If you climb the wall next to the gate no one can see you unless they are in the tunnel. At one end is the back gate, the other end goes to the ampitheatre. Some big trees along the fence cover everything and make a kind of tunnel. On one side is a wall, on the other a fence. It pays to have dangerous friends at school. Doesn’t mean much in the grand scheme of things, but it makes me tight with Ronnie and Mike. Yesterdays story wrapped around a joints worth of pot. I give Glen the story I wrote during math, he gives me a crumpled wad of paper. Tales of drugged out dwarves and Wizards, battling evil and getting rich. I hang with Glen because he likes to read my stories. I don’t want to be a burglar or a car thief. Someday they will rule the neighborhood (except what’s already controlled by 18th Street and Echo Park). Glen will steal your money, your dope, your bike, your records, your parents car, anything.
I think Mike taught Glen how to steal cars. Everything’s fun until he all of a sudden decides to fight you for the stick. Hanging with Mike is like playing fetch with a strange vicious dog. I want to like him, but he can get really mad about some little thing and pound the holy shit out of you. Mike knows how to get into better trouble then the others dream of. Maybe hates me, maybe thinks I’m his best friend. These guys are older because they all flunked out a couple times. Sometimes at lunch I hang out at the fruit machine with Glen, Tracey, Ronnie and Mike. I hang with them until the nine o’clock bell. Dana, Sue, Mary, Josh, Richard, Niko, Tara, Karl and Raymond sit on the grass in the ampitheatre. On campus I hit everyone for spare change, make a buck ten. One of the Metros looks over at The Wall and we fade. Metros get out of their car.īirds stop singing. An egg bursts across the hood of the cruiser. Glen, Tracey and anyone else holding split The Wall and make for the back gate. Metro pigs strike fear in the hearts of good children as they hurry to school. Unmarked brown police cruiser appears in a puff of mist. Cholos on the roof of an apartment building explode like a pack of mad apes.
A rain of eggs explode in the street around Johnny as he runs for the back gate. stands someplace obvious and acts like he’s writing down names. I mean, every so often a teacher comes across the street and makes a scene, or the V.P. Ciggs are okay though, nobody really gives a shit. Not safe to smoke pot this close to school, always cops. Goodbye Johnny, good luck man, hope you find sanctuary. Always someone kicking his ass or pushing him around. He doesn’t feel safe close to the school. He never does.Īfter The Stairs, we go to The Wall. I keep hoping he’ll introduce me to his older friends. We don’t talk much, Johnny’s got a lot of problems at home with his dad, he can’t talk about anything without seeming like he’s about to cry. Johnny’s always got weed, so we go to The Stairs and get wasted before school. The only thirteen year old I know who can truly make that claim. He’s definitely weirder than most, but he’s actually fucked a girl. Everyone thinks he’s queer ‘cause of the patchouli and the flowered shirts and beads and incense and shit like that. Waiting at the bottom of the hill for Johnny.
Hate that place, like the dog though, the dog’s cool. I’ll take my chances, raid moms purse, take as much as I can, fifty cents, maybe a couple of bucks if lucky. Never changed, couldn’t eat at home anymore, rather roam the streets hungry. Eggs in the morning, peanut butter and grape jelly for lunch, spaghetti and a can of plain tomato sauce or a can of tuna for dinner.