Chapter 5: American Dream

  “Then it’s settled,” I said. “We have to pack, then. Like, now.”
  “You seriously have guns?” Eric asked. How foolish of him to doubt the fact that I didn’t have some kind of a weapon on me at all times.
  I laughed, “Yeah. Got a fair price for it, too. When John –your dorm leader- was on Fight Club duty, I slipped him a fifty and got a Glock out of it.”
  Ex, who was a gun expert, said, “Eh. Glocks aren’t that great, Si. Sure, they’re one of the few antiques that’s still of any use, but there are a lot better guns out there.”
  “Fifty for an antique is pretty good, if you ask me,” Smirt sniggered, “I went down to the pawn shop and paid seven-hundred for an old Wii. The jack-ass who sold it to my gyped me. Didn’t give me the fricking Wii-mote.  ”
  Ex coughed into his hand, “Rip-off!”  Smirt nodded in agreement.
  I stood up from the bean bag chair, laughing at my friends and their stupid conversation, “Well, I’m going to go pack and get things ready. I’ll be back here in an hour or so.”
  They all nodded, digging through their dresser drawers and throwing clothes into backpacks.
  I slipped out the door, down the hallway and back into my dorm.
  My Spartan room greeted me with its whitewashed walls and small, single window, framed by black curtains. The bed still wasn’t made and the alarm clock was still playing my “YOU NEED TO WAKE UP” playlist. I switched it off, the silence filling my ears and making the room feel even emptier.
  Despite all the bad things that had happened here, I felt a sort of emptiness fill me as I began to pack. I met my best friend here in the Dorms. We planned our first protest here in my room. Our whispered ideas echoed in my head, making my heart ache.
  What if this was the last time I was here? What if I never came back to the city at all? Whether for a good or bad reason, I didn’t care, but what would befall us on this journey?
  What were we getting ourselves into? It was a long shot. A really long shot. To get off the grounds unseen, praying that Eric’s weird Parrot-majig would work, get to the subway station safely, and walk the many miles to Death Valley.
  And only God knew what was down there! Yes, hobos, mostly…
  But what about the animals? Weird creepy-crawlies that burrowed into your skull and ate your brains? Rats and mice and bats that clung to your skin and sucked your blood until you were dry? Diseases! Mutant STD’s that clung to the tunnel walls just waiting for a human to cling to; bacteria lurking silent but deadly, ready to strike at any moment…
  I shook the thought out of my head, not wanting to worry myself any further.
  I threw several pairs of pants, a few tank tops, two t-shirts, and my leather jacket into the backpack. I threw off the Converse I was wearing and replaced them with my boots. They were the only shoes I would need. I would sleep in my current clothes in the guys’ room tonight and be ready to leave as soon as that alarm rang.  
  I put some extra ammo in the cargo pockets on the side of my backpack, and strapped my beloved Huvver to it. The skateboard was something I rarely used, but you never knew if your legs would crap out on you, now, did you? A pair of sunglasses, an exquisitely carved knife, and a hat followed.
  Done.
  I made the bed and tucked everything of value into the safe I had put under the floorboards. I drew the curtains and took one last look at the sparsely furnished room.
  Because there were so few female miscreants, I was the only one residing in 24-6G. There were three other beds without covers on them, their pillows fluffed and inviting.
  I sighed, pulled the knife out of the pack, and turned to the largest wall, opposite the window.
  I scratched and scratched until my hand was sore from scratching. The letters were as tall as the wall, and were at least a foot or two wide. I stepped back to admire my somewhat unorthodox handiwork and started to laugh for no reason. Just because.
  SPREAD THE STATIC decorated the wall now, etched crudely in the thick plaster wall.
  “Perfect,” I whispered.
  Every corner of the room was screaming at me not to leave, pleading for me to stay. Crying, please, please, please, Silence! Or, at least that was what I wanted to think. That at least one thing –an inanimate object of all things!- wanted me to stay here.
  And be miserable for the rest of my life.  Be treated like trash. Tossed aside, because I didn’t matter, as Eric had said.
  I was about to walk out the door, when the voices subsided. I had to add one thing to the ‘mural’.
  I pulled out the knife again, dropping the bag to the ground.
  YOU CAN’T STOP US I carved into the wall above my bed.
