I walked down the street with a cigarette in my mouth. Just then a car of preps pulled into the drive next to me. I looked at them and took a drag on my cig then bummed it out on the side walk.
"Hey grease ball. Need a haircut. C'mon boys, let's give the grease bag a hair cut." Said Tony Montoya, the leader of the preps.
He and about three other guys hopped out of a Corvette with the top down. I sped up, started to run. Someone grabbed the back of my brown leather jacket and yanked me down. Tony straddled me and brought a haymaker down on my face.
Rodney, Tony's co-leader, pulled out a blade and held it to my head. I felt it cut into my forehead and I yelped a bit. I fought it off for a good while till one of the guys put the toe of his fancy Italian leathers to my head and I was knocked out. I woke up to being slowly bounced up and down. I was getting a piggy-back-ride from my older brother, Jaggar. Gunnar, the oldest and strongest brother, was carryin' a baseball bat. There wasn't any blood on it so I figured he didn't use it. I actually wouldn't have expected him to. He's more of a bloody knuckles guy.
I wiggled out of Jaggar's grip on my legs and hopped down. I walked in front of them trying to look tough as possible.
"Yo, Maverick. You alright?" Jaggar asked me, "I was gonna carry you all the way if ya wanted me to."
"Yea, I know. But I'm fine, really." I said, even though I wasn't. I was on the verge of tears. Everything hurt and I just wanted to go home.
"Wait, Mav," Gunnar wiped the blood off my forehead, "they pull a blade on you?"
"Yea." I said quietly.
I heard Gunnar exhale loudly and I knew what was coming next, the blowup.
"Damnit, Maverick! Don't you ever use your head? You shouldn't be walking alone, its getting late. At least take a blade or something with you. I oughta crack you one, boy!…"
I blocked Gunnar out. He continued on with insults and names and everything under the sun. Gunnar hated me, I knew it. He always had liked Jaggar better. Everything he said to me was pretty much an insult. He always joked and kidded around with Jaggar, but not me. When I tried to mess around with him he told me to just smart up and grow up. That was his motto, for me at least, smart up or grow up.
I got home and crashed on my bed. I took a nice, long, hot shower. My face hit the pillow at a record time of nine P.M. I was never in bed this early, I'd usually hang out on the streets with one of my best friends in our gang, Mick Taylor. He was quiet and reserved just like me. I guess that's how we got along. We don't like fighting, but'll do it if we have to.
Jaggar jumped on my bed and wrestled me to the floor the next morning.
"Gang's goin' gown to Dino's for some lunch. Care to join us, Mavie boy?"
I grunted trying to get up and get myself moving, "Mhm, yea, sure. Gimme a sec."
I threw on some dark jeans, a tight white T-shirt, and my brown jacket. I smeared my hair with some grease. Then I ran out to lot outside our house to meet the crew. We're such a random bunch of guys.
Ace Dodgely, the craziest guy of the bunch, was always wearing a blue jeans jacket and a Ratt T-shirt with the sleeves cut off. His hair was black and wiry, but he kept it down with grease. He always joked around and messed with us. He kept us up when we were feelin' down. He was about sixteen or seventeen.
Then there was Jon-Jon McLane, the roughest, toughest guy in the bunch. Don't mess around with him or you'll get the tar beat outta ya. He had a sensitive side, or so I've heard. I, nor any of the other guys, haven't seen it, I don't think. He had killed people, been to jail, robbed stores, and jumped people. He was okay to me. But I didn't expect him to be really nice. He was about twenty, the oldest behind Gunnar.
Then Mick Taylor, my best friend. He was fifteen, a year older than me. He was quiet, reserved. His parents really hated him and we gave him all the love in the world so he could be like one of us and feel loved. He was lucky, my parents left us one day without any warning, haven't seen or heard from 'em since.