CHAPTER 3: CHANGES

Toki lay on his bed with his eyes tightly shut. He was sleeping soundly, and it was only eight o'clock at night. Pickles smiled at this stupid early bedtime. The Norwegian was a total child, that much was true. He didn't know how to fight, he'd just sat there and taken what the redhead had given him with a look of annoyingly superior—no, that wasn't the right word, because there truly was nothing superior about Toki. It was more like an annoying acceptance he had in him. He took his licks and then drug himself into the dorm bathroom to clean himself up. Yes, their room had a bathroom. Pickles knew that he was lucky because of this, but didn't really care much. He'd never taken showers every day to begin with, and usually his breath smelled so much of either booze or smoke that brushing his teeth wasn't an issue.

Now he just laid peacefully on his bed, staring at the cell phone he'd stolen earlier that day. After a few seconds of this he looked back over to Toki. The Norwegian looked exceedingly peaceful sleeping like that, with his mouth closed and curled up in an innocent half-smile and his long hair in a kind of loose ponytail. Some light, almost golden strands had come undone and were covering his face, spread on his pillow. Occasionally his lips moved in his sleep and he would let out a little sigh. Pickles wondered what he could be dreaming about—sex? He himself always dreamed of sex with some girl or another. His mind flashed back to Jen. He missed her, but not her constant accusations.

No, he'd never cheated on her until she'd pestered him so much about it. Every time he saw her she'd spit in his face or slap him and yell and yell for hours on end without giving him a chance to talk. Pickles cringed at this memory. Had Toki ever had a girlfriend? A sudden, odd thought came to the redhead's mind; had the kid ever even had sex? He distractedly glanced back over at the Norwegian. He could tell a virgin a mile off.

Yes, the answer was undoubtable even by the way the kid slept. He was curled up in a tight ball, and though his face looked peaceful it seemed to be lacking something, something vital...Pickles knew that people changed after they fucked. He had witnessed the change in himself. After he'd lost it he also abandoned much of his previous insecurities; he didn't mind being naked in front of other people anymore. He grinned as he remembered a time when he'd had to jump out of the shower and run into the kitchen to answer the phone. Seth had just gotten home and when he saw his naked brother standing there, his eyes grew wide and he went right out the door again.

"Huh." Pickles chuckled to himself in the dark, rolled over in his bed, and shut his eyes. Across the room he heard Toki let out a loud snore and whisper something in his sleep.

"Love you..."

"Huh?" he sat up, looked over to where the other boy was placidly sleeping.

Toki repeated his words in the form of a wistful sigh. "Loves you..."

"Uh..." Pickles turned red. Was he dreaming about a girl after all? Not likely. He didn't have that look on his face. His face was full of a quiet affection, one that was almost painful. He was so damn tranquil that the redhead had no choice but to lay back down slowly and close his eyes. That night as he went to sleep all he could hear was a series of meek proclamations of love coming from Toki's mouth.

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There was a sharp, throbbing pain that erupted in Toki's shoulder; that's what woke him up the next morning. When he opened his eyes and dared to look around, he was thrown aback by the sudden light that was illuminating the room. Pickles loomed above him, shirtless and awake, holding a wrinkled shirt and a pair of tattered, stained jeans. "Hey, fucker, you happy? You spend the whole Gad damn night talkin' and I couldn't get to sleep—now I'm gonna get in the shower." he turned, walked towards the bathroom, but stopped. "Hey, dildo, when do classes start?"

Toki rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and stifled a yawn. "In-" he glanced over at a digital clock and sighed. It was four in the morning. "-three hours."

"Huh. Cool. Thanks, asshole." and he retreated into the bathroom and slammed the door. Toki just laid back down in his bed and listened to the water run in the bathroom. He prayed that the redhead wouldn't use up all of the hot water or that he wouldn't take too long. He probably would, just out of spite. Toki's eyes teared up as he thought of this. Pickles clearly hated him, but why? Everyone hated him—his teachers, the other students, but why did his roommate detest him so much? He didn't want to think about it, so he laid his head back down on his pillow and pulled the sheets up to his chin.

