I’ll save all the ‘fuckin’ wit’ for just you n’ me.” He offered with a wink.
I tried not to gag.
The Coops howled with laughter and their repulsive friend smiled at me.
Kyle gaped at him in horrific disbelief. The annoying innocence he stored inside him behind that wall of utter stupidity, shone through. He still wasn’t used to how guys talked to girls around here.
He wasn’t actually a New Yorker. He was from Portland, in Maine. Then his dad ran out on him and his mother. His mom couldn’t afford to stay there anymore so she came down here in the Bronx to live with her sister.
Even though Kyle had be subjected to the streets often, as his mother ignored the fact that she gave birth to him in the first place, (and desperately threw herself at a low life alcoholic whom Kyle knew had no interest in becoming his step-father) - He still hadn’t learned the rules from around here.
From what he used to tell me, in Portland Maine you kept to yourself and if not you were polite.
In the South Bronx, Harlem City and Cooperstown our boys carried knives and guns, and our girls were half-jokingly rumored to wear pad-locks and dead-bolts around their underwear to delay the act of rape by as long as it takes a psychopath to pick a lock.
…
I get that that sounds disturbingly crude, but I hoped he’d learn soon, I was sick of risking my life to save him.
Anyway, my mind fixed on a venomous retort for the big, bald guy.
“Keep dreaming, buddy – Only thing I’m gonna do is watch you shove your head up his ass,” I pointed to him and then to the knife wielding Coop. “then if you can position things right you can fuck your little buddy instead,” I gestured to the smallest Coop, lastly. “– that sounds more realis-tic, to me.” I was surprised at how calm I sounded.
Okay, I know I just got pissed at the Kid for mouthing off to these guys earlier and I was totally doing the same – but we were already in a ‘situation’, it couldn’t hurt to cuss them out a good deal. Besides, it added more dignity to getting the stuffing beaten out of you.
Okay, so that is a half-assed excuse. I guess I’m a hypocrite – I can’t keep my mouth shut too good either.
The Coops fell silent, glaring at me, unable to think of anything smarter to say.
“You might not want to get mouthy – things could get messy.” The Coop with the blade said lowly. The look in his eyes told me that it was indeed about to get messy.
Might as well tack on one more insult before I die.
I turned to his fat friend again, still with a surprisingly calm voice.
“Who’s afraid of the big, bald wolf?” I said in a sing song voice.
Finally the fat Coop nodded to his friend.
“Get ‘em, Don.” He ordered, glaring at me.
The Coop with the knife came barreling toward us.
Kyle gave a shriek and dodged out of the way just barely. I, on the other hand, took the impact. I braced myself again his harsh weight and cracked a decent punch at the Coop right in his massive and surprisingly rock-solid gut, barely avoiding his poorly poised knife and bruising my hand quite badly – not that I noticed at the time, though. Ah, the wonders of fear and adrenaline!
I used a trick that Jimmy had taught all of us older Slashers - I swung quarter way, until I was behind him and brought my hand down hard just above his elbow. He yelled out in agony - I’d just snapped the ligaments of the agonist muscle behind his bicep.
Basically, Jimmy’s fighting lessons came in handy.
In his pain he dropped his blade, and that’s when I noticed the other Coops running for it as it clattering to the concrete. I was shoved up against the wall by the fat, bald one and wondered vaguely if he ever showered – he sure didn’t smell like he did. Christ.
He had his hands around my neck and in my panic I stupidly let out all the breath I had left. I tried to knee him hard in the vital area but I’d been lifted off the ground and my legs just couldn’t make purchase – black spots bloomed before my eyes.
I could just barely see the little Coop who’d gotten a hold of the blade lunge at Kyle who managed to dart out of the way. The other Coop whose arm I’d trashed was cussing and slowly getting up. Kyle was screwed.
That made me livid with rage. The alley took on a harsh red tint. And like a feral jungle cat I pulled my neck free enough to bite the fat Coop’s hand. It was all sweaty skin and dirty sinew. He gasped and dropped me a little bit. It was just enough. It was enough for me to use whatever energy I had left to kick ‘right where the sun don’t shine’, if you get me.
