"…In my minds eye, my thoughts light fires in your cities"
-Charles Manson on the Tate-LaBianca murders.
Chapter 1.
I dreamt of smoke and fumes. Of naked, twisting bodies while music pounded through my blood. Laughter like battle cries filling the room while I moved in slow motion, colors smeared across my eyes. I met mouths with my lips, not knowing who they belonged to as I moved through the room, flashing lights blinding my eyes. A hand clapped me on the back as I walked; I was pushed back against a wall, a mouth on mine. I tasted cherry lip gloss and Vodka. I nodded to Kevin who looked up from licking a line of salt off of some girl's stomach as she bent over a chair. All the bodies around me were jumping, twisting, dancing and rubbing against each other as I walked through them, inhaling the smoke as I did. Everything moved in time with my lazy heart, my drugged senses distorting limbs and faces. A hand touched my back and slid over my shoulder to my chest; I stopped moving through the molasses and saw her. Her skin was sparkling under the neon lights; the fake, long white eyelashes she stuck on brushed my jaw as she pressed her heavy painted lips to my neck. I could smell her perfume and part of me pictured me taking the bottle and inhaling the fumes.
She brought her lips to mine and I felt her tongue touch mine, slipping a pill into my mouth. She pulled back and smiled at me, the top of her low cut shirt barely covering her chest. We ended up in a room, now everything was moving quickly. My heart crashed against my ribs, I could feel the music in my veins from the other room. All I wanted was her, her as she pulled that little shirt over her head and onto the floor. Just her.
I woke up feeling like someone had sandpapered my bones to dust. My eyes were foggy as I blinked, trying to see the poster over my bed. My jaw ached like I had been curb stomped and my mouth felt dry. I rolled over and my arm slipped from my bed, hitting the floor below me. I closed my eyes tight against the throbbing in my head as bile rose in the back of my throat. There was pounding but it wasn't coming from inside of me, not even in my room. When there was pounding at my door, I realized it was just Tracy. My mom. The pounding on the door continued for five, migraine filled seconds.
"Shane, get up and get ready to school. You're going to be late." And then she was pounding down the stairs again.
"Fuck." My groan was muffled by the pillow half lodge into my throat. I sat up, kicking the blankets off of me and looked down at myself. My pants were around my ankles, but I still wore my boxers. There was sticky glitter smeared over my chest and stomach. I picked off a fake, white eye lash off of my boxers and flicked it to the ground with the other junk. When I licked my lips, they tasted of lemon salt and lip stick.
I stood up, but tripped over my pants around my ankles, falling in a pile of dirty clothes on my floor. I rolled over onto a pizza box and stared up at the ceiling. I felt like shit on a school morning. I had sex with a girl I couldn't even remember. And now I was lying on a pizza box. A normal morning for me.
After my shower, I put on the same pants I wore the night before and a long sleeve, gray t-shirt. Over that I put on a black shirt with some logo and then my black sweater, zipping that up. My music vibrated in the walls, the over sized speakers near my bed, and when I opened my mouth to sing along, I could feel the music in my lips. The neighbors would be complaining, they always did. Fuck them, I thought. Maybe if my father hadn't left my mom, we could afford a better goddamn house and not live in the fucking projects. Goddamn fucker, I hope he had a heart attack while he boned my step mom in the Caribbean.
I grabbed my car keys off my desk littered with food, soda cans and condom wrappers before kicking off my stereo and slamming my door shut. I locked it behind me and turned to see Samantha crossing her arms over her chest.
"You know one day, you're going to be too stoned to remember to lock that and moms going to see everything you're hiding." I got right up in my sisters face, glaring down at her.
"Keep your mouth fucking shut," I swore. "Or I'll tell mom that you took her car to be a little slut with your boyfriend."
"Go ahead," she stepped up even closer to me. "I'll show her where you hide your stash."
"Shane, Samantha! What is taking so long?" I walked away from my sister, hearing her follow and to the front door. "Wait Shane." I paused, my hand on the door but my back to my mom.
"What is it?" I asked the floor, feeling anger inside of me.
"When did you get in last night?" Tracy asked from the kitchen.
"None of your goddamn business, I'm late for school."
"Like you care," Samantha snapped, pushing past me out the door. I slammed the door shut and followed her. She got in my car on the passenger side and pouted like she was impatient. I got in and fired up my crappy car.
"It's eight o'clock already," Samantha pointed at the clock on the dashboard, letting her hand fall back onto her thigh with a slap. I stopped at the red light and lit up a cigarette. "I'm going to get detention again."
