"Dangit boy, get out of my house!"
"I'm your son! I live here too; you can't kick me out!"
"I don't have a son! I have a good-for-nothing lazy bum who sleeps in my house! You ain't worth nothing; now get out!"
The audible sound of hitting was heard, followed by glass breaking and a loud string of curses. There was a second hit, followed by a startled sounding yelp and some more curses. A door slammed, and all went quiet again. A moment later, a boy walked out of the apartment building.
He was lean and cat-like, with spiked blond-brown hair that fell into his normally soft aqua-green eyes, which now danced and burned with an uncontrolled anger. His fists were shoved into the pockets of his blue-jean jacket. Underneath it he had on a white and blue shirt and a pair of faded blue jeans that sported a hole in one knee. His sneakers were worn with use, soles flapping, laces coming untied.
His walk wasn't quite that; it was more the low, slinky prowl of an alley cat that hadn't had enough to eat. His head was down and his posture defensive. A Yankees ball cap almost but not quite hid a swelling eye and a trickle of blood running down the side of his face. His lip was cut and swelling as well, and numerous bruises, most faded or yellowing, were visible on his face.
"Hey! Joey!"
He turned at the sound of his name. Headed towards him was an old friend of his, Honda. "Hey." He called back, and stopped, waiting for his friend to catch up. They walked for a bit in silence. Joey stole a glance at his friend. Honda was good looking, with sharply spiked brown hair and penetrating chestnut eyes. He was wearing old, faded blue jeans, much like Joey's own, and a brown leather jacket. While he still had the street thug look, there was more to it than that. Honda possessed an aura of dignity and confidence that just kind of portrayed him...one that read I'll trust you, but cross me and die. Joey shook his head silently. How he came across such a friend, he would never know, but there he was. Honda looked over at his friend and nudged him, looking slightly questioningly at the dried trickle of blood on his friend's face. Joey glanced at Honda.
"Yeah?"
"You get into it again with the old man?"
"Yeah."
"Man, Joey, why do you put up with this crap? One call to the police and it would stop."
"I can't do that."
"And why not? What have you got to lose?"
"My apartment-"
"You can stay with us."
"My father-"
"Who you never liked in the first place."
"And my dignity."
"You're a street thug, like me! How much dignity can you have?"
"Enough that I don't want to be seen anywhere near the cops."
Honda grabbed him by the sleeve and pulled him to the side of the walk so they could talk easier. "Joey, that's not the reason and you know it. Now, part of being friends is communicating. What's up? Talk to me."
"It's nothing."
"Dude, yes, it is. You skip school so the teachers won't ask about the bruises, you're dead near anorexic 'cause you try to save money by not eating, and you sleep on the streets every other night! I'm amazed you haven't been shot!"
"Look, what does it matter? I'm alive and not planning to change that anytime soon."
"It matters because you're my buddy and you're being hurt!"
"It's nothing I can't take! And it's not like I didn't earn it; dead near everything he's ever yelled at me is true! I am useless, I am a bum, I ain't good for anything-,"
"Shut up!"
Joey jerked slightly. While he got yelled at constantly at home, his buddy had never raised his voice before, not at him.
"You're not worthless, you're not a bum, you're not any of that crap!"
"And how would you know?!"
"BECAUSE I'M YOUR FRIEND!!" He bellowed. "I don't pick worthless friends!"
"Then why am I here?!"
"Joey, stop it!" He took a deep breath and tried to lower his voice. "Look man, I don't know what kind of bull your old man is feeding you, but it's not true. You're a great guy, a good friend, one heck of a mechanic, and my buddy. That means something, weather you realize it or not. Now what you need to do is get some help. That counselor lady at school." He waved his hand dismissively. "Go talk to her. She ranted about for half an hour straight about this kind of thing once in class. Said something about...ah, crap, what did she call it? An action plan, and goal setting, or something like that." He made the dismissive gesture again. "What ever. Go talk to her. She'll get this sorted out."
"No."
"What?! Dude, didn't you just hear my thirteen-sentence long rant? Why not?"
Joey looked defensively at his friend, shoulders squared and muscles tensed. "Look, Honda, it's great to know that there's somebody around that gives a flip I'm alive. Really, it is. But he's my dad, and no matter how much I hate him, I gotta protect him." He glanced downward and muttered, "He's the only family I got left."
