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Walking up the stairs...
Walking up the stairs, I get to the floor my apartment is on. I go to try and open the large black door to my only home to find that it is locked. I begin to pound on it so my mother can let me in, but the only response I get from her is sloppy yelling. She is drunk. “How could you let him drive, you knew he was drunk.” “Mom I am tired of this, just let me in.” She just kept going on and on about that night not so very long ago.
“Mom let me in or I will break through the door,” I say coolly. There was no reply. Crack, and the door was on the ground. As I walk in and lift the door off of the ground she begins to throw nearby objects at me. I quickly stand the door up and rune to restrain her, while screaming “what are you doing mom, have you gone mental.” As I grab her arms to stop the flying objects she slaps me and silently stumbles to the couch to pass out.
Now that she was finally unconscious, and seeing it was only 3:45 p.m., I set out to fix the damage that was done. It was around 5:00 p.m. when I finally got the house in order and the door temporarily fixed. Not but a second after I finished cleaning up, the phone rings. I answer. “Hello.” “What’s up man, you ready for the party.” “Oh dang man, I completely forgot about it, don’t worry. Swing by in five minutes I will be ready.” Click. Seeing as I had no time to shower I ran to my room and grabbed a plain white T-shirt that showed off my muscles. After slipping on the shirt I went a little heavy with the body spray then sprinted for dear life to the parking lot down stairs.
I can see him driving up the road in his dad’s new BMW, the music blaring, the sweet silver of the car glistening in the setting sun. As I am hoping into the passenger seat I can feel the heat of the sun on the slick, gray, leather seats. “What took ya man.” “Sorry Dylan, having mom troubles again.” The new T.I. album blares from the stereo as we drive and try to keep our conversation going. “Dude when is your mom going to let it go. It was three months ago and it is not like you let your dad drive, he made you give him the keys.” “Ya I don’t know man.” “My mom just ain’t been the same since that night, but let’s drop it man. Tonight is all about fun.” We drive in awkward silence until an old song comes on and we both start to sing: “Lem’me hear ya say…. Big things poppin and lil things stoppin…. Hey…. Lem’me hear ya say Big things poppin and lil things stoppin,” and so on and so forth.
As the song comes near an end we pull up at the huge, white, multimillion-dollar house on the ocean. It seemed to have billions of glistening windows, extravagant yard, and heated swimming pool and so much more I don’t want to think about it. As we were walking to the door I hear Dylan say, “dang boy, I wish my parents had the money to buy a place like this." I laugh and reply, “dude this is just Dave’s weekend house.” As we entered the house the sound of the loud music and all the underage, drinking teens hit me like a head-on collision.
We wandered until we got separated; I didn’t look to hard for him with all of the cute girls around though. Finally, I find the table with all of the alcohol. I had taken a class on time in the past, so I began to mix myself a drink. All the time thinking to myself, “2/3 whiskey, 1/3 Pepsi, and on shot of everclear.” After I successfully conduct the drink I wander to find Dylan. He is staring at a group of girls in our grade. “What you staring at man?” “Mario, dude she is so beautiful.” “Who?” “Madison, she is amazing in those cute little boots, that tiny skirt, and that skin tight tank top.” “Dylan.” “Ya man.” “You need some serious help.” We both laugh at what I just said.
The party seemed to already be dying out, so I continue to sip my drink, which is making me feel pretty good right about now. Dylan nudged me. “What’s up,” I ask? He just tilts his head to the door. I look. In walked Tyler Peterson, the most popular jock in the school. He is white in a minority black school, but nobody will mess with him. He stands there towering several inches above the rest of the people in the crowd. He is wearing his usual American Eagle polo, torn and faded jeans with his worn-out letter men’s jacket. The thing that hit me most was not that he was here, but who he came here with. “Sarah,” I said quietly. I could feel my hands instantly turn into rock slabs. I am just about to march over there and teach Tyler a lesson when Dylan pulls me back. “Lem’me go Dylan, he is with Sarah.” “Dude, don’t worry, just chill out.” “You and Sarah broke up last week, remember.” “Ya, Dylan, but still.” “Dude just let it go.” “Fine but let’s get out of here man, I can’t stand to see Sarah with that guy.”
As we were heading to the car Tyler ran up and grabbed my arm, “some catch, huh, man.” He winks at Sarah. “To bad you didn’t have the b**** to keep her.” Tyler begins to laugh. I can feel my blood boiling like a pot of water on a hot stove. My anger starts to get the best of me and before I know it I am flying at him screaming, “Tyler.” He turns to face me. BAM, one punch to the face. I can feel the cartilage of his nose break under my fist. Blood began to spray like a garden hose. Everyone begins to stare as I stand towering over his lifeless body, fist still clenched but now dripping blood. “Man nice punch but we better get out of here before some trouble starts.” “Ya, sorry Dylan I didn’t mean for it, I just couldn’t help.” “Dude it is fine, let’s just get out of here!”
We try another attempt to walk over the dew-covered grass to the car. When we finally manage to get to the car Sarah begins to run at us yelling, “Mario, wait, I am not mad, just please talk to me, Mario!” I look at Dylan. “Just get in and drive, I don’t want to talk to her.” We speed off in that great silver bullet, watching Sarah wane away in the rear-view mirror. We drive around for a bit so I can clear my mind and Dylan can find an Arby’s to eat. He is always hungry. As he is eating his roast beef sandwich, I take his pop and gently place it on my hand. “What’s up man, your hand bothering you.” “A bit,” I reply. I then take his napkin and try to clean my hand. “That looks bad dude, it’s broke for sure.” “Ya, but I ain’t going to no hospital. I got wraps back at my place lets swing by there.”
