Instinctive Calling:

8th Grade Tale

This was probably the most remembered event in my life. I can still see it. A bright glorious light falls upon a picture as though heaven's finger from some great beyond is signaling me to look upon it. The faces on the picture glare in reputation. These were some of my friends. Some I still see and some I am afraid I will never see again, but in this one point in time we were bond tighter than tight. Like the knot of a noose we were tide to the same fate. From this fate a new reputation far harsher than before carried me through the rest of middle and still follows me through high school.

From my ears whispered their names Kurt Sexton, his twin brother Kris Sexton, their taller but younger brother Karl Sexton, Matt Wetzel, the only girl Kim Johnson, and of course Me. We were literally punk pre-teens. And in our world of middle school there were four kinds of people. The “Preps” who we stereotyped as the rich snobby, perfectly blond fucks everyone wanted to be like, and people wanting to be like you, made you “un-cool" to our group. Then there were the "thugs", enough said about them. We made up the minority of the population, at the time, middle and elementary school druggies. We had been friends forever and at the time we believed it would stay that way. The other kind of people, which to us weren’t people at all, were the monsters that crept the hallways of every school, surfed the streets in blue and red lit cars, and lived with us in each and every home. They were our enemies because they denied us our right to be grown up. But in all reality they raised us to be what we are. We inherited their sins and made some of our own. They were every adult with a child, and then some.

Some how in our ignorance or our disability to make ordinary, logical, and half righteous decisions brought us to the "perfect" idea. We planned to somehow carry a shit load of alcohol, the kind you consume for drunkenness, in book bags one Friday afternoon to the local shopping center, the town "mall", and get drunk on its roof that night. Of course it wasn't anywhere close to a well thought out plan, much less a good idea. But it was perfect in our eyes. When an idea like that drips upon a brain of that age, it forces you to execute that idea to the fullest. Like sticking a fork in a wall socket at age one or setting your floor on fire at ages five to six. This plan was totally perfect.

So after school we walked as a group of three, Kim, Wayne, and of course me. Wayne Hicks was a strange kid who I would like to talk about, but his tale is for another time. Wayne went home and Kim and I waited for the other four, who appeared in an unfamiliar car, with one of those adults who never could just grow up, at the wheel. From the car door came their faces with full book bags, and extra bags full of secret goodies. We waved at the driver and headed off to the back of the stores, to place the bags on the roof. Without any mention we all knew that the car driver had been this day's hook up for boos, and probably introduced Matt to her drug dealer for a small bag of pot. We climbed up the white painted ladder located in the back. With every step up new shards of dried dirty wet paint stuck to our palms and fingers. At the very top we found ourselves in a wonderland of gravel flooring and strange electronic fans. It reminded me of a graveyard. With another great idea we let Kris place the party materials.

“I am going to steal some chips and other shit for when we have the munchies. Anybody want anything special?” Kurt said with a smile incrusted over his pale skinny face.

“Just try to not get caught” Karl said looking down on his brother. We all knew it wasn’t a good idea to let Kurt go around taking everything in sight with his five finger discount, but we were too busy planning the night of our lives. And he did this thing on a regular basis, so what could go wrong.

Matt and I decided to go and look for Kurt, since he had been gone for such a long time, leaving the others to their planning. Our feet hit the coarse pavement with a rhythm. My black leather jacket hung unfittingly off my left shoulder. Matt lit up a cigarette pulling it away from his face to play with his lip ring. In the distance, even though the sun was beating over head, we could still see a horde of blue and red lights. Matt turned to me in disbelief, knowing this had to do with Kurt. Kurt was sitting on the concrete curb in front of Win Dixie looking down, while a police man with a pen and clip board towered over him. The Sexton signaled with his boney fingers, telling us to save ourselves. He was always taking complete blame, knowing in the end he would be blamed anyway.

Our hair waved in the wind as we ran back to the ladder, making sure it was all clear before climbing up. We looked into the eyes of the three bleak confused faces. I took out a cigarette to help catch my breath, while I let Matt explain what we were witnesses of to the now paranoid teenagers.