He thought about many things in the serene darkness of night; that's why Toki honestly hated the night and the feelings it brought. He thought back to his father, to his mother, to the students who gave him hell every day, who made him wish he was dead. No, death was too good for him. Toki didn't think he deserved to die. His father said he'd die and rot in Hell, but maybe even that was too good for him. He hated himself, and Pickles didn't make him feel better about his situation at all. Toki's room used to be a sanctuary for him, a place to get away from the horrible rest of the world and be by himself, but now...

Now he didn't know what to do.

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Pickles smiled secretly to himself as he stepped out of the hot, steaming shower and onto the cool tile of the floor. He'd used up all the hot water, he knew. He'd taken more than two hours in the bathroom and now Toki was probably pissing himself and crying. He laughed at this thought as he pulled on his jeans and yawned. Damn, he was tired. He never woke up this early, not even when his dad had made him do community service with other juvenile delinquents.

Truthfully, Pickles hated showers just because of the simple fact that he hated water. He was almost even afraid of it, especially after his parents had forced him to go live with his crazy aunt for a summer and she had baptized him. 'Your soul is clean, purified; you may now walk with the Lord,' she'd said, crying tears of ecstatic joy at her nephew's newfound spirituality. Pickles had just marched out of the river, wrung out his pants, and ran away from her home that night. Now he sat on the edge of the tub and sighed. A gentle, timid knock came from the door.

"Please lets me take a shower. Class ams about to start, and-"

"I'm hungry again." Pickles commented, rising to his bare feet and opening the bathroom door. The Norwegian stood on the other side looking pale and exhausted. "Take a shower then get me some food."

"Buts I-"

"Thank you." he completed, shoving Toki into the bathroom and slamming the door shut. About ten minutes later the kid came out of the steamy bathroom combing his hair madly. Pickles watched him with a look of contempt on his face. "Why don't you just get it cut?" he asked Toki. "You tryin' to be a big rebel or somethin'?"

"Nos." he answered, slipping on his boots.

"Then why-"

"I hates it short." was his short, edgy response. Pickles rolled his eyes and got up. He and the Norwegian made their way silently down the many flights of stairs that lead to the dining hall. Toki seemed to grow more and more sullen with each step they took until finally, when they reached the massive hall, he was dragging his feet, letting his hair cover his pale face, and letting out loud, almost hateful sighs.

"What the fuck is wrang with you?" Pickles snapped, irritated by the other teenager's hesitation. "I thought you were gonna tell me where to get food."

"I ams, I just..."

"What?"

"I hates this place." he finally managed to say as they wandered over to the shortest food line and waited. Pickles knew that he should leave Toki well enough alone, but he didn't. The other boy's resentment of this school only peaked his curiosity on the matter, and in a moment he was hovering over Toki's shoulder whispering question after antagonizing question into his ear.

"Why do you hate it here so much, huh? Dosen't your dad make enough money to send you to some fancy, private school?" naturally he assumed that Toki was rich, mostly just because he held an air of ignorance towards the world. He was innocent, untainted, something only a rich little bitch could be. Pickles hated rich kids. Toki's response to this question, however, completely threw him off.

He shook his head, buried his hands down deep in the pockets of his jacket, and mumbled dejectedly, "I No, I'm pretty poor, actuallys."

"Oh, then-"

A group of three other teenagers walked past them, glanced at Toki, and began whispering amongst themselves in Norwegian. In a moment they were all snickering and one boldly pushed past Toki and grinned. Pickles arched a brow at this and scoffed. "What the fuck's wrang with-"

"Everyone here ams like that." Toki muttered, glaring down at the floor. "I'm poor, reallys poor, and my parents..."

"Forget it," the redhead said angrily. "I didn't ask for you whole damn life story." they both grew silent and waited. The line grew shorter and shorter until finally they were able to get their food. Once that was done, Toki made for the exit, but Pickles caught him and demanded, "What the fuck is wrang with you? This is why nobody likes you, 'dis is why you don't have any friends!"

Toki's face reddened with embarrassment as he explained, "I don't ever eats in here. Nobody likes me."

