OLD FRIENDS

Sometimes life makes you think. Sometimes it makes you stop and look around. It makes you wonder, and it makes you yearn to understand, to just understand. How many times have you asked yourself 'why?' 'Why did this have to happen now?' 'Why did this have to happen to me?' 'Why did this have to happen to her?' Or, 'Why did this have to happen to him?'

As I walked down the small dirt road, I asked myself those questions and ones just like them, over and over again. I wanted to know why he had to die. He was so much better than everybody else, so much cooler and so much smarter. But even as I threw the questions at God, and at myself, and at the trees and sky, I knew the answers to some of them. I'd always known that if J.D. was ever going to die, it would have been by his own hand.

Before J.D. came to my school, people thought of me as a loner. They never laughed at me. I was never the focus of anyones jokes or snide remarks. People pretty much just left me alone. I just sat back and watched as the 'cool' people of the school made life hell for everyone a little less 'cool' than they were. I never thought that I could do anything about it. It wasn't my place to try. I was neither cool nor geeky. I wasn't thrown into any real stereotype, like everyone else seemed to be. I wasn't on the football team or the basketball team, so I wasn't a jock. Although I did play football in my freshman year, I quit when it stopped being fun. People started to take it too seriously. And I wasn't in the glee club, so I wasn't a geek or a nerd either. I wasn't really part of the school, I just sort of watched it from the outside. I didn't talk to anyone and they didn't talk to me, and when I dated, it was with girls from other schools. I would eat my lunch alone in the cafeteria or sometimes in the stairwell, reading a book or magazine. The school ignored me and I ignored it.

Then one lunchtime, I was sitting alone in the cafeteria. I sat in the far corner, hunched over a copy of 'The Catcher in the Rye,' trying to block out the noise of the jocks having their burping and farting contests, the sound of the nerds squealing as they got their daily dose of wedgys, and the screeching of the cheerleaders as they spelled out the school name. 'Give me an L!' they screamed, 'Give me an I!' It was then that I realised how much I hated those people. It made me want to run home and get my fathers gun and just shoot some of those assholes right between the eyes. Anything to make the cheerleaders understand that we already knew how to spell 'Lincoln High School.'

Then I noticed a shaddow cover the table and I looked up from my book, expecting to see a stupid jock who had mistaken me for a nerd just because I could read, and was now going to attempt to humiliate me in front of the whole school. I remember that I was feeling very pissed off, and the thought of having to fight someone was pretty enticing; I thought it would be a good way to vent some anger. Instead, I saw someone I had never seen before. I guessed he was new in school because I usually got this small corner table all to myself.

He spoke, 'Greetings and salutations.'

'Hey,' I said, and I returned to my book.

He tossed his lunch tray onto the table and sat down. 'Man, the food here sucks! I swear that shit in a sewer would smell better.'

I laughed a little and looked up from my book. I said, 'You're new here right?'

He nodded. 'Yeah, I'm the new guy. Let me introduce myself. Jason Dean, most people call me J.D.'

'I'm David. Most people don't know me, but those who do, call me David.' His name sounded familiar. 'Hey, Jason Dean as in "Big Bud Dean Construction"?'

'Yes, good old Dad, making a living outa blowing things up.'

I put my book down and took a swig of my water. 'That musta been kinda tough on a kid. All that moving around and stuff.'

'Yeah but I got by. He buys me stuff, trys to make up for it. But what the hell, I got a motorbike outa him.' He looked around the cafeteria, his gaze holding a little longer on the cheerleaders. 'But I tell you Dave, I've been to five other schools in five other states before coming to your glorious Lincoln High, and they're all the same.' He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. 'Six schools in six states and they only thing different is my locker combination.'

'It's the way school society works. Nothing we can do about it.'

J.D. looked around the room again. 'You can't move a damn inch without bumping into those Goddamn jocks and their farting conteste, or those fucking cheerleaders jumping all over the place.'

