Pete
April 4th
And so another dreadful day ends when the bell rings, signaling that the school day has ended.
I grab my shit from my last period class, speed walking out of the room.
All I want to fucking do is meet up with Travie, Brendon, and Dallon so we can all have a smoke together.
As I finally make my way to my locker, I see Dallon and Travie standing in front of it. They already have their backpacks on and seem ready to leave.
Dallon looks at me, a small smirk on his face. Travie takes notice to what Dallon is looking at and turns towards me. His face lights up.
"Aye, Pete!" We laugh and do a bro-hug, Dallon tolling his eyes, "we just gotta wait for Bren, then we can leave."
I nod, opening my locker and shoving all my shit in there.
As I put the stuff I need into my backpack, Dallon awkwardly starts talking to me—Travie distracted by some cheerleader across from us.
"Hey, So um...what-what's your deal with Patrick?" He asks.
I freeze, turning to him with a sharp look. He looks quite nervous.
"I-I just mean...what happened? Just, like, why do you got to hurt him like that? He's a sweet kid. You know when I was a Soul Punk he was so-"
I scoff, "You know, Dallon," I slam my locker shut, making him jump a bit and I face him, "I don't care about when you were one of them, alright? And to answer your question: he's stupid. He's dumb. He's just another thing in my-our way."
Dallon frowns at this.
"Dude, you see those thots?" Travie nudges my arm.
I sigh, facing him.
"Yes, Travis. I can see them." I say bored.
He just rolls his eyes, staring down the girls once again.
"What's up, faggots?" Brendon says as he arrives at my locker.
Travis laughs, Dallon just sighs. I look at the two, then at Brendon.
"Get your shit, then we're going to the church." I say.
"I LOVE JESUUUUUUS!!" He yells, running away towards his locker.
Dallon, Travie, and I brake out hysterically laughing.
"That's fucking kid." Travie puts his hand on my shoulder.
Dallon shakes his head with a smile as Brendon runs off.
———
"So, Pete, you and Ashlee done for good now?" Travie asks, lighting my cig.
"Yeah I guess so." I put it to my lips and breathe in the smoke.
The four of us sit in an abandoned church near my house. It's walls are all boarded up and shit, and the place looks really damn creepy from the outside, but once you actually enter, it's quite homey.
It's the "Royal Base."
Christmas Lights are strung all over the walls, lighting up the whole place. Blankets and pillows are spread out everywhere, a few big pillow forts here and there. There are also new flowers and old, dead ones around where they look nice.
We didn't do this, Ashlee did.
This whole place looks kind of gay now that there's no girl who comes here whenever the four of us do.
I blow the smoke out from between my lips, sighing in relief as the nicotine leaves off my tongue.
"Dallon why aren't you smoking?" Brendon asks.
And sure enough when I look over at Dallon, he's the only one not smoking. He looks upset too.
"Yeah, Dal, What's up?" I ask.
"Guys, it's just..." he shifts around uncomfortably, "I don't want to smoke. You know, I don't want to die a 45 from lung cancer."
Brendon rolls his eyes, "Dallon, just fucking do it. Why are you being such a fucking pussy?"
"Yeah." Travie adds.
And now Dallon looks like he's about to cry. He breathes out one time harshly.
"Guys, just let him do what he wants...it's his loss." I say.
Brendon scoffs, "Whatever."
Dallon looks so hurt.
Maybe I shouldn't give the kingdom down to Brendon. Maybe Dallon...I don't know anymore. But I don't have much time to decide.
Travie sighs, pulling out a thing of red rope-licorice. He tosses to Dallon, him catching it and looking confused.
"Just pretend to be smoking with it and eat it and shit, just so Brendon doesn't have a fucking stroke." He says a bit angry at Brendon.
Brendon makes a noise of disgust, "shut up, Travie."
Dallon puts a rope of licorice between his lips, laughing a bit. And I swear to god I see a small smile on Brendon's face.
"Brendon do you ever think about the consequences of your actions when you shove people in trash cans?" I blurt out.
"What?"
"Mikey Way."
He laughs, Travie taking a bit drag. Dallon just sits with his knees pressed against him chest, sleeves covering his hands and he has big eyes, biting into the licorice.
"I'm serious, Bren. Like Patrick is going to kill me if you don't stop."
"What? Pete, don't you want to be superior? This is how we do it." He exaggerates with his arms.
"Brendon."
He groans dramatically, "fine."
"Good."
Good.