"Because you're a fuckin' anti-social prick! Gad, you're an idiot. C'mon." the redhead yanked Toki's sleeve in the direction of an empty table. The Norwegian first hesitated, glanced around, then followed him, eager to no longer be standing in the middle of the room. Pickles glared at Toki as he sat down. "Seriously, do you have some kinda mental prablem? Why the fuck don't you ever wanna be around people?"

It took a moment for him to answer. Finally he said, "I...I guess I just don't likes people." and he dug into his food hungrily, eating in big mouthfuls as though he feared that at any moment the tray of food might be taken away. Pickles watched him with a look of pure disgust on his face before peering down at his on tray. He let out a sound of protest and pushed the food away.

"What the fuck is this shit? Where's the normal stuff?"

Toki swallowed and shrugged. He continued eating. "I don't knows what you mean. This ams normal stuff."

"No it's nat! I want eggs and bacon and coffee and—wait, you people don't gat hamburgers or hat dogs or bacon and eggs?" he threw down his fork and let his head fall into his hands. "What the hell kinda place is this?"

"This ams Norway." Toki observed as he wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "And here we sometimes eats other stuff for breakfast. Look-" he nudged the tray of food back towards Pickles and said gently, "-just trys it. It ams not so-"

"Fuck aff! Did I ask you to speak, you fuckin' idiot?" he yelled. He didn't realize it, but everyone in the dining hall was now staring at him and snickering. Pickles just threw his tray of food over towards Toki and crossed his arms moodily over his chest. They sat in silence as Toki ate his breakfast. Just before the Norwegian had taken his last bite of food, a group of kids came up to their table. They stared at Pickles oddly. He tried to ignore this but found out he couldn't. Finally he demanded angrily, "What the fuck do you idiots want?"

One of them just smiled to himself and then turned his attention to Toki. "Wartooth, hvem er han og hvorfor gjør han ser så rart?"

"Han er min romkamerat." Toki responded shyly, looking at the ground. The kid sneered down at him.

"Hvorfor han se ut som?"

There was a slight hesitation in the other teenager's voice before he inquired, "Hva mener du?"

"What?" Pickles blurted. "What'd you just say?"

The boy with the sneer on his face grinned at the redhead and asked in Norwegian, "Hvorfor er håret ditt sånn-hvorfor er det oransje?"

He just gave the kid a puzzled look. "Huh? What does 'dat-"

"Leave him alone." Toki broke in, glaring at the boy. "He ams not weird, sos just-"

The boy and his whole group of friend's laughed at this outburst. The kid who had asked all the questions simply smiled condescendingly down at Toki and said in a venomous hiss, "Du bør holde kjeft før jeg slå dritten ut av deg på nytt."

Toki nodded, bit his lower lip meekly, and then went to get up. He exited the dining hall without another word. Pickles was left to just sit there glaring at the group of kids. "Alright asshole, what the fuck did you say to him?"

"I said that he should mind his own business." the boy said. Pickles, surprised by the Norwegian's good, clear English, just continued to sit there looking utterly amazed.

"You know English?"

"Yes," he said, motioning to his friends. "we all do."

"Then why d'you-"

"What's wrong with you?" the Norwegian boy asked. His friends began rapidly talking in their native language, making it impossible for Pickles to understand them.

"I...what?" the redhead wasn't quite sure how to respond to this odd question. The Norwegian boy, sensing his confusion, smiled deviously.

"What the hell's wrong with you? Why is your hair orange and what's those things on your face?"

"F-Freckles." he responded dumbly. This was a complete, foreign mystery to him until he looked around at the boy and his friends and saw the problem. Nearly everyone in the dining hall had brown or blonde hair, granted they were not all completelyalike. Still, to Pickles they seemed to be clones, and it struck him then just how badly he must stick out. He felt something he hadn't felt in a long time—humiliation. Not only that, but he felt terrified all of the sudden. He was totally alone in this new place, totally different from everyone else. His face paled as he rose to his feet and pushed past the boy and his group of friends. Without knowing what else to do or where else to go, he abandoned all previous feelings of superiority and went to track down Toki.