I laughed. 'I was thinking the same thing before you sat down.' I looked at Melissa Blankwood, the head cheerleader. She was undeniable beautiful, in a fashion magazine kinda of way. I could see J.D. looking at her. 'I dated her for a while back in junior high.'

He glanced back at me. 'Lucky you. You have her number?' He laughed softly.

'You wouldn't want it. She was great back then. A really nice person. We were into the same stuff, watched the same TV shows. I took her to all the school dances.'

He gave me his full attention now. 'So what happened?'

I sighed as I watched her leave the cafeteria. 'We came to high school. She got her braces removed and suddenly everyone began to notice her. She took up cheerleading. She became popular. I stayed the same, and she moved on. She changed. She said I had no ambition. I told her that being popular wasn't the fucking be all and end all, but she just told me I needed to grow up. She told me it was over, and I told her to go to hell. And that was that. The end.'

He took a packet of cigarettes out of his coat pocket. 'That's a beautiful story. She sounds like one fucked up girl.'

'She's a bitch J.D. The girl I loved is dead.'

'Dead, huh?' He put a cigarette in his mouth and lit it. He offered me one.

'You can't smoke in here. Mr Jackson's just over there.' I pointed in the general direction of the gym teacher. 'He'll stick your ass in detention for a week.'

He took a drag and laughed quietly. 'You don't smoke?'

'It's a filthy, disgusting habit. But yeah, I do smoke, just not usually in the middle of the cafeteria.'

'Hell, live fast, die young, leave a good-looking corpse, that's what I say.'

He offered me the pack again, and to my surprise, I took one. He tossed me his lighter. It was one of those fancy silver ones. It was engraved with a bald eagle, it's wings outstretched in mid-flight. Against my better judgement, I lit the cigarette. Then for the first time since my freshman year, people noticed me. They noticed me and the new guy smoking in the cafeteria with Mr Jackson rapidly approaching.

He stuck our asses in detention for a week, but J.D. and I soon became close friends.

*

I let my mind return to the present as I approached the cemetery gates. They stood open as if to invite Death inside. I tried to avoid morbid thoughts, but it was pretty hard to; standing outside a graveyard. It wasn't spooky or creepy, well not to me anyway, but I never feared Death, or ghosts, or any other of his mythical friends. And I doubted anywhere could have appeared creepy on such a bright and sunny day.

The fence around Sherwood Cemetery was reinforced with a five foot tall hedge. The large iron gates were roofed by two tall elm trees, which met in the middle to create a leafy arch. I brushed a few strands of hair off my face and sighed. How could he be dead? How could someone as alive as J.D. die? I entered the graveyard.

I didn't find out that J.D. was dead until about a week after the funeral. His dad had lost my phone number and had no way to contact me. He eventually found it.

The sun was very bright and it created mirrors out of some of the cleaner tombstones. 'Death's reflection,' I told myself.

I had walked into the cemetery by the southern entrance, and J.D.'s grave was way over the other side. I walked slowley. Every step was hard in its own little way. I didn't want to see his grave, because once I did, I would know for sure that he was dead. Until I actually looked at the inscription I could semi-pretend that he was still alive. I knew that I was kidding myself, so maybe you're thinking what's the point of kidding yourself, if you know that you're doing it? Well the truth is, I didn't know. But it gave me some comfort, and some blind, stupid hope.

As I walked, my mind slipped back to the first day I met J.D. We spent an hour after school in detention - the first of four more - and we said nothing to one another. Talking was not permited in detention. We had to listen to Mr Jackson do his lecture on why smoking is bad. He even showed us a twenty minute film on lung cancer. I can safely say that it didn't change mine or J.D.'s idea's about smoking. We knew it was bad for us, but we simply didn't care. Live fast. Die young. Leave a good-looking corpse.

After school I went home. It was a two mile walk and it had started to rain. By the time I got home I was soaked. My dad grounded me for a week, confiscated my cigarettes, and also gave me the lecture on lung cancer. Only Dad threw in how Mom had died from it. I could barely remember my mom. I was only four years old when she passed away, and any memory that I did have, was clouded at best. My mom was only 27 when she died. Dad never really talked about her anymore. I knew he still loved and missed her, but the topic had become too hard for him to talk about.

