Ozymandias

A sunrise in Italy can be the most beautiful thing in the world. And so begins another day.
He had missed the sunrise this morning but didn’t seem to mind. Francesco sat and sipped his espresso; He finished his espresso and left his house. Every morning he passed an older man returning to his café from a walk. He arrived at the bus depot, where he worked, around 6:30 am. Just in time to leave with his bus. His first stop was at 7 am.
Luca woke up at 5 am to prepare for his day of work. The sun rose while he dressed. It was now 6:30 am. He walked down to the bus stop to take the 7 am bus. Each morning he greeted the bus driver, a middle-aged, slightly overweight, provincial man. The conversation never went past the greeting.
Roberto wiped the counter of his café. He had already completed his sunrise walk and had opened his café early today; he was in a good mood. Roberto entertained all types of customers, but his favorite customers were his friends. They would come over at night and sit around, watch old soccer games, sip espresso, and smoke cigars together. Until then Roberto put more gelato in the freezer, he knew that his grandchildren would be coming that night.
At his first stop Francesco picked up the same man as always. A younger man in his twenties probably; he was always the first person on the bus. “Ciao,” said Francesco.
“Ciao,” Luca said to the driver as he got into the bus. He took his regular seat by the window and waited until his stop. Luca looked out his window. The sun, still low in the sky, was on the rise. As he went to work he people-watched. Luca saw all sorts of people walking down the street, mostly café owners and shop keepers opening their businesses. There were a few children already leaving for school and the roads were full of businessmen. Luca liked people-watching and often found himself spending most of his free time doing this. Via del Carne. It was his stop. Luca got off and walked the half block to the butcher shop. As he reached the front window he noticed a big TV right inside the glass.
“What is this?” asked Luca.
“That, Luca, is what will bring in more business.” His boss, Toni, told him.
“Ha-ha what, are you going to play clips of the Italian national team? Or maybe some cartoons?” Luca joked.
“No… I’m going to put you on it.”
“What?!”
“Luca, we both know that you’re a show off, and you have incredible talent as a butcher. I’m going to showcase that to the public, and they will come in and buy our meat.” Toni explained.
Luca knew it was true, he loved a crowd and he was a performer. “Alright let’s try it out. Hey! How do I look?!” Luca asked jokingly as he posed for Toni.
“Great Luca, now scrub up and put your apron on, we’re opening.”
Roberto’s morning swarm was coming to an end and he decided to get lunch before his grandchildren came over. He closed up his café just in time to catch the bus into the city. As he climbed on the bus he greeted the driver cheerily. He was the same man he saw on his walk.
Francesco was almost to his first break of the day. It had been a fairly monotonous day, as most are. Driving in a big square back and forth, up and back. Day in and day out, Francesco drove the bus. He saw the older man whom he greeted each morning on his way to work and politely said hello. He cranked the doors shut and again set off, to complete yet another square. Finally it was time for his break. He stopped the bus and as he departed, a new, fresh driver entered the bus.
When the bus stopped to change drivers Roberto decided to leave the bus and walk. He liked to walk through the city. As he turned down Via del Carne he saw a group gathered around the butcher store. As Roberto walked closer he could see what everyone was looking at; there was a TV in the store front which showed the butcher chopping and cutting meat. This is not something one would find entertaining, yet this butcher had a charisma about him. It was a show to him; it was more than a job. Roberto knew how to put on a show. Once one of the great soccer players, he understood how to please a crowd. This was fascinating to him, but he remembered that he too would be entertaining his own crowd, his grandchildren, and he continued on to lunch.
Inside the store Luca was amazed. He was doing everything he normally did, except now there was a crowd cheering for him. He fed off this energy. The store had been busy all day, and Luca had to attribute this to Toni’s ingenious idea. The crowd kept growing and Luca fed off the energy. As improbable as it seemed, Luca was able to perform many tricks with his knives and he kept the crowd intrigued as if it was one of the Italian soap operas. Men, women, boys, girls, the old and the young, all were amazed and astounded by Luca’s abilities. Toni was beside himself with the potential of prosperity for his butcher shop. “Luca, my boy,” Toni said, “You keep entertaining them and we’ll be rich!” Luca just smiled.