Honda let silence reign, knowing the story behind the statement. Almost six years ago, when Joey was just ten, he had a little sister named Serenity who adored him, and vice verse. Eventually, though, his mother had gotten sick of his father being drunk all the time, so she took Serenity and split. He hadn't heard from them since, and he missed her like crazy. He had a picture of her that he kept in his wallet. She was pretty, with smiling brown eyes and long strawberry-blond hair. In the picture she was wearing a white blouse under a pink vest and was making a peace sign at the camera. Yeah, family was important to Joey, more so now that over half of it was gone.
Joey finally broke the silence. "Look, I need you to promise me you won't call the cops on us, alright?"
"Joey..."
"Please."
Honda sighed. It went against his good judgment and would kill his reputation as being the sensible one, but Joey was his best friend. "Alright. I won't say a word. Promise. But you need to."
Joey nodded, satisfied, and turned to leave.
"But Joey..." He stopped but didn't turn,
"Just remember that no matter what happens..." He trailed off again, unsure of his wording and feeling distinctly un-masculine, "Well...we always got a spare bunk at our place. If you should need it."
This time he did turn, and shot a grin out from under his ball cap. The swelling eye didn't quite mask the gratitude shining in his eyes, and the sincerity in it showed through the mask of defense that Joey normally wore. "Thanks, man." His buddy said, then walked off and soon was lost to the crowded streets of the city.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
ooh, see the wavy sparkly line of doom? It's right there ^. See it? Yeah. Randomness. This was actually a Wellness class assignment. "Write a short story about a person who starts with low self-esteem and ends with high(er) self-esteem." I picked Joey. For those of you who were wondering why I had the manga version of Tristan's (Honda) name and the anime version of Joey (Jouchin), it's because there's a girl named Tristan in my class (and I like Honda better anyway) and the day my class understands even faint Japanese implications is the day I marry Norbert. (HP& tsS). Ok. Explanations are over. I know it's not real good, so you're welcome to complain if it gives you pleasure. I'll just ignore criticism and go and review 1 story for you nice people who review. Oh, yeah, almost forgot. I don't own YGO. Ok, think that's all. Luv u! -Ishizu
"I'm your son! I live here too; you can't kick me out!"
"I don't have a son! I have a good-for-nothing lazy bum who sleeps in my house! You ain't worth nothing; now get out!"
The audible sound of hitting was heard, followed by glass breaking and a loud string of curses. There was a second hit, followed by a startled sounding yelp and some more curses. A door slammed, and all went quiet again. A moment later, a boy walked out of the apartment building.
He was lean and cat-like, with spiked blond-brown hair that fell into his normally soft aqua-green eyes, which now danced and burned with an uncontrolled anger. His fists were shoved into the pockets of his blue-jean jacket. Underneath it he had on a white and blue shirt and a pair of faded blue jeans that sported a hole in one knee. His sneakers were worn with use, soles flapping, laces coming untied.
His walk wasn't quite that; it was more the low, slinky prowl of an alley cat that hadn't had enough to eat. His head was down and his posture defensive. A Yankees ball cap almost but not quite hid a swelling eye and a trickle of blood running down the side of his face. His lip was cut and swelling as well, and numerous bruises, most faded or yellowing, were visible on his face.
"Hey! Joey!"
He turned at the sound of his name. Headed towards him was an old friend of his, Honda. "Hey." He called back, and stopped, waiting for his friend to catch up. They walked for a bit in silence. Joey stole a glance at his friend. Honda was good looking, with sharply spiked brown hair and penetrating chestnut eyes. He was wearing old, faded blue jeans, much like Joey's own, and a brown leather jacket. While he still had the street thug look, there was more to it than that. Honda possessed an aura of dignity and confidence that just kind of portrayed him...one that read I'll trust you, but cross me and die. Joey shook his head silently. How he came across such a friend, he would never know, but there he was. Honda looked over at his friend and nudged him, looking slightly questioningly at the dried trickle of blood on his friend's face. Joey glanced at Honda.
"Yeah?"
"You get into it again with the old man?"
"Yeah."
"Man, Joey, why do you put up with this crap? One call to the police and it would stop."
"I can't do that."
"And why not? What have you got to lose?"
"My apartment-"
"You can stay with us."
"My father-"
"Who you never liked in the first place."