Later that night, around 11:30pm, my dad came into my room. He told me he loved me. It had been a long time since he had said that. It would have been a touching moment if it weren't for the smell of whiskey on his breath. He said goodnight, kissed my forehead, and left. A couple of minutes later I heard him crash into bed.

I wasn't sleepy like I usually was on a Monday night, so i pulled out my book and started to read. Then a few moments later I heard a thump. I wasn't curious as my dad often fell out of bed when he drank, which was most nights. But just as I returned to my book, I got the shock of my life as someone climbed in through my bedroom window. I reached into my desk draw and pulled out a long hunting knife, which I was about to use until I saw the intruder's face.

As he turned to face me, he said, 'Terrible etiquette, I know. I apologise.'

I was unnerved about someone just entering my house without knocking on the door or ringing the bell, but for some reason I didn't say anything like that. Instead I just returned the knife to my desk draw and mumbled, 'That's okay.'

J.D. grinned and pulled out a couple of cigarettes. He lit his own and gave the remaining one to me. I took his lighter and lit up my own. 'What, err,' I stammered a little, 'What are you doing here?'

He perched on the edge of my desk. 'I noticed you have a bike out back.'

'It's my fathers.'

He took a long drag. 'You up for a ride?'

I thought for a moment. I wasn't sure if taking my dad's motorbike without permission, was such a good idea. But I grabbed my leather jacket off the bed and said, 'Sure. Why the hell not?' That was the last time that I'd ever pause to think before doing something with J.D.

It was still raining heavily as I fired up the engine. By the time we left the driveway, my hair was already soaked and stuck to my forehead. Neither of us wore a crash helmet, and, for me, that was half the fun.

J.D. led the way down deserted streets, past darkened houses and through empty parking lots, ignoring all stop signs and red lights. We paid no attention to the speed limit at all, sometimes hitting over 90mph. I glanced behind me at the fantastic spray of water I left in my wake. My face was numb from the wind and rain but I was kept warm by the explosive adrenaline that churned its way through my veins, powered by my pounding heart.

Ahead of me, J.D. took a sharp right down towards Lincoln High School, my high school, and one after the other, we raced into the school grounds, passed the main building, past the science labs and onto the football field, ripping up mounds of turf as we flew over it, then I circled J.D as he performed a 'doughnut' on the fifty yard line.

Then it was my turn to take the lead. I led us back out of the school and onto the street, again breaking all the laws of the road. We raced down Maple Avenue at 80mph, the wind rushing through my hair, and the rain crashing into my cheeks. J.D. was directly behind me, maybe only two yards off my rear wheel. I only half knew what I ws doing, but just up ahead was the rail crossing, it's safty barriers were broken and it couldn't be lowered, but its lights were flashing to warn motorists to stop. We didn't stop. I knew J.D. could se it just as easily as i could, and he didn't slow down and niether did I. Infact we increased our speed to 90mph, as, now only twenty yards away, a behemoth of a freight train rumbled through the night, its driver totally unaware of what was about to happen. Before I knew it, I'd hit a small incline in the road and I was flying three feet off the ground, and passing directly through the path of the gigantic train. As I landed on the other side, the train let out a deafening honk on its whistle. J.D. cut it even finer than I did, just making it to the other side in time. We skidded to a halt and turned to see the freighter cruise by. We sat in silence on our bikes for about two minutes, and i remember counting all the trucks it was pulling. It was something like fifty, maybe a little less, maybe a little more. It didn't really matter. It was just something to do while waiting for my heart to slow down and relax.

*

I went to wipe the rain drops off my face, but they weren't there. Then I realised that I wasn't sitting on my fathers bike anymore. I was back in Sherwood Cemetery. My memories had been that vivid that I'd forgotten where I was. J.D.'s death seemed to hit me all over again. Then I noticed that I was sitting on a bench, and the cold rain that I had imagined, was quickly replaced by real heat from the sun. I ran my fingers through my hair and let out a deep sigh. I had no idea how long I'd been sitting down, as I couldn't even remember sitting down in the first place.