Francesco decided to eat some lunch on this break. He knew the city like the back of his hand, and he knew the best cafés and restaurants. On this particular day Francesco decided to take a short cut. As he walked down the street he noticed a rather large and unusual crowd had formed. As he approached he saw the young man on a TV in the store front. He immediately recognized the young man as the man who was always the first person on the bus. Francesco went inside to purchase some meat for dinner. Once inside, he pushed through the sea of people and grabbed a number. 81. He heard a number yelled out, “50! Now serving number 50!” Francesco looked back down at his number in despair. Out of focus, on the ground, lost in the sea, was a number. Francesco bent down, “This must be my lucky day.” He thought to himself. As he picked up the number he saw that it was number 54.
Returning from lunch, Roberto walked back down Via del Carne. He wanted to see this prodigious performer who, oddly enough, was a butcher. He stopped at the store front and watched for 10 minutes. He watched how skillfully the young butcher handled his knives. How, with ease, the butcher was able to cut the meat and package it, not dully, but full of enthusiasm. It seemed as though he never cut or packaged the meat in the same way twice. He was good. The butcher reminded Roberto much of himself when he was younger. But now Roberto had more pressing matters, he had to return to his café before his grandchildren arrived. As he left the crowd burst into an uproarious applause.
With his meat in hand, Francesco climbed back into his bus to finish off his route for the day. That same elderly man entered the bus, “Ciao.”
“Como stai?” Roberto asked the driver as he climbed onto the bus. It was the same driver that he saw almost daily. As he sat down he looked out the window. The sun sat in the sky, almost as if it would just hang there forever. It was on its way down, nearing sunset.
It was a good day and Luca couldn’t help but smile to himself as Toni pushed out the last customers of the day. “Well Luca, what did I tell you?” Toni asked him.
“You were right Toni,” Luca said, “That was amazing.”
“Now when you get your own TV show, you don’t forget who started you off.” Toni was a smart man, and something in his voice made Luca laugh it off. He caught a glance at the clock. “Oy, I have to get going Toni, I’ll miss the bus. Ciao!”Toni smiled, “It’ll be prime-time television all day.” He said this as Luca smiled and rushed out of the store. Toni swept up, turned off the TV, and closed up shop for the night.
Just as Francesco was starting up the bus he saw someone far off running towards him. It was that butcher, the same one that rode the bus every morning. Francesco stopped the bus and let the butcher on.
“Mille grazie!” Luca said out of breath to the bus driver, the same one who bought meat from him earlier in the day. He went and sat down on the bus.
Francesco watched Luca through the rear view mirror as he started up the bus again and thought of the meat he had purchased earlier. He couldn’t wait to cook it later and was preparing the entire meal in his head during this final route.
Roberto eyed Luca as he got on the bus. Even outside of his workplace he carried himself with confidence and had a charisma about him. Roberto had a feeling that he was destined for the stars.
Luca sat down in his regular seat and began to stare out the window. “What a good day.” He thought to himself. Business was booming and he loved being on TV, even if it was closed circuit. Luca had always loved and thrived when he was given attention. As he sat watching the shops blur past him Luca knew that he was at the beginning of something great. As for now he was content watching people as he was driven past them.
Back at his café Roberto stood on the balcony watching the sunset. His grandchildren would be there any second. But for now, the sun hung low in the sky. It looked like a blood orange that his grandparents used to grow on their farm. Roberto always enjoyed the sunsets with their deep reds which bled into the oranges that spilled over into the blues with finally the arrival of the stars which trailed the sun. Roberto thought to himself that the moon had one this battle with the sun in their eternal war for the sky, but he knew that in the morning, the sun would win another battle.
Roberto sat at home, eating the meat which he had day-dreamed about preparing all afternoon. He knew that tomorrow would bring what today had brought, and he was ready to go through it all again.
Luca missed the sunset; he was getting dressed to go out that night. When he stepped back out onto the street the moon was already shining.
A sunset in Italy can be the most beautiful thing in the world. And so ends another day.

