Class of '97

12. Rememberence

September 26, 1993 12:40 pm

"Kill yourself, Holland."

Fourteen year old Kyle was about to turn around and see who had said this to him when he felt a hand on the back of his neck, and the next thing he knew, his head had been shoved inside his locker.

He quickly pulled himself out and regained his composure, looking down the hallway at the group of people who laughed at him as they left. "My ma was wrong," he thought to himself. "High school isn't going to be any different."

Kyle took his books, looking through them trying to decide which he needed to bring home for homework. After he looked a moment, he decided he was not going to do any homework anyway and shut his locker. As he did so, he was bumped into from behind. At first he thought it was the intentional shove of one of his tormentors, but when he turned he saw that it was another kid getting pushed. A scrawny kid with floppy blonde hair stumbled into the lockers, falling so that his face pressed against them right next to Kyle. A different group laughed and they scattered off before a teacher caught them.

"Are you all right?" Kyle asked genuinely concerned. He examined the boy, skinny and weak, wearing all black with a chain on his pants. "No wonder he's being pushed around," Kyle thought.

The boy looked up at him terrified, got to his feet and scurried off without even a response.

Kyle frowned and mumbled "rude" before he slung his backpack over his shoulder and walked down the hallway to the doors in the front, hoping his tormentors would not be around any of the corners he turned. He was quick to escape the campus and walk down the road in the heat towards his house that was a ways away, on the other side of the railroad tracks. He saw a couple of rough looking kids pushing each other around on the other side of the street. He was not afraid to watch them because they were middle-schoolers, and Kyle was sure he could beat them up if he needed to, just to prove his superiority.

When he crossed under the train bridge, the atmosphere changed. The potholes in the road were not patched, the sidewalks were cracking and crumbling and in some areas only dust. Houses stood like stumps of trees, lawns were unmanicured and filled with trash and waste. Angry dogs attached to chains lunged and barked at Kyle as he passed. Little boys played shoeless in the street, pretending to smoke cigarettes and drink out of tossed beer cans. Drunk single mothers sat on the front steps watching them with somber expressions as they chain-smoked a pack of Marlboros.

Kyle's house was in the center of a street. It was quiet in front of his house, no children played, no cars screeched by, no drunks yelled and threw cans into the street. He opened the unlocked door and saw his sick mother sprawled out on the couch before the television set.

"Hi ma," he said quietly.

"What's wrong sweetheart?" she asked immediately.

"Nothing, I'm fine."

"School was tough again, wasn't it?" she asked.

Kyle put his bag on the table, noticing a pair of dirty work boots standing in his kitchen. He nearly jumped when he looked up and saw his uncle smirking at him.

"Jesus Christ! I didn't see you there!" Kyle exclaimed.

"Kyle!" his mother called. "Don't say God's name in vain!"

"Hey there, bud, what's up?" his uncle greeted coolly. He sipped a glass of water he had poured for himself.

"What are you doing here?" Kyle asked.

"Just stopped by to give some things for your ma to keep. Damn, I'll be fucked, you're so goddamn big now! How old are you, like twelve?"

"I'm fourteen," Kyle said semi-annoyed.