"You could walk yourself," I suggested, rolling down the window.
"It's like fifty miles away!" God I hated it when she exaggerated.
"Then get a bike or a bus card," I blew out smoke and hit the gas when the light turned green. "Or have that slug boyfriend drive you."
"He lives on the other side of town." She crossed her arms and scooted down in her seat. I ignored her and turned up the stereo until it rattled the windows and smoked away my migraine.
We got to school just as the first bell rang. Samantha grabbed her shit and threw open the door. "Have a good day sweetie," I called after her, slamming my door shut. She flipped me off as she hurried across the grass and up the steps to the school. I met Kevin over by the tree we hung out at and slapped his hand, stubbing out my cigarette.
"Damn dude," he stomped out his own joint. "Why don't you just leave her ass at home?"
"Tracy would kill me," I shrugged. We started walking at our own pace up the steps; everyone else was already heading to class.
"Say you forgot or something."
"Not that easy man," I shrugged as we entered out Spanish class.
"Usted es tarde," Senorita Malcolm announced as we entered the room.
"Right," Kevin scoffed. We took our seats in the back of the room and I settled in for a nap. I pulled my hood over my head, sank down in my seat and popped my head up on my hand. I needed to get my sleep. But Kevin slapped my arm a few times. "Dude, Shane. Look at Senorita Malcolm." I lifted my head, hardly able to see under my hood but looked anyways. Senorita Malcolm was wearing a white button up shirt, the little red buttons struggling to stay stitched over her chest, her pencil skirt hugging her hips.
"You're twisted man," I chuckled, settling back into sleep.
"I know who is going into the spank bank tonight," he murmured. I laughed again but was already falling asleep.
It wasn't long before Kevin hit my arm hard enough to make me lose my balance and wake me up. "What the fuck man?" I growled, but he had his face pointed down to his book, his mouth twitching as he tried not to laugh. I realized everyone in the class was twisted around in their seats, smirking at me. When I looked up, Senorita Malcolm was standing over my seat, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders.
"Me diría usted lo que usted tuvo para cenar anoche?"
"Uh," I sat up, pushing back my hood as I wracked my brain for any Spanish I could muster.
"Would you please tell the class what you had for dinner last night?" She repeated in English, sighing.
"Uh," I repeated, someone laughed. "El taco and el salad-o with el soda-o." The class laughed and Kevin coughed to hide his laugh.
"Mr. Monroe, you are in Spanish three. Would you mind telling me how you passed your other two years?"
"With my overwhelming charm?" I guessed, smiling really big. Senorita Malcolm laughed despite herself.
"Doubtful," she nodded, turning her back on me and walking away. Kevin let loose his laugh and leaned over, clamping his hand down on my shoulder.
"That was some class A bullshit Shane," he laughed. I grinned and nodded so he would go back to his work. Kevin Stanley was a pretty cool guy, he knew how to chill and take shit plus he had the best pot. But the down side of Kevin was that he had tourettes so when he was off his pills, he lashed out a lot. But his down fall was a silver lining for me; he always had pills to stabilize him.
After class, I had wood shop and Kevin had some other class. We went out separate ways and I went to go mess around with wood, I laughed to myself as I entered the class. I took my seat at the bar stool tables with big, metal machines placed in the middle of the tables. We had a substitute today, some fat man, who put on a movie and told us all to watch it. Yeah right.
I could see people texting on their cell phones; one girl was sitting under the table and talking on hers quietly. A group of nerds had their heads together and were whispering. One of the kids, a fire crotch, glanced up and met my eye. I glared and him and he looked away, throwing glances at me. Well, now I knew who they were talking about. They were probably worried I would mess up their epic plans to become rulers of the world or something. Two guys on the water polo team were arm wrestling, a small group crowded around them.
I rested my chin on my folded arms and thought about last night as I stared, unseeingly at the TV screen. I didn't really care about the chick I had sex with last night, I was just bummed I couldn't remember much of it. I remember she was pierced though, where most girls aren't. It had a gem on it, I remembered that. And I remembered how her fake eyelashes ended up stuck to my boxers; that I dwelled on a little while longer.
"Shane," someone in the back called. "Shane, come here." I turned and saw Dean Stevenson, waving me over. I got up and joined him at his table in the back corner. Dean Stevenson was from my part of town, his dad was a wife beater and in and out of jail often, me and Dean knew each other from way back.
"I got a new shipment," he whispered.
"How much?" I asked instantly, tallying up the amount of money I had hidden in my room.
"Wait," he looked around and lowered his voice. "This stuff is new. I don't know its real name, but people call it wood chips."
