literature

24 Hours: chap. 4

Deviation Actions

ecroumancer's avatar
By
Published:
804 Views

Literature Text

It was raining after school the next day, typical for that time of year in South Park. With a few days of freedom ahead of him, Georgie walked out of the school building, umbrella over head and frown spread across his painted lips. The weekend usually meant that he'd be at home because his mother was most likely not going to let him leave and hang out with his friends. He would be expected to spend time with his family or something. On Sunday they would attend church just like the other conformist families in the town and he'd be forced to wear nice, much less dark clothing. The thought made him want to lash out right then and there on the street while the other kids leaving in the same direction pointed and gawked. Instead, he pressed his teeth together in a grind and imagined them shattering into tiny little bits of tooth sand. All he wanted at the moment was to listen to something angry, something he could relate to but, of course, the batteries of his CD player were dead. On weekends, Georgie wanted to be like the batteries that powered his source of music. Lifeless. He had thought of possible methods for sneaking out of the house before, of course, but the only way he could think of that didn't involve leaving his room could only work if the snow wasn't there to expose his footprints. The palm of his hand poked out from underneath the black fabric of his umbrella to touch the falling water droplets. If the rain continued long enough it would integrate into the snow and form the kind of slushy puddles in the backyard that he could climb out of his window and run through without leaving a trace. His head felt as if it were stirring, dizzy and heavy, as he looked upwards at the grey skies above. It was time for a smoke.

"Hey, kid!" a voice yelled from behind him. His free hand had crept into the side pocket of his trench coat, grasping at his Marlboro carton, wanting to pull it out and light a cigarette. He didn't, however, and simply turned to see if it was somebody talking to him or not. He pulled his black hair back to see with both eyes and saw a shiny hybrid car pulling up beside him. He stopped for a second but, fearing that it might be just some jerk wanting to call him an "emo queer" or something unoriginal like that, he turned his head away and proceeded to walk forward. The sound of the rain beating against the hood of the car beside him made ringing noises in his head and this time he couldn't drown the sound of the water with his music. The driver pounded against the metal door with his palm, still calling out, "hey!"

Georgie stopped walking and turned to face the car. He twirled the handle of the umbrella that he held and analyzed the person pestering him. It was a teenager, wearing a green hat. Something about him was familiar and he assumed that it was because he looked about his friends' age, therefore, he was in their grade as well. The driver sat back in his seat and something compelled the young goth to move closer to investigate. He leaned forward to get a better look and noticed that the Canadian boy in his class was sitting in the passenger's seat. Ike Broflovski? He grumbled, straightening his back and staring down the driver. It was probably Ike's older brother sitting behind the wheel. "What?" Georgie shook water from his umbrella.

"You heading down this direction?" the teenager asked. What a stupid question. Of course, if he was walking this way he would be heading down this direction. After a moment of wondering about the question at hand, Georgie nodded.

"Need a ride?" the older teenager asked. For a second, the boy rubbed the skin under his eye to make sure his purple eye shadow wasn't running down his cheek with the water that wasn't hitting his face. He looked away, down the road, and shrugged. The other boy in the passenger seat was groaning something, whining, and facing outside of the opposite window. His arms were folded and he wore the light blue colored jacket that he was wearing earlier that day and the day before. He seemed tortured as though his brother was doing something horrible to him like stabbing him with an invisible knife. Why not torture the poor soul even more? Without his music, the goth was doomed for boredom the long way home anyways. Georgie nodded once again and said, "I guess."

The older Broflovski motioned toward the backseat with his thumb and the goth yanked the door open, putting one foot in, shaking the umbrella closed, and finally slumped into the middle seat. The door was slammed closed behind him as he breathed in the warm air blasting from the heater. He faced the driver and mumbled, "Um, thanks?" The older boy looked behind him for a brief moment, staring out the back window and not looking at Georgie, before deeming it safe to turn back onto the road. Georgie shifted a bit to keep his balance before realizing that he'd forgotten to put on his seat belt. Not that he cared much. His gaze drifted between each tiny object in the squeaky clean car; from a magazine in the back pocket of one of the seats, to a plastic fast food cup in the cup holder, to the tacky evergreen tree-shaped air freshener dangling from the mirror, and after leaning forward more, settled on Ike. The other 8th grader had his arms folded under the baggy sleeves of his blue hoodie. His lip jutted out in a pout, like he was trying to avoid speaking.

"No problem. It was Ike's idea. I'm his brother, Kyle." the driver finally answered the goth's meek attempt at showing gratitude.

"I know. I remember you." Georgie said immediately. He muttered, "aren't you the 11th grader who despises anything dark and non-conforming?"

"Yes, well..." what a pleasant child, "Um, where do you live?"

"Hansen Road." The goth replied, watching the windshield wipers plowing small pools of water out of the way.

"That's a few blocks past us." Kyle drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. They were driving through the main road, passing the pharmacy and Tom's Rhinoplasty that had surprisingly stayed in business over the past few years.