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"Fuck 'dis shit!" Pickles exclaimed as he found the Norwegian. He was sitting on a freezing bench outside reading his book. The redhead walked up to him, kicked some snow, and fumed, "Those fuckin' dildos! Those fuckin', fuckin'...who the hell do they think they are? Nobody talks to me like 'dat, nobo—"

"Whats did they say to you?" the other teenager inquired calmly as he turned a page in his book.

"They just fuckin' had the nerve to come up and—why the hell am I the only one at this school with orange hair? Huh? Why am I the only one with green eyes, the only one with freckles; why-"

"You worry toos much about what those idiots thinks." Toki commented, letting out a breath of warm vapor into the frigid air. Pickles narrowed his eyes at the boy.

"Worry? Worry, 'dat's what you think I'm doin'? Hell no I'm nat worrin', I'm just-"

"You don't feels like you belong here at alls, huh?" the Norwegian asked, shifting his gaze up from his book to the redhead's face. His pale eyes shined with a kind of miraculous, complete understanding as he said, "You feel like you ams not even a real part of this place, like the one piece that don'ts belong, right?"

"No, I-"

"You don't think that you shoulds be here, huh?"

Pickles stopped his fuming. In an odd sort of way, Toki's voice, his very smart, consoling words calmed him and made him lose all of his previous rage. He sat down on the bench next to the Norwegian and let his green eyes travel across the immense stretch of snowy yard before them. There was nobody else out now, no other students to ruin this moment; all of the other benches were vacant, covered in a thick layer of white snow. "We..." he struggled to find the right thing to say. "We ain't gat all this in Wiscansin."

"All this whats? Snow?"

He shook his head. "Nah, we gat some snow. What I'm talkin' about is how we don't have all of this bullshit. Back home nobody fucks with me, 'cause they know I can beat their fuckin' asses...I'm nat sure if I could've beaten that guy's ass..."

"Huh." Toki mumbled as he laid his book down on the bench. He was inviting the other teenager to continue or become silenced, whichever he felt the need to do. Toki's air was neither encouraging nor dissuading, so Pickles took advantage of this and punched him hard in the shoulder. The Norwegian immediately lost his tone of quiet understanding and let out an annoyed hiss of pain as he jumped to his feet and gripped his shoulder. "Fucks you! I tries to be nice and-"

"I never asked you to be nice. Besides," Pickles took a cigarette and lighter out of his pocket. Just before lighting up he said slyly, "you were soundin' like a fag anyways."

"You ams a real asshole, you knows that?"

"I don't really care that much about what a fucking queer like you thinks of me." he retorted, sticking the cigarette between his lips. Without knowing what else to do, Toki let out one more howl of frustration and stormed away. "Wait!" Pickles called, letting out a breath of smoky air. "When do classes start again?"

"Half an hour, idiots!"

"I'm gonna beat your ass for 'dat!" he howled, smoking his cigarette. Pickles sat there for another five minutes or so before noticing the book that Toki had left. He picked it up and read the title to himself. The Catcher in the Rye. With a scoff he opened it up to where the Norwegian's bookmark was and began to read.

"...but it wasn't that he was just the most intelligent member in the family. He was also the nicest, in lots of ways. He never got mad at anybody. People with red hair are supposed to get mad very easily, but Allie never did, and he had very red hair. I'll tell you what kind of red hair he had..."

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Class was the same as it had been back in Tomahawk—boring, senseless, and utterly useless. The teacher was forced to talk in English because Pickles was there, yet whenever one of her treasured students would slip and speak in their native tongue, she would say nothing about it. It came to a point where Pickles could do nothing to keep up or understand, so he just sat in his desk in the back corner of the room, cracked open Toki's book, and tried to read. After a while the teacher called on him. "Pickles? Pickles, are you paying attention?"

"Huh?" he raised his head and frowned.

Everyone was staring at him, and to his ignorance one of the kids said in deliberately loud English, "Look at him, he looks so weird..."

Another Norwegian, a cute, perky girl with large breasts, said aloud, "His hair...it's like something from the Devil, it's so red..."

Pickles turned almost as crimson as his hair then, and swallowed. He turned his attention back to the teacher and tried to ignore the jests of the other students in the room. "I don't understand a word you're sayin'."

The teacher just heaved an irritated sigh and snapped, "If you don't plan on learning then you may as well get out of my classroom."