"And my dignity."
"You're a street thug, like me! How much dignity can you have?"
"Enough that I don't want to be seen anywhere near the cops."
Honda grabbed him by the sleeve and pulled him to the side of the walk so they could talk easier. "Joey, that's not the reason and you know it. Now, part of being friends is communicating. What's up? Talk to me."
"It's nothing."
"Dude, yes, it is. You skip school so the teachers won't ask about the bruises, you're dead near anorexic 'cause you try to save money by not eating, and you sleep on the streets every other night! I'm amazed you haven't been shot!"
"Look, what does it matter? I'm alive and not planning to change that anytime soon."
"It matters because you're my buddy and you're being hurt!"
"It's nothing I can't take! And it's not like I didn't earn it; dead near everything he's ever yelled at me is true! I am useless, I am a bum, I ain't good for anything-,"
"Shut up!"
Joey jerked slightly. While he got yelled at constantly at home, his buddy had never raised his voice before, not at him.
"You're not worthless, you're not a bum, you're not any of that crap!"
"And how would you know?!"
"BECAUSE I'M YOUR FRIEND!!" He bellowed. "I don't pick worthless friends!"
"Then why am I here?!"
"Joey, stop it!" He took a deep breath and tried to lower his voice. "Look man, I don't know what kind of bull your old man is feeding you, but it's not true. You're a great guy, a good friend, one heck of a mechanic, and my buddy. That means something, weather you realize it or not. Now what you need to do is get some help. That counselor lady at school." He waved his hand dismissively. "Go talk to her. She ranted about for half an hour straight about this kind of thing once in class. Said something about...ah, crap, what did she call it? An action plan, and goal setting, or something like that." He made the dismissive gesture again. "What ever. Go talk to her. She'll get this sorted out."
"No."
"What?! Dude, didn't you just hear my thirteen-sentence long rant? Why not?"
Joey looked defensively at his friend, shoulders squared and muscles tensed. "Look, Honda, it's great to know that there's somebody around that gives a flip I'm alive. Really, it is. But he's my dad, and no matter how much I hate him, I gotta protect him." He glanced downward and muttered, "He's the only family I got left."
Honda let silence reign, knowing the story behind the statement. Almost six years ago, when Joey was just ten, he had a little sister named Serenity who adored him, and vice verse. Eventually, though, his mother had gotten sick of his father being drunk all the time, so she took Serenity and split. He hadn't heard from them since, and he missed her like crazy. He had a picture of her that he kept in his wallet. She was pretty, with smiling brown eyes and long strawberry-blond hair. In the picture she was wearing a white blouse under a pink vest and was making a peace sign at the camera. Yeah, family was important to Joey, more so now that over half of it was gone.
Joey finally broke the silence. "Look, I need you to promise me you won't call the cops on us, alright?"
"Joey..."
"Please."
Honda sighed. It went against his good judgment and would kill his reputation as being the sensible one, but Joey was his best friend. "Alright. I won't say a word. Promise. But you need to."
Joey nodded, satisfied, and turned to leave.
"But Joey..." He stopped but didn't turn,
"Just remember that no matter what happens..." He trailed off again, unsure of his wording and feeling distinctly un-masculine, "Well...we always got a spare bunk at our place. If you should need it."
This time he did turn, and shot a grin out from under his ball cap. The swelling eye didn't quite mask the gratitude shining in his eyes, and the sincerity in it showed through the mask of defense that Joey normally wore. "Thanks, man." His buddy said, then walked off and soon was lost to the crowded streets of the city.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
ooh, see the wavy sparkly line of doom? It's right there ^. See it? Yeah. Randomness. This was actually a Wellness class assignment. "Write a short story about a person who starts with low self-esteem and ends with high(er) self-esteem." I picked Joey. For those of you who were wondering why I had the manga version of Tristan's (Honda) name and the anime version of Joey (Jouchin), it's because there's a girl named Tristan in my class (and I like Honda better anyway) and the day my class understands even faint Japanese implications is the day I marry Norbert. (HP& tsS). Ok. Explanations are over. I know it's not real good, so you're welcome to complain if it gives you pleasure. I'll just ignore criticism and go and review 1 story for you nice people who review. Oh, yeah, almost forgot. I don't own YGO. Ok, think that's all. Luv u! -Ishizu