Georgie grunted in response. He looked out the window at the business establishments for a few moments before leaning back in his seat. The car had become too warm for him and he peeled his trench coat off, setting it aside and his school bag in his lap. On his lips grew a shy smile. "So, um... Ike," he elongated the first letter of the others name, "this was your idea? How kind of you." There was involuntary sarcasm in his voice that made Ike flinch. Georgie hadn't meant for his words to sound hostile but he waited for the boy to start talking anyway.

"It was his idea." Ike blurted out. He gripped the fabric of his hood tighter around his head, pulling it down. "He wants me to be some sort of social butterfly." His tone threw daggers at his brother, who looked at him with wide eyes.

"Oh, well..." the goth stared at his painted fingernails. "A social arachnid wouldn't be as enjoyable. Anyways, thank you, whichever one of you decided to pick up a stray rat from the streets. My descent into madness won't be as slow and painful now." He meant it as a joke but noticed the way Kyle reacted, he had brought a nail to his teeth and chewed off a corner before placing his hand back down on the wheel and tightening his grip. Some people didn't understand a goth's sense of humor and Georgie shrugged it off, fixing his eyes on the road before them. The car made a left, bringing forth a lingering silence to the confined space. Georgie rested his elbow on his knee and held his head in the palm of his hand. The rain beat down hard against the metal roof just like it was supposed to. Rain conformed to the laws of gravity, just like everything else.

"The weather is weird." the Canadian boy huffed. The other two stared at him as though he'd said his first word. "No, really, it was nice yesterday but today it's just crappy." He released his hold on his hood and let his hands fall in his lap. A wet maple leaf hit the windshield and was quickly carried away by the plastic wipers. The large drops of rain had become smaller, less frequent dots.

"I like the rain." Georgie objected. He blew a strand of hair out of his face. "But I like the snow more."

"Me too." Ike said, slightly bothered by the blow of air in his direction.

"Il neige ici beaucoup." The goth pulled his hair back.

"Is that more French?" Ike turned his head to face the back seat. The other boy nodded and his black bangs fell back into his face with ease. "What did you say?"

"I said it snows here a lot. I'm not that good with elaborate sentences." Georgie replied, flipping his hair away much like the way his older friend had always done.

"How do you know French?" the teenage driver suddenly asked. They had stopped at a stop sign where a mother and her two young girls crossed the street. The girls wore matching pink rain boots and splashed in puddles with carefree giggles. The mother, as well as the young goth in the car, was not amused.

"From my parents." the boy informed. "They lived in France at one point but moved to this shit hole."

"That's kind of cool..." Ike scratched at his neck, leaving long pink streaks behind on his skin. The car lunged forward again and made its way through the more suburban part of the town, past house after house. By the time they were on the Brofslovskis' street, the rain had died down and was nothing more than a little early autumn sprinkle. Kyle had stopped the hybrid in front of a dark green two-floored house. The snow in the front yard had become a thick layer of slush. A group of sparrows bickered in the bushes surrounding the house's perimeter and a few had taken to bathing themselves in small puddles. Beside the short pathway to the front door was a driveway with a mid sized van resting in it.

Kyle turned around in his seat, one arm still holding onto the wheel as he spoke. "Sorry, um, Kindergoth." he didn't seem sure of what to call the young boy sitting in the backseat. "I don't think I have time to drive any farther than here. My shift at work begins in, like, four minutes. Can you manage walking the rest of the way?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." the boy's darkened eyes grew thin in a glare and he got out quickly enough to drag his messenger bag out and slam the car door behind him within ten seconds. He didn't notice Ike's eyes following him before the other boy turned to his older brother and frowned. Kyle's expression asked what his deal was and the Canadian shrugged, climbing out with his own backpack and closing the door behind him. He stepped back onto the concrete sidewalk before suddenly turning and tapping on the window. His brother held down a button that controlled the level of the window. Ike leaned forward and stuck his head back inside. Georgie tapped the soles of his worn shoes on the concrete sidewalk and crossed his arms. He raised an eyebrow and tried to hear what the two were conversing about but couldn't over the sound of the obnoxious windshield wipers that continued to go up and down, up and down.

"You don't have work today. What are you doing?" Even though Ike whispered the question, it came out more whiny than he intended.

"Helping you be more of a 'social butterfly.' I dunno, dude, hang out with the kid or something. I have to go pick something up for Dad." Kyle started rolling up the glass window.

"Wait!" Ike said frantically. He glared at the teenager and said through the remaining space between the passenger window and the rim of the car door, "you're a jerk, you know that?"

Kyle grinned and sent his own little glare towards his little brother. "Play nice, okay?" His tone was completely sarcastic and brotherly like it had always been when they talked. Ike rolled his eyes and stepped back once again to watch the car turn back onto the street. He adjusted the weight on his shoulder from the bag that dangled from it and turned to face Georgie standing a few feet away, rubbing his hands against his sleeved arms. His teeth bit into the bottom of his dark violet lip. One of his hands rose up and flipped off the silver vehicle driving away.

