I should be writing one of my real stories right now...oh well. Here's a little oneshot about an adventure two boys had long, long ago, before anyone died. Paul Holden and Darryl Curtis were good friends… DISCLAIMER: I own none of the characters except the meaningless extra last names thrown in. Anyone you recognize is not mine.
Past Lives
(It's one o' clock in the morning. All is dark in the Curtis household, except for in the eldest's room, where a small bedside lamp is on. Darryl sits on the edge of his bed, holding a phone to his ear. It's obvious he's in the middle of a conversation.)
"Tell me you're not serious."
"I'm damn serious."
"No, you're drunk."
"You know straight I'm sober."
"Prove it."
"I don't have to, you know I'm sober."
"You can't be. Man, you come up with this freakin' crazy plan at one in the morning, you call me, and you have the gall to tell me you're actually gonna pull it off. You, Holden, are drunk. I don't know how you got drunk, I don't know where you are, but you are drunk. Take some Tylenol and call me tomorrow morning so you can apologize to my parents for wakin' em up."
"No. No. Curtis, listen to me, man. We'll be famous for the rest of our lives for this. Come on. I got half the rest of the team on my side for this."
"You called everybody else before you called me?"
"Yeah, I knew you'd be the hardest to convince."
"I ain't worried 'bout that, I'm worried about how half of Tulsa is awake now because you had a little too much Captain!"
"Hey, man, calm down. Don' worry, it'll be great. C'mon. You know you wanna do this. You know. We will be immortal."
"……"
"Curtis? You still there?"
"…Yeah, I'm here. You can count me in, too."
"Yes!"
-----
(One week later, twelve boys walk into a small restaurant in assorted groups. It takes over a half an hour for everyone to assemble, and Paul Holden and Darryl Curtis are among the first to arrive.)
Paul and Darryl shared conspiratory glances. Regardless of how many members of the football team Paul had called before him, he had only shared the entirety of the plan with Darry, his lifelong buddy. Darry nodded briefly to Paul, and he stood.
"Ladies and gentlemen."
"Say that again, Holden."
"I'm not talking about you. We're not sure about Curtis, here. Oh…sorry Dar, I was supposed to keep that a secret." Clapping and laughter broke out, and Darry had a laugh, too. "Here's the plan," Paul continued once the ruckus had died down. He looked all around for any signs of teacherly presence before continuing in such a low voice that most of the team had to lean in from seats at the four tables they'd pressed together. "I am obscenely proud to present to you, from the minds of Weastside Productions, the greatest prank ever pulled by a freshman football team in the history of the universe. We-" He sat down, a devilish grin spreading across his handsome face, and tipped his chair back, putting his feet up casually on the table. His fingers steepled and he looked over them at his assembled army. "Are going to shut down school for one continuous and complete day at Tulsa High."
Faces around the table registered varying degrees of shock and awe, except, of course, for the two visages at the head of the table. By this time, both were grinning smugly. Silence falls for a few seconds, but neither troublemaker is concerned. They know this team well, and they know that the idea will be raved about. Ray Finke is the first to recover.
"It can't be done." But he's beaming in a way that he says he's dying to be proved wrong.
"Oh, but it can," Darry murmured slyly. "Wait till you hear this plan, and then you tell me it can't be done." The attention of the teenage mob turned back to Paul.
"Here's the deal. We're going to call into the radio stations saying that there's been a gas leak in the school. Now, they require a password for that. You know, to confirm that it's a real thing, and not some kids pulling a kamikaze prank." Paul paused again to let the chuckles die down.
"It just so happens that my girlfriend, some of you know her, Susie Carlton, sweet girl, has a mother. And this mother is a secretary to the principal. And this secretary has agreed to send along the password and keep her mouth shut about what takes place."
"The password, my brothers, is…" Darry took the lead, just like they'd rehearsed, pulling a slip of paper painfully slow. "Labrador retriever. Swear to God."
"Labrador? C'mon Curtis, that's the randomest password I ever heard!"
"Yeah, it's gotta be fake."
"First off, randomest ain't a word. Second, yeah it is."
"How do you know?"
"Just trust me."
"Guys! It's the real password." Paul picked up the pace again. He knew they had little time to plan. "Here's the deal. We're twelve men strong, counting me and Curtis here. We do this tomorrow night. Now, we've got several things to do, so we need a bunch of groups. I'm thinking four groups of three oughtta do it.
"Group one blocks off the parking lot. Now, Curtis' dad's whipped up some sawhorses and painted em to look like roadblocks. So this group's got Curtis in it, and you guys take his pickup over to his house and get the blocks, load em in the back, bring em down to the school and block off both ends of the parking lot.
