"How much longer am I gonna have to be like this? This is making me nervous…"

"We're almost there, silly!"

Tasha guided a blindfolded Fresh by his shoulders through the train yard. After a couple of minutes of weaving their way through the cars and rails, they had finally arrived at their destination.

"I'll take your blindfold off now. Ready?"

"Just get this thing off my face already, Tash!"

She hastily untied and removed the cloth from Fresh's head.

"SURPRISE!"

Jake and the others had jumped out from behind a very special train car, ironic party hats donned crookedly and plastic noisemakers buzzing. As Fresh absorbed the spectacle in front of him, his eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. "Holy…."

On the train car were the artfully spray-painted words Happy Birthday Fresh! Below it was graffiti of a cartoony Fresh holding his favorite boom box.

Jake stepped forward. "Do you like it?"

Fresh laughed incredulously. "Dude, this is awesome! Who made this?"

"We all did. We worked together to make it for you," Brody replied.

Spike chuckled. "He's right, believe it or not. Most of the time, trying to work with these knuckleheads is a major pain in the ass. Consider this a miracle."

"It's not so much a miracle, though, as it is that we care so much about you that we're willing to stop going at each other's throats for you, man," Frizzy piped in. Jake noticed that, at that comment, his best friend blushed a little.

Fresh grinned uncontrollably from ear to ear. "Wow, guys… I'm speechless. I can't say how grateful—." Fresh paused for a moment and raised his eyebrows. "Wait, is that…" he squinted at the train car. "Is this a Ruthie?"

"Yup." Jake continued in his snobbiest voice, impersonating an upper-class millionaire, "This is indubitably one of the high-class train cars carrying the invaluable goods of Mister P. R. Rutherford, of Rutherford and Company." Jake knew how important the business tycoon was in Pleasant Ridge. His name was everywhere: on billboards and buses, trucks and trains, even on his own private airplanes and helicopters; he and his friends called them "Ruthies" for short. The billionaire's economic influence reached all across the East Coast—which is why sticking it to the biggest man in town was the perfect project for the group of rebellious vandals and the perfect gift for Fresh.

"I hacked into the railroad service's database and picked up the time charts for all the Ruthies coming in within forty-eight hours of now and found this beaut," Prince K added. "She came in at four this morning and isn't leaving until noon, so this was the perfect opportunity."

Fresh looked down at his shoes. "Geez, you did all this for me? Thanks guys… I don't think I've ever had such an awesome birthday."

"And it's not over yet!" Tricky emerged carrying a large baking pan covered in tin foil. Fresh immediately drew his attention toward the potential food item, interest piqued.

Prince K lit up at the sight. "Are those…. Are those the…?"

"Yessss," Tricky said with an evil grin, "but Fresh has to open his present first!"

"Oh, hell no!" Prince K groaned. "Come on, hurry up, Fresh. I've got the munchies to end all munchies right now. Even the gravel is starting to look appetizing at this point."

"Alright, alright," Jake said, "Spike, Brody, bring out 'the package'."

Each boy held an end of the box as they brought it over (it wasn't actually that heavy—Jake just thought it would give it a more dramatic effect). It was a bit more than a couple of feet long and wrapped in paper with a colorful dinosaur design. When they set it at Fresh's feet he chuckled. "Really, guys? Dinosaurs? What am I, five?" Scattered snickering permeated the group. Fresh sat on the ground, cross-legged, and tore at the wrapping paper. When he finally opened the gift, Fresh let out an enormous whoop, jumping in the air and waving the box above his head. "OH MY FUCK. IT'S A NEW BOOM BOX! Holy shit… there's no way this could be real, man! I must be dreaming."

"Yeah, we figured after you ran from the Inspector in the rain that one time that you'd need a replacement," Jake said. "This one can play both cassettes and CDs. You can even hook your iPod up to it! Pretty cool, huh?"

"Are you kidding me? There's no way this could've been cheap… who'd you have to kill?"

"I have my ways… I'll explain later." Jake swiftly changed the subject. "For now, let's get our cake on!"

"Excuse you! Those are slutty brownies, to be precise," Prince K interjected. "Also, those are some baked goods that have to be in my mouth within five seconds or I'll flip my shit!"

"Alright, alright, calm your tits!" Tricky said, unwrapping the pan and using a plastic cake knife to cut the dessert into portions.

