Dirt

Irvan

I'd never felt this kind of pain.

Not when my younger sister died.

Not when my dad committed suicide.

Not when my mother abused me.

Never.

Bernard was my best friend. My first friend. I loved him like a brother and this here, his life gone, over a few a harshly exchanged words. It was petty and a sad way to go. I was tired of this life, I loved these people -they were my family, but it was this life that killed Bernard, for  awhile it was cool -this life- late  nights, wild parties, girls, no adults or any authority, but after about four years it got old and I fell into the bad boy delinquent mold, I was just another pimple on the face of society.

So I changed. some what.

My grades at least, they went up, that separated me a little bit from the crowd, though the teachers, they never validated this, they all believed that I was cheating, but there was -obviously- never any proof, so all I had to my name teacher wise was good grades and thick doubt.

The only person that honestly and truly saw the potential and good in me was Bernard, he didn't see my rap sheet, my new jacket, my Steve-o t-shirt, my Ferris bueller cd, my switch blade, all of the things other people friended me for. he saw the way I grabbed a little boy who had fallen on the train tracks, he saw when I took the heat for handsome and joey's drugs in my locker, he saw how I took care of Andy's girlfriend when we were alone at a party and she was drunk, he saw how even when my girlfriend slapped me and called me a ''no-good-bastard'' and made me get out I still came back a week later and put my check in the mail box, he saw the little things that no one else saw.

I'd left two hours ago before any one else, it may seem sad but I didn't have any love for his body, it was his personality, his free spirit, his soul is what I had love for and that was gone.

I cant say exactly where it had gone, I mean my parents were Christians and told me that when ever some thing was wrong to pray and God would fix it, but look at how well that turned out, I prayed for my sister and she died from leukemia, I prayed for my dad and committed suicide, I prayed for my mom and she abused me, I prayed for Bernard and now this, what was I left to believe in? Though I still couldn't switch to a non-believer, I will always believe because there was something good to believe in, some of the guys and girls from Dirt gang went to church on rare occasions most of us -if remembered- prayed before eating and secretly before we went to sleep. Even though all the horrid things that had happened to us, our friends, and our family, we all secretly believed in God, we all believed in something. Some thing good, some thing that would never intentionally hurt us, if we didn't believe in God what was there? The devil? even if I believed God wasn't working believing in the devil would only ensure a horrible and heinous life of sadness and hatred and cursed with bad things, believing in God had no grantees but at least if the word didn't exactly follow through there would be no negative repercussions.

 I stared at the ceiling thinking, possibly plotting, I knew Grey and his gang where defiantly getting ready for a fight but, I would have to make them stop and wait and listen to reason, attacking Slicks would do no good if we had no plan we'd be going in naked, we needed to think this out. The Slicks weren't really up on the ''no-weapons'' fighting, all they knew were knives and chains and guns, all we wanted to know were fist and the occasional pipe or blade. we had to talk this out first so we all weren't on different pages of just wanting to kill something.

We actually had to use our heads for once in our lives.