"Why the hell do they call it that?" I frowned.
"I'll show you." He lifted up his text book and there was a line of regular wood shaving, diced and cut in rows. It looked like powder, like Dean had grinded and re-grinded it. "Snort away." He handed me a dollar bill that was rolled up. I looked at the sub and saw him dozing off in the teacher's chair and bent over the wood shaving with the dollar bill to my nostril.
I snorted up the line and felt it lodge its self in my brain, my eyes watering. I had snorted before, but this shit stung.
"Shit man," I coughed, wiping my nose on my sleeve.
"Wait, calm down Shane, just wait," Dean nodded. I sat still, blinking back the water in my eyes and waited. I felt the wood sort of dissolve and sizzle in my brain. It gave me the goosebumps down my neck, my hair rising on end.
"Whoa," I breathed.
"Right? And the real shit is even better."
"How much?" I wiped my nose again.
"Fifty for a line."
"Fifty for one fucking line?" I pinched my eyes shut to get rid of the water. Dean could afford that, even though he lived in the projects with me, he was good at picking the richer kids to deal to. They always wanted more, and bought more. Dean got a cut of the pay and saved it, that's why he was sporting the new watch and shoes.
"It's not even on the market yet; the prices will even out more. It's worth it, trust me." I took a deep breath; the stinging in my brain was still there.
"Alright fine," I sucked in air.
"Please, pot head." I turned around and saw Kimberly Walsh watching me, her blonde hair over one shoulder to reveal the hickey on her neck. I noticed the red lip gloss on her mouth and remembered something.
"Hey baby," I sneered. "How's that gem?" I brought my fingers to my mouth and made a gesture that made her face drained of color and she turned around quickly.
"Get me the money tomorrow, and I'll bring you a line." I nodded and grabbed my shit as the bell rang. Dean walked beside me on our way out Kimberly Walsh's wall of blonde hair in front of us. Her and her little friend were whispering to each other, I listened.
"I saw you last night at the party," her friend giggled. "With Shane Monroe."
"Yeah," Kimberly breathed and I caught the smile on her face. But it disappeared quickly. "Don't say anything." In Kimberly's world, the words Don't Say Anything, always meant the opposite. When she shagged Bryant Montgomery behind the Ferris wheel, she told her friends to not say anything. Word got out and Kimberly went from girl with big boobs, to hot girl with big boobs on the cheer team who fucked a foot ball player. She loved the attention.
"I won't," her friend obviously lied. "But come on, Shane Monroe? Sure, he's gorgeous but he's trouble Kim." Kimberly rolled her eyes. "You wouldn't know how to handle him." I intervened then, throwing my arm around Kimberly.
"She knew how to handle me last night," I purred into her neck. Kimberly twisted around and pushed me hard.
"Shane Monroe you disgusting pig—druggie waste, you are a freak. Why can't you do this school a favor and just go die?" She grabbed her friend by the wrist and they stomped away.
"She wants you," Dean laughed. Everyone in a ten foot radius had stopped and was gawking at me.
"Yeah man," I mumbled, walking away.
I met up with Kevin and Dean under the tree during lunch and lit up a cigarette. Dean was too busy retelling the story about Kimberly Walsh to Kevin, so I turned around and looked over to the quad area where everyone was eating. Why can't you do this school a favor and go die? Her words ricocheted around in my brain as I looked at everyone. I had known these kids most of my life, from kindergarten to my junior year in high school. I had been beaten up behind the stadium by the foot ball team, called a 'freak' 'druggie' 'Goth' and 'pot head' as long as I could remember. I've been banned from school dances for 'inappropriate behavior' and being stoned out of my mind. I never offered them to get wasted with me on the cliffs or smoke up a joint. Last night at the party with Kimberly was a normal thing, a truce. I didn't bring a gun to school and wipe out everyone of their fake smiles—even though I imagined it a million times to where I felt the gun in my hands—and they would get high and fuck me faceless at a party. But the next morning, we went back to our invisible walls.
And today I had torn down that wall with Kimberly. It was fine really; I knew that if the circumstances were different, if I didn't do drugs, didn't hate everyone of them, that most of the girls here would nail me in a coat closet. I could have my pick of girls but they had to have the excuse of a party and alcohol to go into the mix.
Fuck them, I swore in my mind. I could bring a gun, and end it. End everything. I would pump rounds after rounds into their Barbie doll faces and jock bodies. I didn't need this shit.