The friends ate a few bites, shared a few smokes, and had a few laughs. For many of them, it was the first time in a long time that they enjoyed themselves, even if it was only for a single, ephemeral morning. As Jake relaxed and bonded with the group, he realized how much he would really miss these guys if anything ever happened to him or to them, and how much he cherished these simple moments, free from the stresses and responsibilities of real life. He wished it could last forever.

Although Jake didn't want to cut the celebration short, there were other matters that needed attention. He checked his phone. It was after ten-thirty; almost time for class at his community college. Banging on Tricky's now-empty baking pan, he gathered everyone's attention. "Hey, guys. I just want to first thank you all for doing this for Fresh." The group proceeded to aim a few brief "Happy Birthdays" Fresh's way. "Tonight," Jake continued, "is Aly McFarlane's big party. You all are going, right? Because I'm gonna need to bring some friends."

"Sorry dude, can't make it," Brody responded apologetically. "Tonight Prince K, Frizzy, Tash, and Spike are going with me to HomoPalooza at that one gay bar."

"…Gay bar?" Jake said with bewilderment. "I'm pretty sure none of you are actually gay. Or old enough. Frizzy and Tash don't even qualify!"

"My friend's older brother is a bouncer there," explained Brody, "and he said he could let us through without an ID."

Jake sometimes forgot how many advantages Brody had because of his social and financial status. It seemed to him that he had a connection for practically any situation. Damn, Jake thought. That kid is the epitome of posh.

"Tonight they're serving complimentary drinks as a part of the event. We can't turn down free booze, Jake."

"Yeah, Jake, we're really sorry," Frizzy said.

Jake sighed. "Oh, well. Guess it'll just be me and Tricky and Birthday Boy. You guys can go ahead and get going… except for Fresh. I need to talk to you for a sec."

The teenagers took their leave. After a few minutes, there was nobody left in the train yard except for Fresh and Jake. "Fresh," Jake said finally, lowering his voice, "I need a favor from you. I made a deal with some guy to get you that fancy-ass boom box. He gave it to me for free, but in return, I have to do some work for him."

"Dude, what have you gotten yourself into? You can't just go out and sell your soul to the Devil for a fuckin' boom box!"

"It's all chill, don't worry; he's a big-name dealer around here. He wants me to sell some of his spliff, and I need you to pick it up for me."

"Why can't you do it?"

"I have class, and after that I have to sneak onto the campus of that all-girls private college to talk to Aly. I know that it's your birthday, and I'm really sorry, but I need you to do me a solid. Please."

Fresh rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine, I'll do it. Who's the guy?"

"I've never met him. We only ever talked through his middlemen or over the phone. I have this card, though, with his name and address." Jake puts his hand into his back pocket and emerges with a small card, handing it over to Fresh.

The other boy glanced at the card. "… 'Frank'? That's it? Just 'Frank'?"

"He's so mysterious... he never told me his last name. Or anything about him, now that I think about it…" Jake trailed off. "Well, I'm off. See ya, Fresh. And Happy Birthday!" Jake shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets and walked leisurely away, whistling to himself.

Fresh stood alone in the train yard, staring at the card in deep thought. Eventually, he came back to reality with a couple of blinks and sighed. He was happy to be an adult now, but he had a bad feeling that he was going to be in over his head…

Drug dealers usually resided in the bad parts of town, along with the other dregs of society. The dilapidated buildings, impoverished neighborhoods, and strong presence of organized crime in many of the town's districts proved that Pleasant Ridge was not as perfect as it tried to present itself; in fact, it wasn't very "pleasant" at all. Fresh's stomach churned with anxiety about the possibility of getting mugged, or beat up—or worse. However, as he stood in front of the dealer's place of residence, address card in hand, he was shocked. He was in one of the nicest neighborhoods in town; "Frank's" home was an elegant, three-story estate, with two luxury sports cars parked in the driveway. Fresh peered around to the back of the house and noticed an in-ground pool, complete with diving board, water slide and waterfall. "So fancy," Fresh mumbled to himself. Jake was right—he really must have been a big-name dealer.

Fresh trekked up the cobblestone walkway and rang the doorbell. Within a few moments a voice responded from a speaker on an adjacent wall. "What do you want?" the voice said agitatedly.