“Damn it! Kurt just got arrested for shop lifting. Why the fuck did we let him go? What are you two going to do? Your mom is going to be looking for you, and if she calls the cops and reports you missing, they will come to my house.” Matt explained, questioned, and informed the Sextons. Even though the mention of their mother brought parole to their face, I already knew their complete answer.

“I am not worried about it.” Karl said and Kris nodded agreeing with his younger brother. I watched as the sun fell from the sky into the blackness of a land dimming into darkness. The trees shrouded the sun like damned hands pulling what little life there was left in the world, till it was all gone and only shadow remand as company. Matt pulled a piece of rolling paper from his pocket, while Karl broke up the weed. Karl blind from the night and only having his wallet to break upon, tore the sticky dried plant into small grains. He picked out with his pointer all the un-smoke-albs, which consisted of seeds and stems.

Karl passed his marijuana covered wallet to Matt, who placed his slab of rice paper flat in his hand. He slowly sprinkled the dark green herb onto the paper till it was completely full. Matt licked and rolled into one beautifully made white cigarette form. Taking his lighter and waving it over the joint to dry any spit. Karl broke up more weed and Matt again completed the process.

With a joint for every head we lit and smoked till true euphoria was gained. I can’t explain what it was like, because it was a long time ago. But if I were to guess, I would say it felt like Nirvana, a state of oneness with the universe. Walking so high I think I can fly. Stars above me like eyes. I am not alone for there are others walking beside me. They wander too. This was one of the last times I smoked with Kim, leading to much fewer meetings with her.

We sat in a circle, while Matt and Kris handed one forty for each pair of hands. I forgot what we were drinking. I just remember it got me drunk pretty quick. The liquid took control of my high and rebuilt it. It wasn’t the same, with every gulp came another, and another after that. I could not stop myself begging for another forty and taking a nice size swig off of it. The faces of my friends blurred in comparison to their former selves. We were all pretty drunk.

Karl spotted his mother’s car following a horde of cop cars driving around the shopping center. I guess that got the Sextons pretty nervous, even though alcohol had taken over their judgment. We all dropped to the ground in hiding positions. I was the last to put my face to the gravel, because I was a bit confused about what was going on. I do not know exactly what Matt said, through the hiccups and slurs, but I am pretty sure it sounded kind of like this.

“Let’s head to my house. It will be safe there.”

So we all went to the corner of the shopping center closest to the ground. Everyone jumped off without any sort of injury. I was the last doing a drunken stop drop and roll right off the bitch landing on my face. Everyone turned around from the sound of the impact’s thump, but went back to walking toward the woods behind the shopping center when they realized I was alright. Everyone stopped for a moment again letting everyone take a piss. I was urinating on a tall pine tree, which stood with other trees of its kind in a pathetic garden behind the shopping center. Out of nowhere blinding lights surrounded us. An armada of blue and red blazed in a midnight glory. I found myself alone watching three of the police officers run into the forest after my less drunk friends, while one came toward me.

“Are you hiding or something?” The officer asked.

“No sir, I am taking myself a piss at this here tree.” I answered half ass hoping to piss him off. For some reason I thought he didn’t have the right to interrupt me while I am taking a piss. I zipped up my pants and put my hands in front of me so the police officer wouldn’t have to struggle trying to slap the cuffs around my wrists. I followed in front of him watching all my friends walk out of the woods in the same fashion, handcuffed and caught. Only Matt did not pop up.

We all blew through the breathalyzer. Everyone except for me had around a .06, which was amazing for the amount of alcohol they had consumed. I on the other hand blew a .1 which is a bit over legally drunk. Tarry, or the Sexton mom, appeared out of nowhere and slapped Karl in the face. She even turned her head to yell at me a little bit.

I do not remember much after that except all of us appearing in the police station handcuffed and my parents standing over me. Matt got there somehow with his mother beside him. All our parents were there like deities punishing their separate followers of their created faith. I remember my parents saying how a parent’s child reflects their image. This is funny because all of our parents were fighting blaming each other’s kids. On the way out my Father punched me in the back of the head. I think to myself, we are nothing like your reflection. We all came out here and helped each other get into trouble and yet we are still friends. Even though we did shed some blame on each other, we realize that no one can take the full blame and eventually we spill the blame on ourselves, because we share it. There is no kid better then another.