With a pained cry, he fell to the ground, clutching his tender nuts like a squirrel stocking up for hibernation.
The jumpy, little Coop, who’d retrieved the knife, was next – he came at Kyle and it was clear he’d never cut another boy before but it would be enough.
Running purely on adrenaline I jumped in the way, blocking the blow just in time – the blade spared Kyle and instead slipped, as if through butter, across my cheek. It didn’t hurt immediately, but it felt cold and sharp and just fucking evil. Kyle’s horrified gasp didn’t do much for my nerves either.
…
I’d been cut. I’d been cut. Oh. Is it very bad doctor? Doctor? Why can’t I see? Why am I under water? Isn’t it a little early to go? Do I care? I’m CUT.
The world seemed to pause for my reaction. I waited for it too. But all I could register was that the fight wasn’t over and that I could hardly breathe.
Thankfully the adrenaline in my veins got me thinking clearly again. I knocked the blade away, cutting my hand, as the Coop came at me again to bring the blade to my neck. I grabbed his wrist, causing him to slip and fall with only one sharp yank from me. I didn’t hesitate to crush his face with the bottom of my shoe once his head hit the ground with a satisfying ‘bang’.
Before I could retain the harsh crunching sound of the cartilage snapping in his nose and be impressed with my new fighting skills – Kyle squeaked out a cry for help. Turning abruptly I saw him barely dodging the Coop with the shot arm’s jabs. Which was pathetic because the guy was hobbling like he was drunk. But The Kid isn’t too hot of a fighter, as I said.
The Big Bald Wolf came at me too. It seemed like he’d recovered from my kneeing him in the vital tenders, though he was still limping. Must’ve been the extra layers of fat.
I couldn’t fight anymore. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. My cheek was all wet and sticky and it was gushing red. Like my hand. And my neck hurt. Did I pop a cord? Please no, not that. I like my neck. I wanted to keep fighting but I was stuck. Help the Kid? No chance, fat Coop would choke me again. Attack the fat Coop? Sure, but with what energy?
I remembered one thing before the Big Bald Wolf grabbed at me again: I gotta quit smokin’.
But someone lifted the Coop up in mid-air and threw him almost effortlessly to the ground. Which might-I-just-say was pretty frigging amazing considering that guy was 400 lbs at least.
Over the fat Coop’s cries of surprise and pain I heard the blade clang to the ground – the little Coop who’d cut me had lost his hold on it. My first instinct was to lunge for it and drive it into his chest – ending his miserable life for good. And I would if I had the energy.
Dammit, Jade! GET the goddam energy. You could kill him. You could. You really could. Get up and KILL him. Just go and do it. You can! You can-
I stopped cold.
Why the hell was I thinking that? I didn’t want to kill anyone. Let alone some stupid little brat from Cooperstown. I realized I was shaking like a leaf – what the hell was going on with me?
It was like my blood was turning to ice…
To steel, more like it.
…
To distract myself I turned to look at who’d helped us.
Tyler Moore loomed over his victim, spitting out the dirtiest curses he knew. His trade-mark look of pure hate and rage scrunching up his thick eyebrows over his onyx black, deep set eyes.
I whipped my head around to see about Kyle. He was safe. The Coop that had been after him was cursing and yelling and limping. He was pulling the little Coop to their car.
I picked up a random beer can from off the ground and chucked it at them. The little Coop was too lifeless but his buddy stared at me. He was scared. They’d been ambushed. By Slashers. And they knew what came along with Slashers.
Little did they know, though, Jimmy wasn’t with us – but they seemed too freaked out to stick around and find out.
At the moment the once frightening and now frightened Coop met my stare I said the nastiest thing I ever said. Something really disgusting. It was so sick that the poor guy didn’t have it in him to make a come-back before they got away. He just looked like he might throw up and then hastily shoved his buddy in the back seat like a ragdoll. Don’t ask me what I said, I can’t really remember. Something about what they should do together when they got in their car. It was nasty – and jam-packed with curses and ugly descriptions. Not too lady like on my part. I felt proud and ashamed at the same time.