"But I-"

"Please!" she insisted, slamming her lesson book down on her desk. "Stop this arguing! Goodness, your parents said that you were intolerable, but I'd no idea that-"

Pickles lost it. He threw his book to the side and jumped up. All the kids sitting around him instinctively jumped back in their seats as Pickles exclaimed, "I ain't no prablem and I'm nat intolerable! This fuckin' place is intolerable! You-" his voice caught in his throat because he was yelling so loud, and when he could manage to speak again his words came out as a high-pitched crackling, "You're intolerable! Fuck you! Fuck this place, these people...what, you think I'm weird, you think I'm a fuckin' freak?" he turned to the girl who had said his hair reminded her of something only the Devil could create. "Bitch, fuck you! Fuck-"

"Silence!" the teacher demanded, slamming her hands down on her desk. Every student in the room was staring from her to Pickles with wide, fearful eyes. The teacher stood up and pointed to the redhead. "You—go. Out of here now!"

"Fine, I'll go. I'll-"

"Now!"

"I'm goin'!" Pickles screamed right back. He picked up his book sack, jammed his pages of notes in there, and then went to retrieve Toki's book. As he made his way out of the room, he felt something hit his back; he turned, saw a ball of paper lying on the ground, and heard the whole class laughing at him. "Fuck this shit!" he hissed to himself as he stormed out of the room. As he slammed the door, he could still hear all of those other students laughing at him. It echoed in his head; he'd never forget it for as long as he lived.

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Pickles didn't know what to do. He certainly couldn't live with this day after day—he'd blow his fucking brains out. He needed to think, to get away from this place completely. Without knowing where else to go, he managed to find a bathroom and went inside. "Fuckin' pricks..." he whispered to himself, digging a cigarette and lighter out of his pocket. "Fuckin' little bitch..." he was thinking back to that girl who'd called him the Devil. To think that when he'd first walked into that classroom he'd thought that she was cute. He would've fucked her before that—hell, he was so God damn lonely that he'd probably still fuck the little bitch if he could.

"Shit!" he cried, letting out a dry sob. In an instant he was hunched over a sink glaring down at the drain, trying to hold back tears. Everyone laughed at him, everyone always laughed at him...

How could he possibly manage to live here for the whole summer—maybe longer if his father wasn't gracious. He couldn't, he'd kill himself, he'd shoot everyone in the place then shoot himself. He'd-

"Uh...Pickle, what ams you doing in here?"

"Huh?" he whirled around and wiped his nose. He knew his eyes must be shining with tears—his vision was clouded with them—but he didn't care. Toki stood there in the door of an open stall, his pale eyes wide with concern. "What?" Pickles snapped, ignoring the stuffed-up, pitiful sound of his voice, " 'Dis your bathroom? Huh? You gonna kick me out?"

"N-Nos, I-"

"What the hell are you doin' in here, anyway?" he asked, sniffling again. "Get kicked outta class, too?"

"I..." Toki just shrugged and picked up his book sack—it was next to the sink that Pickles was leaning heavily against. "Maybes I did. What do you care?"

"I don't!"

"Okays, then I guess I'll just lea-"

"How lang have you been stayin' here?" Pickles asked, wiping his eyes, trying to contain his tears. "How long have you been puttin' up with this bullshit? 'Cuase I can't do it, I really can't. I'll fuckin' kill someone..."

"You just haves to get used to it, I guess." Toki gave him a little encouraging smile then made his way over to the door. Pickles caught him by the sleeve of his jacket and pulled him back. For an instant, as his green eyes met the Norwegian's pure, virginal blue ones, he felt himself blush. He didn't know why, but there was something inside of him then that was triggered, a kind of self-loathing, guilty feeling. Guilt? Pickles never felt that, not towards anyone. What did he have to feel guilty about?

"Four years if you really wants to know." Toki said coolly, pulling out of Pickles' grasp. "And my dads says that if I don't shapes up after this year, then he'll..." and his voice trailed off. He made to leave again, but like before Pickles caught him and held him there.

