Author's Note: Nothing to say, really, except that the appearance of Lonnie Doyle is based on that of Lono from the comic book series 100 Bullets.
Lonnie woke with the sun at six o'clock and made coffee and drank it while reading a book: Brave New World. He skimmed the pages expertly and looking at him you might be surprised: a man like that, tattoed and massive and tough looking, reading class literature. After an hour he put the book down and finished his coffee and shaved using his kitchen sink and a hand mirror.
His closet was small but that was fine, since he barely had any clothes to put in it. He took the better part of ten seconds deciding what to wear and then he got dressed: black slacks, blue shirt, leather jacket. His cigarettes were laying on the nightstand by his bed--Dunhills--and he took one out from the package and lit with a fake zippo before heading out of the room and into the hall.
The house was deadly quiet except for the sound of a bus pulling away. 'Must be that kid,' Lonnie thought, 'Goin to school'. He went down the staircase and into the kitchen, scavenging for food. After finding nothing--save a can of beans and two bananas and what looked like leftover pizza--he decided to get lunch at a diner somewhere and left the kitchen, heading for the front door.
Arnold was there on the stoop when he opened it, head hung. His backpack lay beside him on the step. Lonnie asked if he'd missed his bus.
Arnold looked up, startled. He said, "Yeah, I guess...must've overslept." Lonnie nodded and started off to the sidewalk but after he was on the concrete he turned around and said, "Want a ride?" Arnold looked from left to right, thinking, and Lonnie saw immediately that the kid was uncomfortable in his presence and he could see why. Not many kids would feel comfortable in his presence. Not many adults, for that matter.
Finally the kid said, "Alright, sure," and stood from the stoop. "My car's about a block away." The kid said alright and they started to walk.
Lonnie looked at him: he could see why his Grandpa called him 'short man'. A minute or so of uncomfortable silence passed until Lonnie asked, "Do you like school?" Arnold shrugged. "It's alright, I guess. Not so bad." Lonnie nodded and asked if he hung out with anyone in the neighborhood. Arnold said no.
"But my friend Gerald only lives a few blocks away, so I usually do stuff with him. Baseball, things like that."
"You must get along with everybody pretty well."
"Yeah, pretty much. Well...not eveybody."
"Oh?"
"There's this girl I know named Helga who's always bothering me. I don't really know what her problem is, but she's always throwing spitballs at me or calling me names. It can get really obnoxious."
Lonnie turned his head to the side and grinned. His teeth looked like fangs: sharp and hard and well kept. "Sounds like a real pain," he said. "So she's just always bothering you? Everyday?" "Yeah," Arnold replied, "She is, usually."
They made small talk the rest of way: baseball, the weather. Lonnie asked him about some of the other boarding house occupants and Arnold told him about everyone, their stories, their quirks. Lonnie listened intently, making mental notes.
Finally they reached his car. It was old, some kind of Chevy. Arnold went around to get in on the passenger side but there was a notebook laying in the seat. He sat down, picking it up, and turned to the first page. It read, "My darling, I--" but that was all Arnold saw because Lonnie plucked it out of his hands and tossed it into the backseat. "That's...that's personal, kid. Don't mess with it."
Arnold eyed for a second and asked, "What was it?" Lonnie shook his head and they started to drive and Arnold didn't mention it again.
"Where do you go to school?"
"PS118."
"No shi...uh, kiddin'?" He paused for a moment as if thinking deeply and said, "I think I somebody who works there."
He drove through the traffic expertly and they arrived at the school in less than twenty minutes. Arnold grabbed his back and got out of the car, departing with a thank you. Lonnie said, "No problem. I had nothin' to do anyway."
He sat in the car for a moment and a girl--must be that Helga he was talking about--shove Arnold out her way and call him something. Arnold scowled at her and walked over to a black kid with a huge head of hair--Gerald, Lonnie guessed--and the two did a handshake thing and walked up the steps to school.
The Helga girl watched them go and then did something strange: it only lasted for a second, but it immediately confirmed something Lonnie had just assumed from their earlier conversation.
She swooned. Her eyelids fluttered and she clasped her hands to her chest and said something to herself and then walked up the steps, going into the school. Lonnie chuckled, thinking of his own childhood, and then drove home.
He got the notebook out of the back seat as he exited the car and walked into a diner and got a booth by the window. He ordered eggs and bacon.
As he waited for the food to arrive he opened the notebook and took out a pen and started to write. Everyonce in a while he would stop and think and then the pen would be in a flurry, moving so fast it was difficult to imagine he was putting anything down by gibberish.
By the time his food arrived,he'd gone through seven pages.