Untitled

He sat on the couch, lazily switching through the channels. Sitting, waiting, wishing he knew what was to come. He had been there for over an hour, beer cans scattered about the house and people sleeping where they had fallen. This was a typical scene on Saturday and Sunday mornings at the Sigma Phi house. As John sat there looking around, flipping from channel to channel, he realized how much he goddam hated this place. He had wanted to get away, from his mother and from his family. That’s why he went to the east coast. When he first arrived he was so excited. He was away from his mother, away from his crazy family, out on his own. He had joined the fraternity for God knows why; his friend Stan had talked him into it. He had no school spirit whatsoever. He told himself it was for all the sweet parties every weekend, all the hook-ups he’d get. But deep down he hated it all. He sat there, waiting for something to happen, wishing he knew what would come next. It was his senior year now, and he was majoring in business. He hated businessmen. John sat there contemplating all of this, staring blankly at the TV, when he was interrupted by the shouts of the football crowd. A new party was starting, the old one from last night not even over yet.
John decided to leave. He got up and started walking. He walked away from the house, down towards the park. His cell phone started to ring. He checked the caller ID; it was his Mom. Now isn’t the time, he thought to himself, but sucked it up. “Hello?” he answered questioningly as though he had no clue whose voice was to come out of the other end.
“John, why haven’t you called returned my calls?” She jumped in head first. John had to come up with some Grade A bullshit to keep her happy.
“I’ve been busy Mom, lots of tests and papers.” John didn’t pause at all, he had become accustomed to lying, “How are things back home, Mom?” John knew his Mom; she liked to hear he was interested in the family.
“Things are going well, John, but that’s enough about me, let’s talk about you, Big Man on Campus this year.” John rolled his eyes at the phone.
“Yea, one year left, it feels good.” John didn’t feel like talking at all, but before he could end the conversation, his Mother interrupted,
“Did you receive the care package I sent you? I baked those cookies special.” “Oh, yea, Mom thanks a lot for those, I had some last night, and they were delicious.” He had just entered the park and decided that he wanted to enjoy it. “Hey Mom, I gotta go right now, I need to run some errands before dinner,” he lied. “Love you, and hope everything is going well.” John hung up on her before she had a chance to respond, satisfied with the wool he had just pulled over his mother’s eyes.
As John walked deeper and deeper into the park he felt more and more relaxed. He did not have to deal with those fools back at the frat house, or with the fakeness of the people around him. He was in an almost completely relaxed state when his goddam phone rang again. Annoyed at the disturbance of his peace, he checked the caller ID. What a useful tool, he thought to himself as he answered the phone, “Hello?” The hinges on his flip phone were almost completely worn from the frequent use.
“Dude, where are you? It’s almost game time.” It was Stan, one of the few people John actually liked. He had answered the phone because he decided that he could use a good laugh.
John let out a slight laugh. “I’m running some errands; I’ll be back soon enough. The game doesn’t even start for three hours”
“You better hope your sweet-” The signal was lost and Stan was cut out for a second or two. When he came back in all John heard was, “-you will be.” Stan
John was thoroughly lost at this and laughed again,
“Ha-ha what’d you say?”
“Yea, that’s right.” Stan responded vaguely, nodding to himself as though John could see him through the phone.
“Ha-ha alright, I’ll see you in a little while…oh hey…who all is over there?” “EVERYONE! .... HEY EVERYONE…COME AND SEE HOW GOOD I LOOK!” Stan exclaimed while hanging up on his friend. John kept walking along, laughing at his conversation with Stan, forgetting about how much he hated the place he had left, and the place he was in.
John was well liked among his peers. Everyone knew him, he just didn’t know everyone else. To be honest, he didn’t care about them. He never lied to himself about that. He had four categories he put people in: Risen, Fallen, Cool, and Don’t Know/Don’t Care. The “Risen” list was composed of people who had gone from a status of unknown to a status of friendship. His “Fallen” list was reserved for people who had betrayed him, or fallen in with the wrong crowd. The “Cool,” or “Liked,” list had five people, maybe, on a good day. These were people who John cared about, one or two good buddies, his girlfriend. His goddam family wasn’t even on this list. The last list, “Don’t Know/Don’t Care,” is pretty self-explanatory, but these people can work their way up. John almost always went on first judgments. He never got to know one goddam person if they didn’t give a good first impression, unless they somehow proved themselves to him. John was very forgiving though, and offered redemption to those whom he liked. Those people ended up back on the “Risen” or “Cool” lists.
Anyway, John continued his walk through the park, contemplating his lists, sorting and resorting people. This kept him entertained for awhile. As he was passing a hot dog cart he realized that he had not eaten anything in awhile, so he stopped. “Hey Mac…wadaya have?” the vendor asked him.
“Hmmm,” John verbalized his contemplation, “I’ll take a hot dog with some ketchup and mustard.”
“Any drink with that?” The vendor asked as he was getting out the hot dog.
“No thanks, I’m good for now.”
“That’ll be $2.” The vendor told him. As John handed over the money he noticed a familiar tattoo on the vendor’s wrist. It was one that he was forced to get, along with all the other pledges at Sigma Phi. Still, not quite in a conversational mood, John decided to ignore the observation.
He continued along the path through the park, eating the hot dog. His goddam phone started to ring, again. He began to wonder why he even brought it along. He checked the caller ID, “God what would I do without it”, he thought to himself again. It was his girlfriend.
“John?” she asked.
“Yea?” he responded through a mouth still half full from his last bite.
“What are we going to do tonight? Isn’t there that party at your house for T.O.?” she asked him.
“Yea, there is…” his voice dropped off as though something had caught his eye. On a stretch of grass he saw a father and son playing catch with a baseball. He did not feel like talking “Hey, meet me over at my place and we can watch the game, and then maybe go out for drinks after,” he told her, still talking with his attention diverted.
“Ok, I’ll get ready; I’ll meet you there in an hour.” John hung up before she could say anymore. He had now passed the father and son, and was walking more quickly as a cool breeze blew.
It was starting to get dark, and he could see a yellow cab in the distance and hear the dull roar of traffic. He was getting close to the end of the park and back into the city. John began thinking, again, about his girlfriend. He thought about how much he liked her, and how cool and beautiful she was. At that moment his phone started ringing again. He checked the caller ID, and this time just let it ring. He was back on campus now and he could hear the noise from his house already. He checked his watch. The game didn’t start for another hour, yet he knew the pre-game party had been going strong for about three or four hours now. He walked in and saw the familiar slew of bodies, some passed out, some just sitting around. By the TV he saw Stan and all the other frat members, each with a girl. It was the usual scene. Stan yelled something at him, but he didn’t hear. He walked up to his room. His phone began to ring. John didn’t bother to check the caller ID, he didn’t even answer it. He let it ring as he sat down on his bed, his face in his hands. The phone kept ringing. He pulled out a bottle of “Mike’s Mix,” a highly potent alcoholic creation he had come up with in high school. He began to drink, his phone still ringing.

