Wasted Youth

         His fists were like small bulldozers. One in my gut, then another smashed into my jaw. I’m getting my ass kicked, by a roid monkey no less. This shit will not fly. I see another bulldozer coming straight for my nose, and I dodge, feinting left. I quickly grab the arm by the wrist with my right arm and force my left arm against his elbow, pushing him into the brick wall. Like clockwork.
         “You sonuvabitch!” Russ screams when his face slams into the brick. “You skinny sonuvabitch! You’re gonna eat dirt tomorrow!”
         “Calling me skinny won’t change the fact that you’re my bitch in this situation,” I retort. “I could break your arm right now if I wanted to.” I press my forearm harder into his elbow. “You feel that? Two more inches and it snaps backwards.”
         “Fine! Ah...What the hell do you want then?”
         “Just take back what you said to my friend there,” I demand as I spin Russ around to face Leon. I make sure I still have a firm grip on his arm, which I’ve now twisted behind his back.
         “Jesus, Max! Ease up, man! Alright, alright, I’m sorry, ok? I’m sorry!”
         “Now was that so hard? You can screw off now, buddy,” I tell Russ. I let go of his arm and he immediately spins around with a wild haymaker, which I see coming a mile away. I feint again, slipping his punch. He’ll never learn. I make a quick jab into his ribs, then I turn and run, grabbing Leon.
         “Hey Max, thanks. I appreciate you having my back,” Leon says to me, panting. Poor guy’s in terrible shape.
         “Don’t get all sentimental on me now, dude. We gotta lose this dumbass behind us first.” Russ was slowly losing steam. Must have realised he had no chance of catching us.
         A little while later, after we got into our dorm and locked the door, I was watching T.V., holding some ice on my jaw, when Leon came in and showed me his new knife. He was spittin’ all these facts about it. Leon was obsessed with knives. Like, unhealthily so. I lost count, actually, he’s got so many. Keeps them in his dresser, under his bed, in the cupboards, and even a few under a loose floorboard. Like I said, unhealthy.
         “Leon, I’m just tryin’ to watch T.V. dude,” I say, cutting him off from some facts about the blade. “I don’t really care about the knife.”
         “I know...What are you watching?”
         “Star Wars.”
         “Again? Max, you’re obsessed!” Says the guy who was literally just obsessing over a knife.
         “Hey, I won’t apologise for loving a great movie series,” I proclaimed. I loved Star Wars. Leon was right by the way, I was a bit obsessed. Even have a few Star Wars tattoos. But I don’t care what anyone thinks, It’s a great series. I’ll fight anyone who says different.
         “What episode?”
         “You actually wanna know?” I asked him.
         “Sure.”
         “Number three.”
         “Oh yeah… That’s the one with that Dark Vader guy, right?” Leon trying to sound like he knows what he’s talking about again.
         “It’s DarTH Vader. And no… I mean yeah, well, he’s in more than one-”
         “Ok whatever, man,” Leon got up and walked out. Prick.
         After two more episodes I decided to go to bed. I sort of needed my rest for tomorrow. I go to my room and shut the door. Then I tape the curtains against the window. My window needs to be covered, the glass is sorta missing from an… altercation with an ex. Long story short, she threw things and it smashed the window. I’ve told the R.A. about it countless times, but they don’t give a shit. And it’s not like it gets too cold around here anyway. After I tape the window, I climb under my blanket, and put some music on. I doze off quickly after that.
         I wake up when my alarm goes off in the morning. I turn it off, then the music. I usually leave music on all night, it helps me sleep, and sometimes the songs give me really weird dreams. After a quick shower, I eat some cereal and figure out that Leon must have left already. He likes to get to school a bit early. Something about a girl, I don’t know. I grab my bag and head out the door. Even though I technically live on campus, the main building is pretty far away from my dorm, so I usually cut through this patch of grassy woods. It gets me there without having to go all the way around the block. And I also know a guy who-
         “Get the HELL outta here you buncha damn accidents!” I hear shouting from a few feet away, as I walk into a cast iron pot on the ground. “You’re own parents didn’t want ya! Ya think I do!?”
         “Uncle Sam, it’s Max.” I declare. I don’t want him to get his gun again.
         “Max? I don’t know no Max! You better leave-”
         “Max. I gave you that coat last week.”
         “Max…? How ya doin, pal?” This guy…
         “I’m good. But I gotta get going to school, I’ll see you later, Sam.” I hear the old man’s voice call after me as I’m running away.
         “That’s Uncle Sam to you, boy! Respect your elders, yea?” Uncle Sam is this old, permanently-wasted war veteran who lives in those woods. He’s no one’s uncle, he just tells us to call him that. He even built a shelter for himself. He’s pretty cool, I used to give him stuff I’d find around campus, and he’d teach me some self-defense techniques in return. He gets harassed by kids a lot, though. When I arrive at the main building, I see some kids at the bike rack are cutting someone’s bike lock. They take the bike and ride away. I look at the entrance of the hell hole and see some roid monkey’s pushing some younger kid around. They eventually beat the living shit out of that kid, send him to the infirmary. Over to the right, near the big epitaph that reads, “Gifted students, Gifted minds,” there are a few kids smoking and drinking. Just another day at the Revere Academy for Gifted Students. Classes have already started, which is no problem for me, I never go to my first class anyway. I make my way around the left side of the building, and I go around two kids who are, quite literally, at each other’s throats. I find my group of friends-the only normal ones in this place-around the picnic table area.
         “Hey guys,” I say when I’m close.
         “Hey, Max.” Louis greeted me, then Anthony.
         “What’s up, Max?”
         I see Ray, a sort of leader for our group, smoking on a table and I go over to him.
