Thanks to Jimmy, we went through the majority of freshman year out of the line of fire from bullies. We'd get hazed in the halls, but Jimmy always seemed to come around before shit really hit the fan. Our little group expanded. In the middle of the year a strange kid who wouldn't tell anyone his name joined the group. We were reluctant at first, but Michael and I wanted to start a band and he was a fantastic drummer. He killed himself the end of sophomore year, God rest his soul. Or not. I hear hanging yourself from the rafters in your garage is a sin.
Soon the table was full, but none of us flattered ourselves that we were the reason of the group. True, we all had a lot in common. Black was a constant, and so were bruises for a lot of us. We all came from broken or dysfunctional families, and we all practically worshipped Jimmy. Most days of the week, he'd just sit there, listening and keeping us out of harm's way. But Fridays, Fridays were the best. Friday was the day when Jimmy started talking.
The first day, he told us about tagging. How the graffiti that we'd all noticed popping up around the city was all him, the messages that said things like 'son of rage and love' and 'the kids of war and peace' with silhouettes of a boy slouching with baggy clothes. Some of them haven't been painted over yet. The next week, on Friday, no one dared to talk. When new kids came along, they were usually smart enough to follow our example and just shut up when Jimmy started.
One day, our newest member, some skinny kid whose name I still couldn't care less about, had the audacity to start chatting as Jimmy was telling us about running from the cops after his latest tagging episode. Jimmy noticed and stopped talking, just gazing intently at the kid. Finally the guy got a clue and shut his trap, and then Jimmy said something I'll never forget.
"Listen, kid," he started, making eye contact. Ironically, Jimmy was just a year ahead of us. We were all still afraid of him, no matter how much protection we got from him. Anyways, he continued, all of us dumbstruck and staring: "You talk incessantly every day of the week. It's Friday, and I figure every once in a while you all might want to hear something worth hearing. So shut the fuck up on Fridays and just listen. Don't like it, there are plenty of other tables you can sit at." And so began the unspoken rule to shut the fuck up on Fridays. Any words from Jimmy were far too valuable to miss.
A/N: I guess I'm posting this all in one go, so no waits for updates. Yay!