Holden's Voice

So I’m in the middle of the street, bored as hell, so I decide to give old Piznarski a call. He lives way the hell out in Studio City, and he’s one crazy sonuvabitch. One time he gave me this pudding. I mean, it was all chunky and, I still ate it. Turns out it was just some tapioca, but he was convinced he had played the greatest prank of all time. That’s what he does, he either hates your guts, or he plays around with you and tells you about goddam everything. He hated this one junior, man did I hear about that bastard everyday. How he was guna get that sonuvabitch one day, it’s been like a month, and he’s given up. He gets angry quite frequently and overreacts. Then denies it for Chrissake. “Don’t overreact again,” I’d say. He was always doing that, overreacting. But the thing that killed me were his denials of it. Now if you could just picture Mike, picture this guy, shortish brown hair, quite tall, and the thing that killed me, was when he would move his hands forward, then back towards himself, down by his crotch, and he would make these animal noises when he did it. He says he got those from his dog. Anyway, it became a subconscious thing, that’s the part that killed me..
One time when this guy Rex and I were over at Piznarskis’ house, his dog came out, now if you see this dog, then you’ll believe that’s where he got the noises from. So he’s got this little fat pug dog. I mean this dog is fat. And it’s small too. This dog is the coolest fat dog you will ever meet. He walks around the goddam house all day, an Mike will yell, “Come here Champ,” that’s his name Champ, and Champ will come running up, more like waddling because of his fatness, and you will know he is coming by all the goddam noises he makes. But Christ, I feel sorry for the kid, I mean him having a pacemaker and all.
He almost died once on a roller coaster ride, then again in track. I mean I feel sorry for the kid. Not being able to do that kinda stuff. But I guess he just ignores that, doesn’t let it get him down. It would probably depress me as hell if I had a pacemaker. I mean he can’t even play football anymore, and that was like his favorite sport. I remember the day when he came to tell us he couldn’t play anymore. Boy did he blow up, overreact even, but that is understandable. All I know is that if I had a pacemaker. It’d depress the hell out of me. But he’s a good kid, never let’s that get him down
Anyway, Mike and I had Latin together, and that was about it, but we are close as hell. He basically runs the show in Latin. He’s a goddam genius in that class for Chrissake. He’s getting an A+. I have no idea how, he’s always making sexual comments, disrupting class and everything. He doesn’t even know how. Latin Genius, that’s what we call him in there. He really gets a kick outta that. And boy does he overreact when he gets an A- on something. You know the type that have to get straight A’s or else. Well that was Mike, but only in Latin. If everyone bombed a test or quiz and he got an A- he would still say “Aw man, I only got a 91” or something like that. Anyway, we shoot the bull during that class a lot, and I guess he does better than me cuz he has already had 3 years previous of Latin I, so this is his fourth year.
So anyway, I call Mike up and we decide to meet. We decide to go to Kleinerts. It’s way the hell up in La Canada if you’ve never been there, a nice house, not to bad a drive for me, but one sonuvabitch for him. After we are all there we decide to order a pizza. And old Piznarski has to have his goddam ham. And when we object to it you know what he does, he goddam overreacts. It ends up taking us about half an hour of arguing and we finally give into Piznarskis’ ham. That’s one last thing, he’s a real stubborn sonuvabitch, that’s another thing about him that kills me, it really does. That’s all you need to know about old Mike Piznarski, we are eating his goddam ham pizza now.

