Thread: "Friends" -A short story by: -->

"Hey, Guys! W-wait up!" Jouque stammered, running after a few of his friends who had begun the walk home. Jouque was a 'popular kid,' one of those kids in school who almost everybody knew, because he was always doing something crazy. Once, he even punched a teacher, because he "just plain didn't like her much," as he put it. He always dressed in all black, and usually covered as much of his skin as possible, as he liked his pale complexion. He dyed his hair black, even though he was naturally light brown, so as to match his clothes. He did have a slight stutter, but most of the time, it was quite unnoticeable. "Oh, great, here comes Mr.Im-Perfect" Steve muttered under his breathe as Jouque caught up with the group. The small group of kids stopped to let their friend catch up, laughing as he had to half-run since he was wearing so many chains he couldn't fully outstretch his legs. "So, you guys w-wanna hit up that 7-11 again?" Jouque suggested, referring to a gas station located on their walk home. "Naa, they almost caught us last time there..." replied Jill with some hesitation. Steve chimed in, "We could go back to that Wal-mart, I heard they repainted that wall too." "You mean that one we s-spent 3 hours sprayin up last week?" Jouque's stuttering was more noticeable than usual.
"Ya…I guess we need to go back and teach em a lesson" Steve said, getting excited at the prospected fun. "Hey, guys, I don't wanna get caught…I got busted last week, and my dad said if I get caught doin anything stupid again, I wont be able to walk for a week." Jill hesitantly replied, a chord of fear in her voice. At this, Jouque scoffed, "tell yer dad he can go suck on a s-shotgun for all you care…hey guys, lets go, lil miss p-pansy over here jus is chickenin' out on us." Jill began to get angry, "You just don’t understand! My parents aren’t like your parents! If I screw up, its not 'try harder next time,' its 'get to your room before I beat your a**' and even then, he usually does anyway!" With this, Jill began to get teary-eyed, and turned and began to walk towards her house, in fear that her friends might see her cry. "Yeesh, someone hasn't taken their Midol." Jouque commented sarcastically, evoking laughter from his friends.
They continued down the sidewalk, scheming as to what damages they might be able to cause the Wal-mart for removing their art, when Jouque began to get hot, after all it was 93 degrees out, and he was wearing long black jeans, a long-sleeved, black shirt, with a black short sleeved-shirt underneath, and more belts and buckles and straps on it all than you could count. Without thinking, he took off his long sleeved shirt, revealing his arms, which had numerous cut-marks from where he had been cutting himself with an exacto-knife. Steve quickly noticed this, and seizing a chance to prove that Mr.Im-Perfect isn't so perfect, quickly asked, "So, uhh, Jouque, just how did you get those cuts on your arms?" a hint of smugness in his voice. "Oh! These?" Jouque stalled, attempting to come with an excuse, "I've been trying to build up my pain t-tolerance! Bet you'd cry like a sissy if you got cut like this, huh? N-not me!" Steve scoffed, slightly agitated that Jouque managed to come up with a valid excuse. "Hey, guys, there it is." Tom, one of the more quiet ones, piped in, pointing at the, now in-view, Wal-mart. Jouque let out a sigh of relief, "good, no more interrogation from Steve…I really should be more careful" he though to himself, as the group ran towards the Wal-mart.
There were no cameras located outside the Wal-mart, only internally, but that did mean they had to be careful when swiping the spray-paint. Really, they could always just steal the spray-paint somewhere else, where there were no cameras, but they thought it funnier if they spray painted the store with their own paint. With that, Tom and Steve walked up to the loading dock, behind the Wal-mart, as it was usually much easier to steal things from there. The rest of the group remained nearby, to keep watch. After waiting only 10 or so minutes, they returned with a box. "You sure that’s paint in there?" Jouque inquired, a hint of sarcasm seasoned his voice, " 'cause if I recall, last time you went to steal the paint, we ended up with a box of Lysol." Steve gave Jouque a quick glare, and tore open the lid of the box, revealing 24 full cans of spray-paint, in various colors. Jouque smirked, grabbed two cans, and proceeded over to a section of wall that seemed brighter than the rest, having been obviously repainted recently. He began to create his signature, a masterpiece he had recreated in 23 other venues. It was a work of art, one of which he was very proud of. It wasn't the usual bubble-letter name, or letters made of arrows, but rather a picture done in red and black, that looked like either his name, or a silhouette of two people making love, "doggy-style", depending on how you looked at it. He had almost finished the man's feet and calves when he heard sirens. "F***!" Steve exclaimed. Looking over his shoulder, Jouque could see what had caused Steve to shout this, as two patrol cars pulled into the parking lot behind them, sirens ablaze. "Run!" Jouque exclaimed to his friends, most of who had already began to bolt, in various directions. Steve quickly ran around a corner, and jumped into a dumpster, in an attempt to hide. Jouque did his best at running, but could not due to his various chains and straps. In seconds a police officer was on top of him, and he could feel metal handcuffs being slipped around his wrists. In the distance he could hear the sound of Steve being pulled out of the dumpster, screaming profanities at the officer. "Well, at least I wasn't the only one caught;" Jouque began to think to himself again, "What kind of an idiot hides in a dumpster? He could have just ran and made it…these stupid pigs couldn't catch him, what with all the donut stuffing they've probably been doing." The police officer pulled Jouque to his feet, and guided him into the back-seat of the patrol vehicle, a second cop doing likewise with his, now trash-covered, friend. "Did everyone else get away?" Steve asked as he was pushed into the seat adjacent to Jouque, "ya…" he replied, as the police officers climbed into the car themselves.