"Uh… is there a 'Frank' residing here?"

"It depends. Who sent you?"

"I'm one of Jake's friends. He told me you made a deal with him and I'm here to pick up the, um… stuff."

"Ah, yes. The skinny hooligan boy. I do recall us having set up an agreement. Come in." Fresh could hear the click of the door unlocking. He entered the estate with uneasiness. This is sketchy as fuck, Jake, Fresh thought. What have you gotten me into?

He looked around the foyer, eyeing elaborate, designer furniture and expensive art that decorated the walls and tables. Tempted as he was, he didn't dare swipe anything. This Frank guy sounded creepy enough already—who knew what he was capable of if rubbed the wrong way?

"Enjoying the scenery?"

Fresh jumped at the sudden interruption. He examined the source of the voice—a tall, young man with well-kempt hair and a crisp business suit stood at the doorway to the living room, his face concealed completely by a white bunny mask. To Fresh, its unceasing grin and flushed cheeks gave off more of an eerie impression than an endearing one. The man motioned to the living room. "Come in, have a seat. Get comfortable. Make yourself at home."

Fresh followed the man and seated himself on a lavish sofa; the mysterious man sat across from him in an equally lavish armchair. After a few seconds, Fresh decided to speak first. "Who exactly are you?"

"I'm called Frank. That is all you need to know. Should you really be probing into my identity, though, when you're the strange boy who showed up on my doorstep without any prior notice?"

Fresh was so nervous that he was on the verge of breaking a sweat. The mask's beady, red eyes really gave him the creeps. How could he get comfortable under that thing's ominous glare? "So," Fresh continued, changing the subject, "about the drugs…"

"I have prepared some narcotics for your friend to distribute. Do you know how much you need?"

Fresh rubbed the back of his neck. "Umm… we're planning on going to a big party tonight, so a decent amount."

"Will an ounce do?"

Fresh hesitated. How much was an ounce again? Was that a lot? He knew it was smaller than a pound... what about grams? Aren't those a thing too? "I think a few ounces will be good." Better to be safe than sorry. An ounce couldn't be that big.

"Good." Frank retrieved something from behind the armchair and tossed it toward Fresh. Five one-ounce bags of marijuana were bundled up in a larger bag. Altogether, it was about as big as an infant. "I expect full payment within seventy-two hours."

Fresh was dumbstruck. "H-how can you expect us to sell all this? This is way too much!"

Frank cocked his head to the side. "Excuse me?"

"We can't do this. I'm gonna have to give some of this back to you, I'm sorry."

Frank sharply inhaled through his nose, tensing up. Fresh gulped hard. As quickly as the tension had come on, however, he exhaled and his shoulders returned to a more relaxed position. He rested his elbows on each arm of the chair, interlocking his fingers in front of him. "I don't think I happened to catch your name. Might I ask who it is I am speaking to?" When he spoke, each word was executed in an entirely calm and level manner—unsettlingly so.

"Fresh... my friends call me Fresh."

In the blink of an eye, Frank rose from his chair and pressed Fresh into the sofa, holding a knife to his throat. Fresh whimpered. He couldn't even tell where the knife had come from; it was all so shockingly fast. The dealer leaned closer to him and spoke softly into his ear, carefully enunciating every word. "Well, Fresh, when I give someone a job, I expect them to carry it out just as I tell them to. And do you know what happens to people who don't do what I tell them to?"

Fresh, his breathing shallow and fast, shook his head.

"Well," his voice dropped to a whisper, "I will find them, and find out everything about them—who they are, where they live, where they work, who is important to them—and I will destroy their puny, insignificant lives. I have men that will bludgeon people to death at the drop of a hat and they have ways of gathering any information I could possibly need. I will kill everyone close to you, Fresh, everyone you love. If I'm feeling merciful, I'll let them off easy and simply end their lives, but I'd rather opt for torture that lasts weeks upon months, slowly draining the life from their bodies as they beg for death. Or, there is always human trafficking… the sex slave trade sure is thriving these days."

He released Fresh and took a step back. The boy trembled with fear. "Now that you understand my request," he said, his voice more cheerful, "run along to your party. I expect to see you in a few days. Goodbye, Fresh… and remember that I'll be watching you."