I shivered.
The fat guy managed to scramble away and the defeated Coops picked themselves up and slinked off; cursing at us just to save whatever dignity they had left – but nothing could top what I’d said. The Coop I’d said it to gave me one last horrified look, but Tyler acted like he might give chase, which only made them shove off faster.
Tyler was one of us; a Slasher. He was a tall and lanky seventeen-year-old with a practically permanent glare. His hair was thick, wavy and dark. His skin was ruddy and tanned. His nose had been broken so many times even he had lost count. His eyes were smoldering. He may have been coarse and rude looking, but he was brimming with strong character – which is why I considered him one of my favourite people. He was always true to himself.
“Let me guess… This is all your fault.” He grumbled, glaring down at Kyle.
Kyle tried to protest, mouth opening and closing, silently, like that of a fish.
I felt sorry for him, even though I felt like ragging on him too. I was about to defend him but someone grabbed my shoulders from behind and pulled me to them with one quick tug.
With a yelp I struggled to get free, turning to see who’d caught me.
A familiar face – Cheshire Cat’s grin, reddish brown hair that kicked out in the back and front, dancing, sly chocolate brown eyes and all; my best friend James Dean (whom I call Jamie and everyone else called JD) grinned down at me.
“Damn Denver that was the shittiest thing I’ve ever heard you say… Where in the almighty fuck did you pick up a line like that?” He crowed at me in his thick, dirty South Bronx accent.
This was how you complimented a friend here.
He patted me on the back, knocking the wind out of me again. I returned his smile with a shaky one of my own.
“Man, you sure are one hell of a fighter…” He added, shaking his head at me.
“We would’ve been dead meat if it wasn’t for you two, though.” I said.
“What? You getting’ old or something?” Tyler asked, raking a hand through his thick, dirty, dark hair. He flashed me a rare grin and mock-punched my shoulder as if to comfort me.
“No, I’m just not doing too well…” I coughed.
“You look fine to me! At least you could fight! I’m the one who nearly died here!” Kyle squeaked, standing up and dusting of his clothes with shaky hands. Tyler turned and glared at him again, as if to say “and whose fault is that?” making The Kid shut up right quick.
“I’m a little freaked out too, Kid…” I said shivering. But I wasn’t about to tell them all why that was.
“Gosh, Jade! Show ‘em your face!” Kyle exclaimed suddenly, remembering me getting sliced. Tyler was about to yell at him again but stopped short and took a good look at my bloody cheek.
“Christ…” He hissed. He seemed to gag. Strangely enough, I found that sort of sweet. You’d have to know Tyler to get it. He was pretty tough and he acted like he didn’t care – but he was getting upset over my face being cut. Really upset. I guess it doesn’t make too much sense, to you. It might just be one of my movie-director-observations again. But I found it touching.
Jamie brushed my hair away from my face and gasped. His usually dancing eyes clouded over with something harsh, low and ugly. I looked away.
You saw eyes like that too much around here. Jimmy’s eyes. Tyler’s eyes. The Hell Hound’s eyes. The Coop’s eyes. Hell – my eyes.
I knew Jamie was too far gone to be anything close to innocent but I couldn’t bear to see him being anything close to the likes of Jimmy or any other punk.
Because it could happen. It could happen to any of us. We could lose it one day. We could never be the same and never have any hopes of fixing that.
It had very nearly just happened to me. I was ready to… end something I had no right to.
A kid’s life.
And what’s worse is that I remember Jamie before all this had happened. Before we grew up. Before we learned all the reason the hate the world.
And I absolutely loved that little kid. With the big grin and the bad hair and the stupid jokes and hugs and shoulder punches.
And sometimes that kid came back for me. Just for me. And that’s why Jamie and I were still friends. In loving memory of who we used to be - we weren’t going to give up on each other.
It wasn’t our fault these things happened.
Hell, it wasn’t really anyone’s.