Kevin threw his arm around me then, breaking my revere. "Smooth dude, I would've given my left nut for a night with Kimberly." Just then, Kimberly looked up from her table and met my eye. She rolled her eyes and turned away from me, talking animatedly to her friends.
"Yeah…" I shook him off of me. "Come on." They followed me through the quad area, ignoring the stares and whispers as we did. I spotted Samantha sitting in her boyfriend Mike's lap at a lunch table near the stone wall. I walked over, slamming my hands down on to the table. The trays rattled and Samantha and her friends gasped.
"Damn it Shane!" Samantha growled at me.
"What's wrong little sis, did I scare you?" I pushed off the table, standing up right. "Hey Mike, comfortable?"
"Uh—er," Mike sputtered like an idiot, a handful of my sister's thigh in his hand. "Yeah."
"I bet," I nodded. "You don't want this right?" I reached over and took his milk carton.
"Shane, that's not yours," Samantha pointed out, her face getting red. She always got red when she wanted to kill me.
"It's Kevin's now," I shrugged, tossing it to Kevin.
"Thanks man," he smiled, but then it disappeared. "I didn't want white, I wanted strawberry milk!" And then he took off, storming towards the cafeteria, squeezing the milk carton. Me and Dean laughed but Samantha got pissed.
"God you are such an asshole Shane," she spit. "Why didn't dad take you with him to the Caribbean? Oh wait, I remember. He didn't want you!" Her friends laughed nervously and I stared at her. I could feel the shock on my face, the way my jaw was clamping slowly and how my hands were balling into fists. I had reached out and slapped her before I even realized I had moved.
The blow was very audible, causing her hair to swirl around her head.
"Shane, let's go," Dean said, anxious. Samantha had her hand on her face, tears in her eyes and she glared at me.
"I hate you."
"I hate you too," I said through clenched teeth. I was shaking; I knew Shane could feel it as he grabbed me by the arms, trying to tow me away. "I fucking hate you Samantha! I hate you!" Shane pulled me away, around the stone wall and towards the back of the cafeteria. I shoved him off of me, my skin was burning, and I wanted to hit her again.
I brought my hands up onto my head, grabbing fistfuls of my hair and I breathed in deep through my teeth. "Shane, it's okay," Dean was saying. He had his hands palm up to me, carefully stepping closer to me like a snake charmer.
"No it's not okay Dean!" I shouted. I was crying now, I only cried when I was real pissed, livid—furious to the point where I couldn't take it. "I fucking hate her!"
"I know you do, I know." He was trying to calm me down like he did to Kevin when he was having one of his episodes. I whirled around and slammed my fist into the wall three times before turning back around to face him. Once, when I had gotten like this, I had slugged Dean in the face. I felt horrible about it afterwards; I had been friend with Dean since I was born practically. He had spat out a tooth and had a minor concussion but he forgave me.
I took a deep, steadying breath and nodded. Dean patted me on the shoulder, his eyes careful. I took a few more deep breathes until my hands stopped shaking before I spoke. The bell rang, and just as it did, the back door the cafeteria burst open and Kevin stumbled out laughing. In his arms, he was holding a load of strawberry milk cartons.
"What'd I miss?" He breathed, chuckling. I couldn't help it, I had to laugh and Dean joined in. We each got a few milks from Kevin and headed to class.
I didn't wait for Samantha as I made my way to the parking lot. I nodded my goodbyes to Dean and Kevin as they got into Dean's car. It wasn't much better than mine, even with all the extra cash he had. He only spent what he needed on his car, bought clothes and survived. His dad was home between his next jail visit, whenever that would be, so that meant he would be spending all his extra time after work at the bar downtown. I couldn't tell who was luckier with the father situation, me or him.
I was lying on my bed, my head phones on and turned up loud after school. My mind was somewhere else as the pot settled in my body. Samantha came charging down the hall and started pounding on my door with both of her fists.
"You fucking bastard!" She cried, kicking my door. "Don't ever touch me again, you gave me a bruise! I hate you! I hate you!" I turned my music up, closing my eyes.
"What's wrong?" It was my mom now.
"Look at what he did to my face!"
"Oh my." Then Tracy's voice was at my door too. "Shane, open up. Open this door." I peeked and saw the door handle rattling. "Look at your sister's face, why did you slap her?"
"Because I told him the truth! That dad left because he couldn't take Shane's shit anymore!" I turned up my music to full blast. I could barely hear their muffled shouts, the door handle jiggled, the entire door bowed with their hits. Well not theirs but Samantha's, Tracy wouldn't flip out this bad, ever. Finally, I heard mom drag Samantha away and it was silent. I rolled over onto my side and fell asleep.