"H-he called me Kindergoth. He still calls me Kindergoth." he muttered, bringing the defeated hand back down to his side. The words were more to himself than to Ike. He grumbled, louder this time, "Shit, I left my jacket in the back seat!"

"U-um... he'll be back soon." Ike mumbled. He watched as the smaller boy strained his neck and bit harder into his bottom lip. Purple residue stuck to his front teeth. He pulled his hair back and began digging through the bag at his hip. "We could, uh... go inside and wait or something?"

"No!" the goth shouted and threw crumbled paper after paper on the ground to be consumed by the watered down snow. He sighed loudly, suddenly coughing, and groaned, "my smokes, dude. I haven't had one since lunch and my pack is in my coat. I need one." His fingers dug around at the bottom of the bag underneath his notebooks. Without his jacket, Ike observed, the boy's arms were thin and the black fabric of his shirt clung to each one. The cloth was thin itself and didn't seem to be keeping the goth warm. Just looking at him made Ike shiver under his own hoodie.

A moment of panic later and the goth pulled a thin white cylinder out. One end was an orange color and flakes of some dried plant fell out of the other. It was, obviously, a cigarette. The boy fumbled around, pulling out a plastic lighter from his back pocket, dropping it and cursing before he was actually able to pick it up and light the white end of the stick. Ike stared at the tiny flame that made the cigarette burn. Georgie sucked in the smoke and a second later, a euphoric expression graced his face. The Canadian had expected the other to choke and cough up a lung after he had taken the first long drag from the paper stick but he had instead gracefully released smoke from puckered lips as if it were habitual. But of course it was habitual. Needing a cigarette only implied that he was, in fact, a smoker. The pungent smell of the smoke filled Ike's nostrils and gave him a gag reflex.

"Can you be careful with that?" Ike waved the grey stream away from his face. "I think my mom might be able to see you from the window." Ike pointed towards the window beside the door of his house where the blinds were shut. He held his sleeve up to his face and squinted at the goth. Smoke from the end of the paper and the boy's mouth floated into the cold air that stung his face. It felt as though all of the information that Ike knew about the effects of cigarette smoke poured into him, making him want to swat the "cancer stick" away for the sake of both of their health. Georgie shooed him away with a gloved hand and turned so that his back was to the house and his face wasn't visible. Ike nervously looked back at the window and saw one of the plastic blinds move slightly as though someone were looking through them. His head returned to face the goth boy whose hands covered the burning cigarette. "Please?"

"What do you want me to do, put it out?" Georgie snapped back, cigarette bobbing between his dark lips.

Ike confirmed by nodding his head, "yes."

"Buzzkill," the goth rolled his eyes and spat the fag out and onto the ground, kicking it clear across the street after a moment of remorsefully staring at it on the wet concrete. The paper stick rolled into a puddle and the flame was dowsed. Georgie's shoulders tensed under the weight of his bag and he faced Ike, pointing a finger at his chest. "I can't leave until I get my jacket back." the finger that pointed at the others chest jabbed at him and Georgie's eyes stared him down. There was a tiny pimple forming on Ike's cheek.

"Is it important?"

"Well, it's not for sentimental reasons or anything." he replied with nasally sarcasm. "I left my cigarettes in my pocket, like I said."

Ike, either replying with a quiet "okay" or standing there with nothing to say, turned towards the street his brother had driven down. The rain that had become a drizzle had picked up again and little water drops splashed against the puddles on the street. He contemplated why they were still standing outside when both of them showed disdain towards rain of any kind. Reason # 1 was because they had reached another awkward situation, reason # 2 was that Georgie was practically dumped on him and he wasn't sure what to do, and reason # 3, the least likely of the three, was that the goth was secretly not a goth but a douchey vampire kid instead and needed to be invited inside before he could actually enter the house. And Ike was 96% sure that they were going to end up hanging out at his house anyway thanks to his "helpful" brother.

Before the Canadian could think of ways to rag on Kyle when he got home, the shorter boy coughed and caught his attention. "You got any coffee?"

"Um... yeah, I think so."

And before any objections could be made, Georgie was making his way up the driveway to the front door. Ike watched him with uncertainty but, seeing as though his mother inside would be terrified by anyone like Georgie walking inside their door unescorted, trotted up beside him and grabbed his keys from his front pants pocket.
Part 1 of this chapter, which would be much longer had I not broken it into parts.

There's a list of reasons (excuses) for the hiatus on this story but I'm not going to go into it right now.

COMMENT. Now.

Meh. Too lazy at the moment for further explanation.

also, listen to the song Morning Bell by Radiohead. Lovely song it is. :>
© 2011 - 2024 ecroumancer
Comments8
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
demonicdrama's avatar
Mm, this is looking amusing. 8>