They didn't talk much, after that. The drive down to juvy took forever, despite how close it was. "Man, I wonder what my parents are gonna do this time…" Jouque wondered, "I mean, they usually let me off pretty easy, but this is the third time this quarter…if I wasn't so pathetic, I wouldn't be here right now. I'm so stupid…I mean, the only other person who was caught, got caught 'cause he was a total moron, which means I must be a moron to have gotten caught too…" He began to get a sinking feeling in his chest. This is the way he felt most of the time nowadays…depressed, lonely, stupid, alone, and afraid. "I don't know what I should do anymore…Can I help the fact that I was born a loser? It's my parent's fault! They made me this way! I mean, look at Jill, she turned out pretty good! Why couldn't my dad have just grown a pair, and disciplined me every now and then…I mean, it's too late now, obviously, I'm already a total failure...maybe ill just not go to high-school next year. I already know I'm going to get straight D's like I do now. Actually, people have been saying high-school is harder…I doubt I'll even be able to get D's anymore! …but what would I do with myself? I'm never going to amount to anything…" He realized he had been staring at the same point in front of him for the past while, and shook himself out of it. "Hey, Steve…" Jouque had a hint of sadness in his voice. "Ya?" the boy in the chair next to him replied. "Ever wanted to just…end it all?" Steve looked down at the ground. "Ya," Steve seemed somehow distant, "Once…when I was 12. It was right after the first time I ever went to juvy. My parents had just yelled at me for almost an hour straight, and then I was sent to my room. I took one of my belts, and tied it around the bar in my closet, then put it around my neck. I was going to hang myself, but then my sister walked in…I told her I was playing a game and that if she told mom and dad, that I'd kill her…but I never tried again after that…why?" "No reason." Jouque replied, returning to thinking to himself.
The patrol car pulled into a parking space, and stopped. The police officers got out, and opened the back doors, pulling Jouque and Steve out. Jouque's parents had already been informed, and were waiting there when they went inside, apparently Steve's parents had also been informed, but they weren't going to come down and pick him up till later. The entire car ride home, his parents chewed him out, but it really wasn't that bad. Jouque was totally numb to this sort of punishment, and simply ignored them. When they got home, Jouque proceeded to his room, slammed his door shut and opened his desk drawer, where he kept his exacto-knife. He put a new blade in it, and then pushed the new blade into his wrist. He was crying. He hated himself. He hated his life. He just wanted everything to go away, and with that, he dragged the blade through his flesh, pulling the tiny cleaver diagonally down, across his veins and arteries in his wrist. He pressed as hard as he could, allowing his warm blood to flow down his arm and onto the carpet. It felt terribly painful, but was quickly becoming better. He pulled the knife out of his arm, and pushed it into his other wrist, doing his best to do the same to it as well. It was much harder, this time, as he had lost most of the strength in his other hand already, but managed to make a pretty good sized cut in the second wrist. By the time he had finished he was shaking violently. He fell to the floor, sobbing violently, but quietly. He could feel the life drain out of him. This was it, the way out; there was no way to go back now. Within moments, he breathed his last breathe.
His parents found him on the floor of his room the next morning. The carpet stained with his blood. They called an ambulance, but he had been long dead, and there was nothing that could be done at this point. The funeral was the following week. His parents were devastated. Most of his friends were there too. It was a closed coffin, by his parents' request, as they could not bear to see him that way. Strange thing, none of his friends cried. They were, after all, middle-schoolers, and such a thing as death was really an inconceivable thing to them. And after that day, not a single one of them even put a thought to him. In the end, none of them really cared about him; they had other 'friends,' just like Jouque.