"Hey, amiga, know how the cyber cafe got knocked over last night?" she asked me conspiratorially during a commercial break.
"Mr. O'Neill mentioned something about it, before I stopped caring."
"Well, check this out." She lifted up the sheets on her bed, revealing several computers underneath.
My eyes bulged. "Holy shit, Jane," I gasped.
"Cool, right? I got such a thrill out of smashing up Kevin's Jeep, I decided to see if it'd be just as fun to smash some more shit. So last night, I broke out the cyber cafe's window."
"And the computers just followed you home, right?"
Jane smiled slyly. "Well, I helped them along a little. You want one?"
"Well, I generally frown upon mayhem and theft..." I examined the closest one, and noticed it was much newer than the one I had at home. "But I'll make an exception for the ability to see up to 64,000 different shades of red when I explode a zombie's skull."
I was about to pull it out from under Jane's bed when the sound of a motor that wished it was dead came from outside. From the look of horror on Jane's face, she understood the sentiment. "Oh God, the Tank!" she yelped, running to the window. I stood up and joined her.
A beat-up black van had pulled to a stop in front of Jane's house, and four men piled out of it. Three began to unload instruments; the fourth - Trent - broke away and jogged towards the house.
"Hide! Quick!" Jane urged me, pushing me towards the closet. I didn't argue with her, and pushed myself as far back into her closet as I could without punching a hole into Trent's room on the other side of the wall.
"Hey, Janey," I heard him say mere seconds after I entered. He must have been running faster than I thought.
"Hi, Trent," she replied woodenly.
"The band finished early tonight."
"What happened? Did you rub one of your groupies the wrong way and get kicked out again?"
I winced at the sound of a very loud slap, then winced again when it was repeated less than a second later. "You have a cute mouth, Janey, but you should watch what comes out of it. Want to watch the band practice downstairs?"
"I wish I could, Trent, but I have a lot of homework to do, and -'LLWATCHI'LLWATCH!"
I took a risk and came forward just enough to see what had happened. Trent had grabbed Jane by one of her earrings in each ear and had been pulling hard. He relented when Jane said okay, and grabbed her hand and practically dislocated her shoulder dragging her out of the room.
I stood there helplessly watching this all happen, feeling sick to my stomach, wishing I could have done anything, anything at all to save Jane from the moment. I couldn't discard the fact that Trent was bigger and stronger than I was, though, and if I had tried anything, he would have snapped me like a rotten twig.
I waited for several minutes. I hardly breathed, trying to listen over the jet engine pace my heart was beating at if Trent would return. Finally, the house rumbled, and what I at first mistook for an earthquake was the opening chords to...something. As I shakily made my way out of Jane's room, down the stairs, and out the front door, I reflected that what Trent and his band lacked in talent, they must make up for in incredibly loud speakers.
Before I made my way down the street, my eye caught on the van, and I remembered how cathartic Jane found the destruction of Kevin's Jeep.
Looking towards the garage, I instantly noticed (through its open door) a baseball bat tucked over to one side. I walked over and picked it up. The wood felt good in my hands.
I stood in front of the so-called Tank, leaning the bat across my shoulder. I glanced around, making sure the coast was clear.
I swallowed nervously.
I swung away.
The windshield shattered with a very satisfying CRUNCH!
I paused to admire the handiwork. I was a little startled to not hear any police sirens or shouts of protest. I looked at the bat suspiciously for a moment, then swung away again.
The bat recoiled off the passenger side door with a WHUNG!
I swung a third time. Another WHUNG off the side of the van.
I swung again, and again, and again, and soon I lost count of how many times I had struck the hated van. I began to imagine that, rather than an automobile that had seen better days, I was actually beating up Trent. Instead of denting in the bumper, I was knocking out his teeth. Cracking the side-view mirror was giving him a terrific blow in the stomach, causing him to double over and lose his breath. Knocking off the hood ornament...knocking him in HIS hood ornament. Unconsciously, I began to smile. It was a smile unlike any that had graced my face before - a crazed rictus of reckless abandon.
The smile was wiped off my face moments later when the strong hands grabbed me by the arms and pinned me against the van.
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING TO MY FUCKING VAN?" the voice roared in my ear.
He plucked the bat out of my hand and spun me around effortlessly. I realized at once that it wasn't Trent - it was one of the others in his band. The bald one.
"This...this was your van?" I said, in a very meek voice.
"Yeah, whose fucking van did you think it was?" he shouted, veins in his neck bulging.
"I...I thought it was Trent Lane's van. I'm sorry."
The fire in his eyes died instantly. "Oh...you're one of Trent's girls?" His tone had lost all the anger, and I actually heard a smidgen of pity.
I opened my mouth to say 'No', but I realized if he thought I was one of Trent's girls (and it only occured to me just then that Jane might not be the only woman to have night terrors about Trent), he might not press charges, or kick my ass. So I nodded.
He appraised the van with a pained look. "It'll cost me a few hundred bucks to fix the windshield and the mirrors..." he muttered. "I don't really give a shit about the dents...not like the Tank didn't have any before, at least," he shrugged to himself.
"I...I could pay for the damage," I offered, knowing full well it would wipe out my savings.
He turned his attention back to me. "Look, just...get out of here, okay? And stay the hell away from Trent, if you know what's good for you." He avoided my stare as he frowned.
"Hey Max, where's the fucking beer?" Trent called from inside.
"Beat it!" he hissed at me. "Some dipshit trashed the Tank!" he called back to the house.
I ran all the way back home. I didn't realize until I was back in my room that I had forgotten the computer Jane had offered me, and began laughing hysterically. The laughter continued until I was short of breath, and fearing oxygen deprivation, I slapped myself until the laughter cut off like a faucet.
Then I started to cry.