I don’t know if I’m cool enough for this. I’m afraid I’m not going to be able to talk.
Clay pulls into the front yard and turns off his truck. He shoves his bag of coke and his lighter and cigarettes into his pocket.
I get nervous instantly and my boner goes away.
A guy walks up to us. His eyes sparkle like a dog’s in the headlights. He has lots of tattoos and he’s wearing a black T-shirt with the sleeves cut off. His arms are muscular and his complexion makes him look like he has a thin coating of oil all over him, like a car mechanic. He’s tough-looking, but skinny, like a bull dog puppy. He has two black pitbulls on leashes.
“Miller’s here. Rad.” Clay jumps out and runs over to the guy and throws his arms around him. “Aloha, brah! Welcome back. How was Guam?”
“It sucked, brah. Tree snakes everywhere.”
I get out of the truck, feeling stupid that I don’t know anyone. My outfit isn’t near punk enough for this party. I nod to the guy and Clay looks over at me like he forgot I was here.
“Miller, brah, this is my boy Sam.”
I nod to him, trying to seem tough. “Aloha.”
“Aloha, dude. Howzit?” He gives me a warm smile, which feels good, like soft warm sunlight on my face.
I follow him and Clay up to the house. On the front porch, kids hang out on old couches and chairs. A guy with a green mohawk barbecues on a greasy grill. Beer cans and plastic cups are thrown everywhere. A burned-up mattress is discarded by the side of the house. It’s cool, a whole new world I didn’t even know existed. It’s anarchistic. It’s crazy. It’s like the kind of place where you can do anything.
We go inside the trashed house. There are lots of couches, extension cords everywhere, empty beer bottles all over the floor, and a pile of skateboards by the front door. Huge speakers scream out NOFX and Rancid and all the music I really like. Surf posters cover the walls and a goat skull hangs above the stereo system, which looks like the most expensive thing in the room. Groups of shorthaired, tanned, skinny, muscular dudes walk in wearing skateboard T-shirts and cut-off cargo pants. Girls with dyed black hair hang out and laugh. They all seem cool, but intimidating, partly because they’re all older than me.
I look like I live with my overly-protective parents. I sit on the couch, which is coated with dog hair.
Clay flops down on a chair across from me, right next to the keg. He nods to the music and bangs the drumbeat on the arm of the chair. “Better than middle school birthday parties, eh, brah?” He looks fucked-up. His pupils are huge and he has a grin that’s halfway between scared and ecstatic.
I get up for a beer. “I’m 16, dude.” I punch him lightly on the arm. Too lightly. I hope I didn’t seem like I just wanted to touch him.
“I know , brah. Just playing with you.” He pumps the air pressure thing on the keg for me while I fill my plastic cup.
I’m being too literal. This always happens to me when I get nervous and feel like I have to prove myself.
A guy walks into the room.
Clay jumps up. “Franky-boy! Howzit?” They hug each other, then Clay looks at me. “Franky, this is Sam. He looks like he could use some
Clay pulls into the front yard and turns off his truck. He shoves his bag of coke and his lighter and cigarettes into his pocket.
I get nervous instantly and my boner goes away.
A guy walks up to us. His eyes sparkle like a dog’s in the headlights. He has lots of tattoos and he’s wearing a black T-shirt with the sleeves cut off. His arms are muscular and his complexion makes him look like he has a thin coating of oil all over him, like a car mechanic. He’s tough-looking, but skinny, like a bull dog puppy. He has two black pitbulls on leashes.
“Miller’s here. Rad.” Clay jumps out and runs over to the guy and throws his arms around him. “Aloha, brah! Welcome back. How was Guam?”
“It sucked, brah. Tree snakes everywhere.”
I get out of the truck, feeling stupid that I don’t know anyone. My outfit isn’t near punk enough for this party. I nod to the guy and Clay looks over at me like he forgot I was here.
“Miller, brah, this is my boy Sam.”
I nod to him, trying to seem tough. “Aloha.”
“Aloha, dude. Howzit?” He gives me a warm smile, which feels good, like soft warm sunlight on my face.
I follow him and Clay up to the house. On the front porch, kids hang out on old couches and chairs. A guy with a green mohawk barbecues on a greasy grill. Beer cans and plastic cups are thrown everywhere. A burned-up mattress is discarded by the side of the house. It’s cool, a whole new world I didn’t even know existed. It’s anarchistic. It’s crazy. It’s like the kind of place where you can do anything.
We go inside the trashed house. There are lots of couches, extension cords everywhere, empty beer bottles all over the floor, and a pile of skateboards by the front door. Huge speakers scream out NOFX and Rancid and all the music I really like. Surf posters cover the walls and a goat skull hangs above the stereo system, which looks like the most expensive thing in the room. Groups of shorthaired, tanned, skinny, muscular dudes walk in wearing skateboard T-shirts and cut-off cargo pants. Girls with dyed black hair hang out and laugh. They all seem cool, but intimidating, partly because they’re all older than me.
I look like I live with my overly-protective parents. I sit on the couch, which is coated with dog hair.
Clay flops down on a chair across from me, right next to the keg. He nods to the music and bangs the drumbeat on the arm of the chair. “Better than middle school birthday parties, eh, brah?” He looks fucked-up. His pupils are huge and he has a grin that’s halfway between scared and ecstatic.
I get up for a beer. “I’m 16, dude.” I punch him lightly on the arm. Too lightly. I hope I didn’t seem like I just wanted to touch him.
“I know , brah. Just playing with you.” He pumps the air pressure thing on the keg for me while I fill my plastic cup.
I’m being too literal. This always happens to me when I get nervous and feel like I have to prove myself.
A guy walks into the room.
Clay jumps up. “Franky-boy! Howzit?” They hug each other, then Clay looks at me. “Franky, this is Sam. He looks like he could use some
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