  And they couldn’t. No matter how they tried.
  Eric’s words echoed in my head…
  We’ll fight for our rights or die trying.

-+-
Before I went back to the guys’ room, I had to make one last stop. With my hand in my pocket, clutching the keys to my Lucille, a tear rolled slowly down my cheek.
  Walking solemnly to the parking garage, I started humming a B.B. King song. It was the farewell song for my beautiful baby. I would rather she lie at the bottom of the canal next to the Dorms, than in the hands of any of the pricks here.
  I hopped onto the stunning piece of machinery that had gotten me everywhere and drove the little ways to the canal.  I picked the lock to the gate with unsteady hands and wheeled my baby in after me.
  The canal loomed below us like a black abyss. I felt a pulling in my gut, telling me not to do this…
  But I had to. I wouldn’t be able to go on this journey knowing that my baby could be in the hands of the people I was trying to fight.
  So I let her go. I turned around just in time to hear a dreadful crunch and the quick flash of a fire. This time, I let the tears come. This machine and I had been through a lot together.
  The first and only time I fell off of it was how I met Ex. He was on community service picking up trash on the side of the road.
  The first day I met Smirt I had been buying a helmet at the store where he just happened to be working. I had seen him in the dorms, but had never talked to him. We had great fun thinking up names for my helmet; we finally decided on Gordon, for some reason.
  My first kiss happened on that bike. Even though I had completely forgotten the name of the guy who had given me that kiss, it was also what helped me get away from him when he wanted to take it too far…I just drove off.
  It was my first means of transportation that didn’t make me have to depend on somebody else. It symbolized my freedom. Or at least the illusion of my freedom.
  It was like giving away a security blanket when you had gotten too old for it. It was like giving away a child. Eventually, the feeling in my gut subsided, but the turmoil that was brewing in that crapped-up head of mine kept on going.
  I started to head back to the dorms, tears streaming endlessly down my tanned face.
   Once inside again, I stalked stealthily down the hall back to the Boy’s Dorm, bag slung over my shoulder loosely. I tried to avoid the glances of people I passed by, even the people I knew. They knew I was weird, but walking down the guy’s dorm hallway, a bulky backpack over my shoulder with my sleek black Huvver strapped to it?
  Eh. Not as weird as some of the stuff that went on down here in Level Five.
  I pushed open the Musketeer’s door and all three of them were shoved on the bean bag, playing a video game together, screaming and swearing and laughing. I plopped on the bed, watching them play for what could very possibly be the last time.
  Obviously, they understood that this wasn’t going to be a definite thing. They knew there was a very good possibility of our not coming back at all.
  “Oh, come on, Eric! You are such a cheater!” Smirt whined.
  Eric snorted, “Says the loser!”
  I took out my knife and decided to go to work on their wall. They didn’t pay any mind to my vandalism; they were too absorbed in their intense game.
  I did the same thing I had done in my room, smiling as I did so.
  Eric was the first to look up at what I was doing, and he smiled too. His character was instantly obliterated by Smirt, which caused the nerdy oriental boy to scream in Korean. Ex proceeded to kill Smirt’s character and start doing a victory dance in the middle of the room, holding up his hands and singing We Are the Champions by Queen.
  Eric stood up to see what I was doing and took the knife from me.
  “Hey, buddy. Don’t take away a girl’s knife. You should know better.”
  He shook his head at me, “I’m just doing something…” He started to carve.
    Smirt was still sitting before the TV, his hand covering his face in shame, silently cursing Ex and Eric.
  “Done,” Eric muttered, after another minute or two, handing me back my precious blade. There, in his spindly and spidery handwriting was…
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.
  I started to grin from ear to ear, and I found myself embracing him tightly, “Nice touch.” He seemed taken aback by the sudden hug, but I guess he got used to it, because he didn’t swat me away.
  All he said was, “Please get off me.”
  Ex yawned, suggesting, “I think we should get some shut-eye. What time are we getting up tomorrow?”
  I looked at my watch, “It’s about six-thirty now…we’re going to get up at four.” I yawned and stretched cat-like in the sunlight that came filtering through the open window. The cool mid-February air spilled into the room, cooling me down.
  I fell to the floor and snatched a pillow from Smirt’s bed, my eyes closing almost automatically.