As we go to pull into the parking lot outside my apartment we see the cherries on two police cars flash violently. “How much you want to bet those are for me,” I say shakily. “Dude what are ya going to do, you cant get in that much trouble for one punch. Can you?” “Ya, I don’t know what I am going to do.” “Just pull in and let me out, I will deal with it.” As he comes to a stop outside the entrance to the building I get out fast without a word and shut the door. I am ready for the punishment and walk up to my apartment room. When I reach the doors I find they are unlocked this time. I get ready and with my head down I turn the doorknob and push open the door.
The lights are on bright, I can’t see a thing, and I stumble for a bit than finally my eyes adjust. I looked around. There was my mom on the couch, but no cops. “Mom where are the cops, why are they parked outside?” “Oh the neighbors down the hall got busted with drugs again, but that’s California for ya.” “But on a new subject, Where have you been. You never told me you were going out.” I shout, “Oh and how was I supposed to tell you when you got drunk and passed out on the couch. But only after locking out of the house.” I walk to my room, completely ignoring her now. When I get in and close the door I lock it behind me. My head is spinning, I can barely handle the fact that the cops weren’t here for me. Maybe Tyler won’t turn me in; maybe he will only kill me the next time I see him. I lay in bed thinking about the night’s events and slowly drift off to sleep.
“Get up, it’s nearly noon.” I had come so accustomed to this that I just said my regular reply of “I’m up” and continued to lay in bed. The sun is peeking through the blinds and no matter where I move my head the light seems to find it. It was almost blinding so I decided it was time to start my day. So I jumped out of bed and that is when I noticed that there was blood all over my sheets. My hand had bled in my sleep. It doesn’t hurt, isn’t bleeding, but sure looks like crap. I thought to myself for a moment, “if my hand looked this bad then what was his face like.” After pondering on that subject for a while I decided I should get dressed, so I grabbed some sweat pants and another all white T-shirt and put them on.
I then went out of my room to see what my crazy mother had cooked for lunch, or in my case breakfast. As I entered our small but cozy kitchen I stared at our big, black, Maytag stove to see nothing was cooking. I then decided I would just have cereal, so I poured myself a bowl of honeycombs. As I sat at the long, black, sleek kitchen table I noticed a note my mother left for me: “Mario, went out with the girls. See you tomorrow morning.” I couldn’t help but say, “god I know I drink a lot but I pray I never turn out like her. I mean she is out already and it is only noon.” I finished my food and went to go start the dishes. I am nearly finished when Dylan appears right behind me. I must have looked as white as a ghost. “Thought you’d be in jail right about now.” “Dang Dylan, don’t scare a guy like that, and no the cops weren’t here for me. It was another drug bust down the hall.” “Dang, here I think you would’ve been better off in jail.” “Dylan man, what are ya talking about? You starting to freak me out if ya keep talking like that!” Dylan replies, “well the way I hear it is that since last night Tyler has a thing for pounding on you.” I burst out laughing and Dylan gets a weird look on his face. “Wow, Dylan man is that it. Here I thought it was something big. Dude I knew he would want revenge and I am fine with that.” “But Mario, this is Tyler Peterson we are talking about here.” “Ya I know and I am fine, so drop it. NOW!” “Ok Mar. I get it.”
“So what are your plans today.” “Dylan, honestly man, my plans are to lay on that couch and relax. ALONE!” “Ok. I get it. I will just see you later dude.” Finally, peace and quite with the house to myself. I run and jump on to our tan, velvety couch, it is so comfortable that it feels as if I am laying on clouds. I lay on the clouds and slowly drift off to a dreamless sleep.
BAM! BAM! BAM! “California police, answer the door.” I slowly sit up and reply “ya I am coming.” I quickly hop up and run to the door to let the police in. When I opened the door, there stood two white, male police officers. They were both dressed in blue uniforms, had brown hair, light stubble and stunk of stale tobacco. “Are you Mario Anderson,” one of the police officers said. “Yes I am,” I replied. “Is something wrong officer.” “Mario Anderson, you are under arrest for the assault of one Tyler Peterson. Your mother has been notified and is down at the station ready for you.” CLICK! And the handcuffs were on. “Sir I am going to have to read you your rights,” said the same police that spoke before. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law. You have the right to an attorney.” It went on and on, just like in the movies, but this was no movie. It was oh so real.
They walked me across the hall and down the stair to the parking lot were they put me, forcefully, into their squad car to bring me down to the station. When we pulled up to the station I saw my mom’s car in the parking area and I knew I was either about to be out of trouble or wish that Tyler had killed me that night. They lead me through the doors and the first thing I see is my mom standing by the counter talking to another officer who handed my mother some papers. “Mom,” I shout. She slowly walks up to me and the police stop leading me. “Mom you got to help me, I have never been in trouble before with the law, I don’t know what to do.” She walks so close now I can see the tears in her eyes, and she hugs me. “Honey, if you did hit that boy then admit it. You will get a court date and in a little bit of trouble but at least you can come home for now.” I turn from my mom and face the cops. “I did it, I punched him, I am sorry but he was asking for it.” They smile and take the handcuffs off of me. “Your mom has talked to us and knows everything about what will happen. You seem like a good kid that got in a little fight, don’t sweat it. Kids will be kids right?”
I smile at mom and she smiles back as a tear trickles down her cheek as if stuck in slow motion. We then head out to the car with her arms around my shoulders. Once in the car and on my way home I fall asleep quickly and quietly. Then next morning I wake up in my bedroom. “How did she get me up to my room,” I say to myself. Completely uncaring about the matter anymore I get up out of bed and without getting dressed, seeing as I was still very tired, I went out to the living room. I looked around and not seeing any signs of life plopped onto the couch and got comfortable. I said to myself just before falling asleep again, “alone again like always.”