"What'll he do to you?" Toki looked down and for one crucial moment the redhead sensed some kind of horror in his silence. He almost felt scared for the other boy, but he didn't let this show. Instead he whispered to himself, "Sorry...I'm sorry?"

"You ams what?"

"Nothing! I just...leave me the hell alone." he released the Norwegian, pushed him towards the door. He repeated emotionlessly, "Leave me alone, 'cause that's what everyone else does."

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Pickles was kicked out and mocked in all of his other classes. His life was now like a cruel nightmare of everything he'd ever feared before in his life, and he couldn't escape it. The school itself was an endless labyrinth with no hope of escape—that day it took him hours just to locate his room. Once he did he threw his stuff down and turned to face Toki, who was still reading his book. The Norwegian seemed to know what was coming even before it was there, because just before Pickles managed to hit him he had thrown his book to the side and covered his stomach.

It was an odd thing; Toki didn't mind getting hit in his face, spitting up blood, or having blackened eyes, but he hated to get hit in the stomach. Knowing this, Pickles aimed for this spot in particular. It wasn't as though Toki was a hard opponent to beat. He just laid there no matter what, and even though he got angry, he never hit back. That night, as Pickles lowered his fist onto the Norwegian's cheek, there was an enraged exclamation of, "You fuckings little bitch!"

"I hate you!" Was all Pickles could think to say to this as he beat away at the other teenager mercilessly. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you..." he didn't realize it, but he was crying now. Toki saw this and tried to get up. He gripped the edge of his bed and hauled himself to his feet.

"You ams crying again." he observed, his voice slurring as blood and spit ran in long trails from his mouth. Pickles let out an enraged sob and hit him again in the ribs, laughing brokenly when Toki doubled over in pain. "You bitch, that ams a sucker punch."

"I'm not the bitch," he responded, pulling on a handful of Toki's hair, forcing the other teenager's head back. He punched him hard in the mouth then wiped the blood from his knuckles off on his pants. "you're the bitch." And he watched with glee in his eyes as the Norwegian let out a choked gasp and fell onto the ground limply. He didn't know why, but he loved to see him like that, crying just like he was, blood dripping and making little pools around him...

Suddenly that old guilty feeling entered him and struck down all of these emotions. Pickles was left to stand there above Toki, his heart aching, his brain confused and exhausted. He was tired of thinking, tired of moving. He needed a shower. He retreated into the bathroom, locked the door, and turned on the hot water. He undressed and stared at himself in the mirror. He really was disgusting, he thought. Maybe he was something only the Devil could make, just like that sexy little bitch had said...

On his chest, just below his ribs, there was a blackening bruise that was appearing on his flat stomach. He frowned, traced it to make sure it was real. His freckled skin told no lies. Toki had actually hit back, and he had hit back hard. Pickles shook his head slowly, turned on the water, and climbed into the shower. It was then that he allowed himself to cry. He hadn't cried in years for fear of personal humiliation, but now he was doing it heedlessly.

'Crying doesn't help, son,' his father had always told him after beating him. 'It only proves that you deserve it, that you're weak and you need to be toughened up...'

Pickles' strength failed him and he fell to his knees in the shower, watched Toki's blood wash from his quaking, thin frame down the drain. There came a distant knock on the door and his roommate's voice. "Pickle, ams you okay in there?" He said nothing. He didn't have the courage or the energy to say anything, so he just sat there and sobbed for the next hour or so.

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**A/N**

In this chapter I tried to get the idea of Pickles just being a selfish dick out of your heads. I know that he still is somewhat of a selfish dick, but perhaps now you might understand why he's like that—people aren't assholes for no reason. There's always a reason, believe it or not. Anyways, yeah, Toki did get beat up again. Sorry about that. Guess it just doesn't seem like Pickles and Toki will ever get along, much less love each other...

^_^ No, I haven't been updating as much as I would've liked. This is because my sister and me only have one week to hang out—the rest of this week—before she has to go back to college for summer classes. And yes, I have read The Catcher in the Rye before and it's one of my favorite books. I know you might think it's boring and that's too bad. I'm still gonna quote it. I'll be updating much more soon. Remember that reviews are appreciated. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed already.

PEACE & LOVE
[all Norwegian can be translated by Bing Translator]