I stood up and carried on towards J.D.'s grave.

I missed my friend. It was bad enough that he once had to move hundreds of miles to Ohio of all places, but now he'd gone and died too. When he left, we talked on the phone, but our friendship was never based on talking, it was based on experiencing things together, doing things that we couldn't do with other people.

Saturday night was always date night for one or both of us, so we rarely saw each other then, but Friday nights were often more interesting, as J.D. and I would just cruise around town on our bikes. Sometimes we would try to find easy girls and to get them drunk. Every now and then we succeeded. The girls were usually a little older than we were. We preferred college girls who had just fallen out with their boyfriends. They always seemed out to prove a point. Thoses girls used us almost as much as we used them. Almost.

One Friday night, we were sitting on our bikes outside a local bar. We'd had a couple of beers to celebrate my birthday, when J.D. reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out a gun. I knew that he wasn't going to shoot me, so i had no fear; only interest, in to why her was carrying this big, black revolver around with him. He didn't say anything at first, but he knew I had questions for him.

He turned the gun around in his hand so that the handle was facing me. 'Happy birthday,' he said, and passed the gun over to me.

Several seconds went by as I let my hands get used to this new toy. I'd held a real gun before. My dad owned a shotgun, and a few years ago he had taken me out hunting with him and I had shot a deer. My dad was a bit of an expert with guns as he served ten years in the army. He quit soon after my mother died, so he could take care of me.

'It's nice,' I said.

'Yeah, I got one just like it.' He reached inside his coat again and drew out another gun, which looked identical to the one he'd just given to me. 'Snap,' he breathed.

'Are we gonna hold up a convenience store?' I asked, as I lit up a cigarette.

I offered the pack to J.D. He took one and lit it before answering. Putting his gun back in his pocket, he simply said, 'No.' Then he started up his bike and tossed the cigarette aside. 'Come on, lets get a Turbo Dog. What do you say?'

He noticed a little concern cross my face as I saw for the first time that my gun was loaded and I presumed his was too. As if he could read my mind, he nodded and said, 'Our friendship is God. Let's get a Slushie.'

With that, we rode off towards the Snappy Snack Shack, where we feasted on Corn-Nuts and Turbo Dogs, and I grew to accept a loaded gun as part of my wardrobe.

*

The sun was slowly making its way westwards across the reddening Ohio sky. The wind picked up, and dusk seemed to have appeared as if from nowhere. As the sun began its decent, it took most of the graveyard's light with it. A few lamps were scattered here and there, and the timers activated them, but their glow barely touched me.

I had reached J.D.'s grave. It was still reasonable new, but the earth had not been dug up for him. He had blown himself up, on the front steps of Westerburg High School, and like everything J.D. did, he did it well. There was nothing left of him to bury. He had no stone to represent his life. Only a small brass plaque, fixed to a narrow piece of marble, laid claim to his place in the cemetery.

I still carried the gun that he had given to me. I unzipped my leather jacket a little and withdrew it from my inside pocket. I held it up in front of me, looking at it again. My eyes followed the barrel of the gun, until they dropped down on to the ground, and looked again at the plaque. It didn't say much. It just gave his name, Jason Dean, accompanied by his date of birth and the date of his death.

'That's all they gave you,' I mumbled. It was a half question.

I sat down infront of the plaque, placing the gun on the ground by my side.

'I missed your funeral.' A single tear blurred the vision in my right eye. 'I'm sorry. If I'd known...' I let the sentence trail off. 'Your dad didn't say how many people showed. I guess it couldn't have been many, with you being new and all. Did your girlfriend go? You told me about her on the phone. Veronica. I think you said her name was Veronica.' I didn't know what else to say. I didn't even know why I was talking at all. J.D. was dead and he couldn't hear me, and even if a dead person could hear you talk to their grave, J.D. wasn't here; his body was scattered all across Westerburg High. But here I had a focal point to talk to; a place to direct my voice. I couldn't do that at a main entrance to a high school.