                                                                            -+-

I HATE ALARM CLOCKS.
  The blaring in your ear that doesn’t stop until you drag your sorry carcass out of bed and push the snooze button.
  I was the first to pull up my head. I stumbled upwards and toward the nightstand, grabbed the nearest blunt object and bashed the alarm clock to death.
  I heard clapping coming from the three guys, now awake, due to my loud –and funny- performance. I bowed awkwardly, and dropped the blunt object to the floor, the thing landing with a thud.
  I ran a comb through my ratty black hair, pulled it back into a pony tail, and I was done.
  “All right, gang. Let’s go. Up and at ‘em, or I start spankin’ some butts. Let’s go!”  
  Smirt chortled, “Go ahead and spank me. I’m taking my sweet time, baby.”
  I kicked him in the shoulder, “GET UP!”
  He cried out in pain, “Okay, okay! Damn, girl.”
  Ex rolled lazily out of his bed, pulling on his shoes. Eric was already pulling on his backpack, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.
  Three more minutes and we were ready.
  “We all good?” Eric asked, pulling on a baseball cap. The three of us nodded in reply and I led the way out the door and into the hallway.
  “No use in locking the door,” I said, pushing them out hurriedly. “We want them to know we’re gone sooner or later. When we don’t show up for kitchen duty after not having gone to school yesterday, they’ll start to wonder.”
  We tiptoed down the hallway quickly, being wary of all the sounds we heard around us.
  After five silent minutes, were off the grounds, facing the direction of the old abandoned subway station. No problems. So far.
  “Rock and roll, bitches!” I cheered, pumping my fist in the air and waving it above my head.
  We all walked in a straight line down the street, glancing around nervously.
  Smirt was the first to ask, “Si, what took you so long last night? Couldn’t decide what clothes to bring?”
  I was silent for a moment, sighed, and answered him, choking back tears, “Drove Lucille into the canal next to the Dorms.”
  “What?!” they all shouted as one.
  “I didn’t want her falling into the wrong hands…she was…my most prized possession. She was my baby.”
  Ex hooked an arm around my waist inelegantly, his sleepy smile trying to coax me into feeling better, “Well, you’ve still got us, Si!”
  Eric grunted sardonically, “As if that would make you feel better.”
  It slipped out unexpectedly.
  “You guys are all I need.”
  So unexpected was this comment, they all stopped to stare at me a moment.
  I shrugged defensively, “It’s true. You guys are my best friends. Lucille was a thing. A valuable thing…but…I don’t know.”
  “We get it!” Eric interrupted. “We better get a move-on before the sun comes up.”
  We continued on in silence, Ex’s arm still lopped around me, and Smirt’s arm linked with mine.
  I started to laugh at Eric walking all by himself.
  I nudged Smirt with my waist, “Hey, Smirt…”
  “Yeah?”
  “Go give Eric a BIG hug for me.”
  “Hell no,” Eric objected.
  I simply stared at him, “Suit yourself. But when you’re old and in the Home complaining about how no one ever loved you when you were young and pretty, don’t come crying to me.”
  “Not like either of us is going to get the chance to be old and in the Home,” he replied.
  As we got closer to the boarded-up entrance to the station, I stopped, my hands on my hips, “Okay, Mister Bitchy-Britches. Who’s the whole reason we’re out here right now? Huh?” I walked up to him and pinched his face, turning his pale skin a light rosy pink.
  “Me?...”
  “Damn right, buster,” I said, slapping him playfully on the shoulder, “Now shut your blowhole.”
  Ex and Smirt giggled like gossiping schoolgirls, and they received a slap on the shoulder as well, silencing them instantly.
  I turned back to the subway entrance, ran to it, and kicked it down with a loud and obnoxious HAI-YAH!
  Eric pulled out a flashlight and we all followed suit.
  I went in first, letting the darkness envelop me and hide my fear. Ex and Eric followed boldly but it took Smirt a second to gather up enough courage to even start descending the stairs.
  “Guys, wait for me!” he yelped. I searched the wall for a switch. There it was to my right, dusty and covered in thick cobwebs. I flipped it on, wiping the dust and webs on Smirt’s shoulder just to freak him out.
  The lights flickered and sparked to life, scaring Smirt half to death and making him cling helplessly to my arm.
  “Holy fricking crap.”