"Group two and group three stick together until later. I'll lead group three, because I'll get the keys Susie's mom. That's how we get in. Group two gets the letters for the marquee sign in front of the school and changes it to read 'SCHOOL CLOSED 13/4 FOR REPAIRS'. They bring the letters back in and leave them right where they found em. Group three, meanwhile, calls the radio station to relay the message. That's all they have to do, and the other two sit lookout.
"Group four. You guys are the icing on the cake. I want you to go through the school and pull random pranks and crap in all the classrooms. Write on the blackboards, turn desks upside down, throw books around, do whatever you find hilarious enough to do." Darry again began to speak, to allow his friend to catch his breath.
"Those of us with the biggest records will show up at school the next day. There have to be a few kids who don't get the message and show up, and some of us have to be in that group. That'll be Holden, Finke, Allan, Warrek, and King. Oh, and Holden forgot to mention. We'll be pulling all of this off starting at twelve o' clock midnight. We have to be done and gone by one. Tomorrow night, set your alarms, make sure you can get out of the house. Meet the rest of your group and walk to the school-walk. No one will need a car but my group, and I'll bring it to the school."
"Why?" Warrek had to speak his piece.
"It'll be easier that way. Just trust me. Can we do it?" A chorus of "Yes!" rang out. "Good. Take a vow of silence, friends. He who snitches will be killed." Darry's grim face was so somber it was obvious he was joking. But the team raised glasses to toast the plan and then took a vow of silence over the most important object in any fifteen year old male's world-the one thing that could silence them all and make them honor the pact on their lives. It was a worn, torn, grass-stained and dirt-covered football. They swore without regret. They swore without hesitation. They swore with absolute solemnity. Because it would be a sin to say they did not participate in this prank of pranks a few years down the road. And it would also be a sin to be known as the one who sold the rest out.
-----
(The night is deep and quiet. Every soul in Tulsa sleeps…except for a select twelve. These twelve are doing their best to give everyone they know something pleasant to wake up to tomorrow morning.)
Darryl's alarm had woken him. He dressed down in dark jeans and a black shirt and fired up the truck. Inside his house, Darryl Sr. and his wife were woken, but the father simply smiled and told his panicked wife to go back to sleep-he knew exactly what he would hear over the radio tomorrow morning.
Darryl pulled up to the school and drew a walkie-talkie out of his pocket.
"Holden? Are you on-campus?"
"Yep. Come over to the meeting place, everyone is here but you and Coote."
"Alright, I'm on my way. Is my group ready?"
"Uh-huh." Darry made his way stealthily to the large pine tree near the back entrance of the school. Coote never showed, but no one was concerned-he was a bit of a flake and had been put on Paul's team in case something like this happened. The eleven players fanned out in their groups, going their separate ways but always staying in-touch by use of walkie-talkies. They regrouped forty-five minutes later near the tree to check status.
"Group one, present. Completed with perfect stealth."
"Groups two and three done. No suspicion."
"Group four here, classrooms trashed. All according to plan." Paul shook each man's hand.
"Well done. Coote missed out. Everyone go and get a good night's sleep, for those of us to report to school, you know who you are. The rest of you, have a nice day tomorrow. Do some homework for once, Benson." Chuckles and exchanges of triumphant congratulation faded into the night as everyone went home to sleep the best sleep they'd ever had.
-----
Darryl smiles in spite of himself in the dim light of the lot. They never were caught for that prank, although it did go down in the record books for the best prank ever pulled at Tulsa High School. Coote did miss out-it turned out he was harshly grounded that night.
He drags himself with a heavy heart back to the present and focuses on the weaving target before him-old Paul himself. The bitter sense of loss washes over him-it's nothing new; he feels it every time he sees a familiar face right before he puts his fist through it.
This is, after all, war. It tears people apart. He just wishes sadly that things could've turned out better. Maybe he and Paul could be laughing over their great escapade right now, instead of scowling at each other in this movie-scene perfect night.
Both are distracted for a moment by a feral yell-Dallas Winston runs into the lot, full speed, and the fight explodes around them. Darryl sighs inwardly-Dallas always had a knack for bringing chaos in his wake. He looks at Paul, his old friend, and claims the first punch. After all, that night was in a past life, and no one stays alive by reminiscing.
Hope you all liked it, I couldn't sleep and I've been harboring this idea for a while. What'd you think of the ending? XD Pretty random… Final completion time: 12:24, US Central. Review, and thanks!
PS: to all those who think "Weastside Productions" is a typo, consider the sides of town the two ringleaders are from. Yes, it's a witty play on the rivalry-Paul came up with it. This was back before they took it seriously, of course.
-tIGRE