But with that stupid, cloudy, dead look in his eyes I could tell he didn’t get it. For once he didn’t understand. And that lively little kid that was my best friend was even further from me than before. Somewhere left in the dust that had kicked up in a chaotic cloud; burning our eyes and drying out our innocence.
Seeing Jamie that way was nearly as bad as seeing an innocent little kid like Kyle that way.
Because I cared about Jamie too much, I guess.
“I’m gonna stomp the shit out of those-“Jamie began. But it was no use; the Coops had already hauled themselves into their pathetic, clunker of a car had made haste to escape us – like dogs with their tails between their legs.
Too late.
Jamie’s fists clenched. The look grew darker.
“It’s okay! You know this ain’t the first time I’ve been cut up.” I told him, hastily.
“We know.” Tyler said glumly, kicking another empty beer can across the street as we started walking.
We were going to Beck Salinger’s house. He was sort of like the gangs big brother. Nicest guy ever. Really helpful too, even if he was only a little older than us. Jamie wanted him to check out my cuts and make sure they weren’t going to get infected.
“It sure does make you look freakishly tough, though.” He commented, brushing my hair away from the gash again. Little wisps of hair kept sticking to it; ‘cause of all the blood.
He was staring at me and it was making me uncomfortable. I didn’t want them to see how freaked out I was. I didn’t want them to ask why, mostly. But Jamie knew me well; he could tell I was pretty bad off.
“What’s up?” He asked, taking three long paces to match my quickening stride.
“Nothing… Just cut my hand too, that’s all.” I raised my hand out to him, showing him the cut that carved its way in a sticky crevice between my first finger and thumb. Jamie winced.
He stepped in front of me, probably to take a look at my hand but stopped dead in his tracks. He stared at my neck.
Oh hell. Not now. I don’t need this now.
With a little gasp he touched my neck. I felt a dull, throbbing sting. It was probably bruised from where I’d been choked. He always kept his hands in his pockets no matter the season, so his warm, slightly damp skin felt nice again my bruised flesh. The icy air had helped to stop my cuts from bleeding so much but it was causing the ripped skin to chap. And it hurt. It starts getting chilly in late August over here. And that September was off to a surprisingly frigid start. Suddenly aware of how cold it had gotten, since all my strength had burnt out, I tugged my jacket around my body tighter.
The dark look was coming back to Jamie’s eyes. I hated him for looking like that.
Hated.
“Stop looking at me like that, JD.” I said flatly. I never called him Jamie in front of the guys. It was a ‘him and me’ thing.
“Like what?” He said still glaring at the ravaged skin on my neck.
“Like you wanna kill me, or something.”
“No. I don’t wanna kill you…”
Jeez…
Just give him different colored eyes, darker hair, a few more inches in height and paler skin and with that look on his face he’d be a dead ringer for Jimmy.
I shuddered.
Suddenly I felt dizzy. I’d been able to keep on my feet during the insane and near critical fight – but the thought of… ending some stupid kid made my stomach lurch. And now my best friend wanted to do something like that?
I wanted to curl up in some dark corner somewhere and forget about it all. But I couldn’t just pass out in front of the guys.
I stumbled a little and Tyler caught my arm. I tried to laugh it off but I could make no sound. I could hear no sound – the world took on a frightening dull roar, resonating somewhere in my head.
“Jade…” Kyle began in a worried wail.
God, it was embarrassing. What was wrong with me? I yanked out of Tyler’s grip and began to slink off as fast as I dared to Beck’s house. The boys followed silently – every time I looked back they were eyeing me with anxious eyes.
I hated pity. If pity was a guy I’d tell him to do something even worse than what I’d said to that Coop.
I tried to think of something worse than what‘d said all the way to Becks house.
I have a pretty disgusting vocabulary.
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I slammed the door when I got to Becks. He always leaves it open for us. During the day, at least.
“Jade- whoa! What happened to you?!” Beck said, looking up from some papers he’d been reading.
“Fight.” Jamie answered for me as he came in. Kyle and Tyler followed after.
And then nothing much after that – given that I passed out on the couch.
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Part 2 coming soon. Whaddaya think? should I carry on or do I suck? :P