         “Hey, Ray. Listen, I kinda got into some trouble with Russ yesterday,” I wince at the words coming out my mouth. He’s not gonna be happy. I never like disappointing Ray, he’s like my big brother.
         “What the shit… Why? What did you do?” He throws his cigarette on the ground when he asks that.
         “I just twisted his arm a little. He got me a few times too,” I explain, rubbing my sore jaw, hoping that will smooth things over a bit. “He provoked me.”
         “What did he do?”
         “He was pushing Leon around, called him fat and useless.”
         “Max, you gotta learn to swallow you’re impulses. If someone’s calling us names, who gives a shit? Unless you are openly attacked, you keep your fists to yourself.” He was right. I do get carried away sometimes. “You should understand that, especially since what happened earlier this month.” Ray was talking about George, Russ’ brother. On the football field late one night, Ray was ambushed by Russ and George. They fought, and Ray ended up throwing George into the bleachers, which smashed George’s head pretty good. Anyway, George is still in the hospital, major concussion and possible brain damage, and Russ was pissed. Understandably. Eventually, Russ and Ray settled things, preventing some sort of faction war, our group wouldn’t pick fights with the roid monkeys anymore.
         “I know,” I say. “I’m sorry. Just telling you in case Russ and his monkey pals do something.”
         Ray sighed, obviously disappointed. “Don’t worry. I’ll talk to him. If you really want some fun, go screw with the preppies.”
         When I get out of my music class later, Leon’s waiting for me.
         “Hey! Max, I have a great idea. It’ll be so funny,” he chuckles.
         “What? Dude stop laughing it can’t be that great if you came up with it.”
         “Up your’s, dickhead. But seriously, come with me,” Leon starts running away giggling like a little weirdo. But I follow him anyway, he usually has some fun ideas. A few minutes later we’re standing in front of a fleet of silver and white machines. Mitsubishis, Audis, Ferraris, Mercedes, you name it. Leon was heading towards a sleek, silver Rolls-Royce.
         “The preppies’ parking lot?” I say inquisitively. I’m not quite sure what he has in mind.
         “Yea,” Leon explains, clearly excited. “Paul’s car, more specifically.” Leon pulls two knives out of his pocket. Jesus, he looks like a little serial killer. But I can’t help but smile, it’s pretty good. I take a knife and go to the left side of the car. It takes some doing, but after a while, the words “Privileged” and “Asshole” appear on the driver’s door. I walk to the hood of the car, where Leon was, and I break out laughing.
         “Oh my god, that’s great, Leon,” I tell him through bouts of chuckles. Leon is a pretty good artist, so he scratched a big hand on the hood, with an outstretched middle finger.
         “Why thank you, sir,” he says with a flourish. “We should probably go now, before we’re spotted.” I give Leon back his knife, and we go to a table away from the parking lot, but also where we can see what unfolds. The bell rings. Paul exits the building with his clique. He’s laughing and smiling. That fades quickly. Now he’s mad, screaming mad. We can hear him from here, a lot of swearing.
         “Oh man, this is great,” Leon says with a huge grin. “Wait...Hey, what’s that? Do you see that?” Leon asks me as we observe Paul bending over and picking up a small shiny object.
         “Oh, I forgot to tell you,” I explain, “I may have swiped the ‘state champs’ pin off Russ’ jacket yesterday…” I give Leon a sly look. He looks confused, so I elaborate. “I also may have dropped it.” Leon looks at Paul in the distance, then at me, with a really stupid look on his face. “By Paul’s car.” Still, nothing. “...Where we just… Dude, I planted a ‘state champs’ pin by Paul’s car! It’ll look like some roid monkey’s did it!” Finally, Leon’s face resembles that of a lab rat who has just figured out that only when he presses the buzzer can he receive the cheese. “God, you’re slow,” I tell him. He just laughs. He knows. He knows he’s a dumbass.
         “Looks like Paul figured it out,” Leon says, holding back laughter. “He’s marching right up to Russ right now!”
         “You don’t have to narrate this, Leon, I’m right here. I can see what’s happening.” Paul shouts something when he’s ten feet from Russ, and Russ turns around, looking pretty confused. Paul is storming towards Russ and when he gets close enough, he punches Russ in the face.
         “Oh shit!” Leon laughs. I wasn’t laughing. This somehow felt like a better idea in my head, and now that it was unfolding, I had a bad feeling about it. After Paul’s crew held him back, tensions settled and it didn’t take long for Russ to suspect our group. I watched as the roid monkeys and preppies marched toward where my group was hanging out, by the tables.
         “Come on,” I command Leon. “We should be there when this goes down.” Leon stopped laughing moments ago, he knew what conversation must have transpired between Paul and Russ. Ray is going to hate me. Paul and Russ got to Ray before we did, and when Leon and I walked up, I said, “What’s going on?” as innocently as possible.
         “It was you two!” Paul shouted, pointing at Leon and I. “You ruined my car! How the hell am I going to pay for that!?”
         “Well, try calling your Daddy for a raise in your allowance,” Anthony chimed in. “Isn’t that, like, your theme song?”
         “What the hell did you just say?” Paul took a step towards Anthony. Ray was trying to calm everyone down.
         “Anthony, shut up. Paul-”
         “Yeah, Anthony! Shut up!” Paul’s face was getting redder and redder.
         “Hey, listen to me, Paul. You have my word, disciplinary measures will be taken when I find out who did this.” Ray looked at me with such disappointment. He knew.
         “I know who did it! It was these two faggots!” That upset Leon.
         “You know what they say, Paul,” I explained. “‘Karma’s a bitch, but only if you are one.’ I would have thought you’d learned that by now.” Ray pushed me, a gesture that meant ‘cut the shit.’
         “You think you can just get away with this shit, Max?