Underneath the Surface (On Hold)

1: Caught

'Nick, fuck man! Hurry up!'

Dean jogged me and pointed to the man on the other side of the street. The man quickly lowered his head and whispered something to the phone he was holding against his ear.

'I think that motherfucker is calling the cops.'

Dean showed him a fuck finger and grabbed our stuff. I finished the graffiti message on the wall I had been working on and we ran for it, laughing loudly while the man who had been watching us shook his head. The principal of Elm High would be the laughing stock of the entire school after people had seen our work on one of the outer walls of the school building.

'You got it man,' Dean smirked. 'At first, I thought you were a real pussy, but now...'

He grabbed two cigarettes out of the pocket of his worn-out leather jacket and tossed me one. I held it up between my teeth so he could light it for me. Dean rubbed his shaved head, inhaled deeply and grinned. 'Now, you're my hero. And tomorrow you're the hero of the whole school. Mark my words man.'

I grinned, inhaled and hoisted my backpack over my right shoulder. I think I felt proud.

We casually walked over to the street I was living in. It was a fucking miserable street, with mostly wooden houses, peeling paintwork and a lot of weed. People that lived here either didn't have enough money to properly maintain their properties or just didn't care enough to do it.

Dean patted me on the back and we performed our handshake.

'See yah, my man!'

I dumped my cigarette in what you can call our yard, watched as Dean disappeared out of sight and walked up to the front door of the house I was living in with my dad. As soon as I went inside I smelled the familiar scent of cigar smoke and cheap detergent that had to mask it. The house wasn't that big. The front door offered immediate access to a small living room, which contained an old leather couch, a lounge chair where my dad was sitting in when he wanted to relax, a coffee table and a cabinet with the TV, photos and some books. Behind two opened sliding doors was a small dining area and our kitchen. I heard noise coming from over there.

'Nick, that you?' yelled my dad.

'Yeah, it's me!'

'Grab some plates, will yah. Dinner is ready in five.'

He peeped his head from behind one of the glass sliding doors and I noticed his eyes were red.

'You've been crying again?' I mocked. 'That won't bring her back you know.'

'I have son and shut your perky mouth about it.'

He disappeared again and I climbed the small staircase to my room, which was one of the two bedrooms on the second floor that only contained these rooms and a bathroom. I closed the door behind me. My room wasn't big either, but it contained everything I needed. There was a bed, a closet, a desk with a chair and lots of posters of my favorite bands and artists. I pulled out a carton box from under my bed and put the paint from my backpack in it before pushing it back.

'Nick! Plates!' my dad yelled from downstairs.

'Yeah, yeah. I'm coming all right!'

*

'Where have you been? You were supposed to be home to help me with shopping for groceries.'

Dad looked angrily at me and put his fork with pasta in his mouth. His eyes were still red and a bit swollen and his dark hair was a mess.

'Out,' I replied.

'Could you be more vague?'

'Out with Dean.'