Strike 3

Strike Three. It was like throwing a ball w/ a string attached to it, it shot right back into place. I yelled and immediately popped up. Coach looked over at me and asked, as calmly as he could, “Your shoulder pop out again?” I nodded and he gave me the keys to the training room to get some ice. I walked out of the gym, down the hallway, and into the training room. After I filled the bag with ice I looked at myself in the mirror. I thought back to when my shoulder first dislocated.
It was a hot day back in August. First day of pads, 2nd practice of the day. Tackling drill. I got low, and when I tried to tackle I just bounced off. I sat down, took my helmet off and said to the coach, “I think my shoulders out…” Meanwhile Iggy, now a freshman in college who helped coach, had started the drill in another part of the field. The trainer quickly came over and was able to pop my shoulder back into place. I was out for 2 months. Strike One. Not so bad I thought; even if I don’t get in this year I still have next year. I worked out and rehabbed as much as I could, and finally received a doctor’s note just before our last game. I was released to play. In practice that week it was obvious that I was rusty. At one point, Coach Fry, who was trying to turn me into a linebacker, yelled out, “THAT’S NOT HOW WE PLAY FOOTBALL! DON’T HALF-ASS THIS!” The very next play I made an outstanding tackle for a loss. Coach Fry ran over to me, and just hugged me, telling me, “That’s how you play football.” He then proceeded to hug every other defensive member. By the time the game came, I was ready to play. I was hungry for the action. I was put in on special teams. I missed a tackle and fell, my shoulder cracked. I ignored it. Four plays later I was playing linebacker. I read the play perfectly, sweep to my right. I crossed the line of scrimmage to make a nice tackle for a loss. But I bounced off again. My shoulder was out, but this time it wasn’t going back in easily. I threw my helmet down, not from pain, but out of frustration. I had to go to the ER. I had two choices once I got there: Get hopped up on painkillers so I wouldn’t feel anything, or go into the next room and get my shoulder popped in immediately. I chose the latter of the two, surprising the nurse. I walked into the next room and the doctor came in, he manipulated my shoulder blade and before I knew it, my shoulder was back in. It felt like a great pressure had suddenly just been relived, but nonetheless, Strike Two. I had rehabbed, I had worked out, only to get injured at Morning Madness, reaching for a basketball.
I walked back into the gym. The game was still going on. I walked out the other door into the cold, but sunny, Southern California morning. I checked the time on my cell phone. It was 7:15. I had been at school since 6 am for this practice. I called my parents and my doctor. I had an appointment that afternoon. I had seen my orthopedic surgeon more in the last few years than I had seen my regular doctor.
After describing how my shoulder popped out there was a long silence. Dr. Gilbert broke the silence with, “You’re going to need surgery.” I fired back with, “But I don’t want to play football next year…” Another pause. Dr. Gilbert is a man who does not like surgery; he will have you avoid it at any cost. But he told me again, “I still suggest the surgery.” I went through the rest of the visit in a fog. In fact, I went through the next few weeks in a fog. I had an MRI and I met with my surgeon. The fog continued.
As I sat down to do an essay re-write for English class, my parents called me into the kitchen, along with my brother and sister. My mom beat around the bush, but finally told us that our oldest brother had cancer. He was only 24. This hit me like a ton of bricks. The fog I was in had masked this until it was right in my face. WHAM! I talked to my brother later that night, and I had nothing to say to him. He’s seven years older than me, I have known him for all 17 years of my life, and I was speechless. We had nothing to say. He didn’t know what to say to me, and I had no clue where to even begin. So we sat on the phone, in silence. How could we have nothing to say? It was ridiculous. It was inexplicable. Finally he told me he was going to bed, and we had an awkward good-bye. But how could we have nothing to say? I’m going in for surgery in two weeks and he has cancer, and we have nothing to say. But life goes on.

