Class of '97

9. Delinquents

January 30th11:53 pm

It was a beautifulnight, and Doom was the first to notice it as he and Kyle put ontheir black tactical garb once more for another night of sneakingaround. The air was soft and cool, the stars were out in the big sky.A gentle breeze ruffled their hair when they stepped outside fromKyle's back door into the black.

Doom felt securestanding next to Kyle, he felt that Kyle would never let anythinghappen to him. He felt safe and without worry or nerves for this rareoccasion. It was the drugs he had taken hours before, the same drugsthat caused his vision to trail and his thoughts to slow. He wasunsure if Kyle had figured out he was taking drugs again, but Kyleknew, and he felt too hopeful about their mission to say anything.But the night before he had looked through their plans and added anew important step for Massive Retaliation: "make sure Doom issober".

The walk to the schoolwas almost completely silent between the two, the friends who becamebrothers in their own plans of retribution. The streets were eerilyempty; the streetlights cast an orange light onto the white pavementwhere they walked. They passed the empty grocer's store and theypassed the brick built apartment blocks that stood on the corner nextto the video rental place and the family owned deli. They felt theair on their faces, Doom never felt more alive. Kyle felt deadinside, nothing left but a rotting shell of humanity on the outside.

The school was lit bythe little lights over the sign: Zimmerman Public High School. Itlooked dead without the rush of students in and out of the building.Doom stood in front and stared at the sign curiously while Kylesneaked around the side to find the window Mr. Ayala always left opento air out the room overnight.

"Doom!" Kylecalled in a loud whisper. "Come here!"

Doom went to the sideof the building where Kyle was trying to pry the window open further.He kicked the screen into the room and then crawled in. Doomfollowed, his poor coordination causing him to topple into over intothe room sideways, landing on a desk and falling to the floor.

Kyle sighed and wentover to help him up. "You asshole," he said sympathetically. "Yougot to get sober and stay sober."

Doom was embarrassed.He held onto Kyle's arm so he could get back onto his feet withoutmore trouble.

Kyle went to switch onthe lights and they looked around the room. There were desks in themiddle and tables with computers by the wall. "Mr. Ayala is such adumb-ass," he said. Anyone could just take these computers bybreaking in through the window like we did."

Doom laughed eventhough nothing funny was said.

Kyle's face grew dark."What's your problem, Doom? Why are you always doping yourself up?You're going to ruin everything."

Doom shrugged.

"Don't shrug,fucking answer!" Kyle shouted, but then paused. He went to thelights and turned them off, looking out the window in the door. Hegasped and turned to Doom. "There's a light on out there!" hewhispered.

Doom quickly went tothe window without waiting a second and started trying to crawl out.Kyle followed, pushing Doom through the window and then following himonto the cold pavement outside of it.

Once they were outsideKyle wiped the dirt from his black pants and turned towards Doom whostood cautiously. Kyle shook his head at Doom. "Okay," he said."Now answer."

"Answer what?"Doom asked.

"Why are you alwaysdoping up?" They started walking slowly away from the school.

Doom thought for amoment. "I'm not always doing it, just sometimes."

"You do it too much,Doom," Kyle said sharply.

"I'm sorry."

"No you're not."Kyle rubbed his head and then looked up at the sky for a moment."Look, let's split up, I'll meet you at the park. You go aroundChesterfeild Road, I'll go north, and we'll both meet up when we getthere."

"Why?" Doom asked.He hated being alone.

"Because I need abreak from you, is all."

Doom felt hurtmomentarily, but his pain dissolved into a feeling of surrealnothingness. Kyle patted him on the shoulder and smirked. "Come on,let's just split up."

"Okay," Doom saidworried. "Don't get caught."

"Right back atcha."

Doom walked until hecould no longer see Kyle's figure in the dark when he looked over hisshoulder. He paused and looked up at the beautiful clear sky, soclear that he felt he could see right through it, to differentplanets, different civilizations. Then, he kept walking on his routeto the park, the park he and Kyle had hung out at after school daysduring freshman year.

He felt as though hisheart was in his fingertips, beating as slowly as the irregularbreeze. He felt as though he were walking on stilts over theneighborhood he had been to hundreds of times prior. He felt on topof the world, the king, the god, in control and confident. Hisfeelings clashed with his insecurities, the fear he felt, the pain hefelt.

"I wonder if Kylebelieves in aliens," Doom wondered to himself as he crossed thestreet to a hill.

The houses wereterrifying to him, as he was afraid someone would turn their lightson and see him wandering around. They would call the police, perhaps,and he would be questioned while high.

High. He was. And hefelt good. Kyle wanted to know, and now he had an answer. He feltgood when he was high, and never, did he ever, feel good when he wassober. The years of alcohol binging and pill popping that caused Kyleto express his disgust, they were all to feel good. To feel like hewas in control of himself, like he was worth something.

Doom remembered lastsummer, when Kyle was staying with his grandparents in Arizona for acouple weeks, the letter he had gotten in the mail. It opened withKyle saying how bored he was and how he wished he was home, and therest was paragraph after paragraph of him begging for Doom to stopdrinking. Doom smiled to himself. His drinking had been bad then, hewas binging almost every other night. He would wake up with ahangover and before anything else, he would open another bottle ofvodka. He had lived the life of an alcoholic, slowly poisoninghimself to death in his bedroom at his mother's house, or his parentsbasement. Everyone knew, Kyle, Kyle's mother, his teachers, otherstudents at the school who never even spoke to him. Everyone knewexcept his own parents. If they knew, they did not care. Doom couldnot decide what was a worse reality: being unnoticed, or beingignored.

Kyle was always there,he was always there telling Doom to shape up.

"Boy, I really lethim down," Doom thought to himself as he stared into the yellowlight of the streetlight illuminating on the street.

The breeze ruffledthrough his hair and Doom could not help but smile, a genuine, happy,pure smile that no one had ever seen from him but Kyle. Kyle wasalways taking care of him, Kyle was always telling him how to takecare of himself

"What would I dowithout him?" Doom wondered to himself. He imagined his life, goingthrough high school without Kyle at his side. He could not do it."I'd kill myself without him."

Doom's mind wentblank. He felt a rush of worry through his body as he turned thecorner to the street the park was on. "Isn't that what I'm going todo with Kyle in my life?"

He walked down thedark street, where no streetlight was on, and the park lamp had burntout years ago, leaving it a dark, black hole in the center of a welllit, fancy suburban-dream neighborhood.

 Even in the dark, Doomcould see Kyle on the swing, waving at him. He had a lit cigarette inhis mouth, the orange glow of the lit end leading Doom to him like abedside lamp in a dark room. 

"Doom, I've been doing some thinking, and I've come up with a date," Kyle said boldly as Doom approached.

"A date?"

"April 30th, that's when it's time for Mass Retal."