Life has gone on for nearly 6 months now. My surgery was a success and my shoulder is almost back to normal. My brother, now cancer-free is working at a restaurant up in San Francisco. But 4 months ago this was not the case. Four months ago we were in the middle of it all. My brother’s chemotherapy, my shoulder rehab, it was all there, and it was all current. Now it seems like something far and distant. My brother inspired me to live life and to enjoy every second I have with someone. It is a time I will always draw from. A time I will never forget.

A Perfect Day

The day had finally come; Billy and George had been planning this forever. They were to ditch school today. As their mothers woke them up they jumped out of bed, and ran into their respective showers. They were so excited for the day that they forgot to take off their pajamas. School would be over in a week and other schools were already out. But Billy and George couldn’t wait a week, the day was too nice and they had been planning this all year. Each acted as though nothing was out of the ordinary and after they showered they got dressed and ate breakfast. After leaving their respective homes they met at Al’s fresh produce. After that they continued on to the beach.

It had been a hard night of partying for Mike and he woke up to find himself floating in the middle of a pool. He paddled to the edge and struggled to land as the sun glared down on him. He rubbed his eyes and looked around. Bodies lay everywhere, it was as if an army of red plastic cups had invaded overnight and there were 3 kegs which lay empty on the lawn. Mike smiled to himself. He looked at his phone, it was 11. He had slept enough. School had ended just the day before and summer had truly started off with a bang. He took his keys out of his pocket and began to make his way through the house. He couldn’t believe all the people and when he reached the front door he turned around in amazement and stood in awe at all the bodies. He turned and went out the front door, slamming it behind him.

Billy checked his watch, it was 11. He and George had been hiding for like 3 hours; surely the coast was clear by now. He nudged George and told him to check, the coast was clear and they left their closet hiding space and made their way to the beach through town.

Mike, upon starting his car, realized how hungry he was. He hit the gas and sped off, thinking of where to eat. All of a sudden two kids pop out of nowhere. Mike hit the breaks, honked his horn, and swerved simultaneously.

George screamed as Billy pulled him back from the swerving car. It was a close call, but they were all right, and the drive had just kept going. They looked down the road, they were almost out of town and there had been no problems with the exception of almost being hit by a car. They thought themselves very fortunate for not having been seen. Once out of town it was still a good 10 minute walk to the beach. They looked at each other then continued walking, almost out of town.

Mike looked behind him and saw the boys just walk off. “Thank God,” he thought to himself. He had decided to go to Lucky Boy to eat. He pulled into the parking lot and parked. When he got up to the counter he decided to get a bacon breakfast burrito and an orange bang. He took his receipt and waited for number 81 to be called. He sat in a booth and waited. His number was called and he got his food. As he sat down a group of people walked in. They were his friends, they sat and ate with him. After they finished they decided to go to the beach.

Well out of town now George was getting worried that people were looking for them. Billy kept a level head and told him to relax. All of a sudden it hit them, the sea air, it was glorious. They began to run towards the aroma and started hearing the crash of waves against the rocks, they ran faster. They arrived at the sight simultaneously. They stood in awe for a moment or two just looking out into the ocean, and then they began to climb down the rocks.

Mike had just hit 80 mph and checked his review mirror, he wasn’t taking this race seriously, and he knew his Audi had a lot more power. They were all back there somewhere. He slowed up and waited for them. Once they caught up he would floor it again and be gone. Mike reached the beach a couple of minutes before the rest. He opened his door and looked out at the ocean.

George and Billy finished skipping their stones and lay down on the rocks. They didn’t think anything could be this fun. Ditching school made this beach trip that much better, it made the air that much sweeter and the day that much nicer. They were happy. The serene methodical sound of the waves was broken by car engines and tires screeching. They sat up and looked back.

Mike was staring. He was looking at the two boys down on the rocks. His friends had arrived and were yelling at him. He shook his head and took his eyes off the boys. He walked over to his friends and took a shot.

Billy and George saw the group of highschoolers and chose to ignore them, they knew they wouldn’t be bothered. Tomorrow the two would have to go back to school, they would have to explain their actions. But it wasn’t tomorrow, it was now, and they continued watching the pelicans and listening to the waves.