I closed my eyes...

I rapped three times on J.D.'s bedroom door. He answered it and as I stepped in, he closed the door quickly behind me.

'I came straight over,' I said. 'What is it you want to show me?'

'Ah-ha, you're eager, I like that.'

I gave hiim a look that said, 'just show me asshole,' and he laughed a little before going over to his desk. On the desk was an odd shaped item, covered by a white cloth.

He removed the sheet, 'This,' he said, gesturing to what appeared to be a bomb. He smirked. 'What do ya think, Tiger?'

I studied his face and the bomb for about a second, before responding with, 'Well colour me impressed, Jessie James made a bomb.' I smiled at him.

We each lit up a cigarette and he flipped on the TV. It was Sunday night and the Chiefs were leading the Colts by ten. J.D. tossed me a bottle of beer and we watched the football game until halftime, when J.D. started to talk.

He stood up. 'I, err, I was sick of my dad taking so much pleasure in blowing shit up. So I figured that if he could make a bomb, then I sure as hell could too. It was pretty simple actually. No wonder he's good at it.'

'So you gonna blow up your dad, or what?'

He laughed and blew some smoke out his nose. 'No, that, well that wouldn't be ethical, now would it? No, the bomb's not armed, it has no explosives attached to it. Think of it as a homework assignment, but with a little more zest!'

'Well you passed,' I said. 'Now are you gonna just stand there, or are you gonna show me how to build one of those fuckers?'

A few weeks passed. One Friday lunchtime, we were sitting in the cafeteria drinking Diet Coke and eating Cheeseballs. We watched as Melissa Blankwood, the female leader of our great high school, and my ex-girlfriend, entered with her usual entourage, which included her recently acquired boyfriend, Chuck Simmons; captain and quarterback of the football team, and all-round asshole. The two star-crossed lovers and their friends, made their way over to the 'cool tables,' stopping along the way to torment a freshman boy. He was kind of geeky looking so they teased him, and Chuck used his superior athletic skills to push him up against a wall and practice a chokehold on him. They all laughed at this poor kid, then moved on to their table.

J.D. and I both saw that pathetic display of manhood by Chuck. J.D. raised his eyebrows and sighed. 'It makes you think, doesn't it?'

'Yeah,' I agreed. 'It makes me wanna do something, you know? I'm sick of watching Chuck and people like him beat up on the younger kids. I'd go over there and kick his ass, only I think I'd probably lose.'

'I see your point. The 45 lbs and five inches he has on you, could be a factor.'

'I'm sick of her too. Melissa. We were great friends and she sold me out for a bunch of assholes and her cheerleading captaincy.'

J.D. sighed again. 'Melissa Blankwood has been running this school for long enough. Maybe it's time she took a vacation.'

'I wish I could just wipe the slate clean. Shit,' I said. I rubbed my eyes with the palms of my hands. 'I didn't get much sleep last night. My dad was really worked up about something. No idea what, though. He was too shit-faced to be coherent. I'm too fucked to go to gym. What do you say to cutting the rest of the day and getting a Turbo Dog or something?'

J.D. smiled. 'I could be up for that.'

Later that afternoon, J.D. turned to me and said, 'What the hell are we doing here anyway?'

I looked around at the peaceful expanse of trees. They seemed to stretch for miles in all directions. I just looked at him, smiled, and said, 'Nothing. Just hanging.'

'In the middle of a forest? What are we gonna do here? Go hunting?'

I laughed. 'Maybe.'

He shook his head and lit up another cigarette.

'Anyway,' I said, 'I've got something to show you.'

I pulled a harmonica out of my pocket and played a few bad notes on it. J.D. laughed.

'Wait, wait, I'm just warming up.' I laughed too. 'Watch this.'

This time I played something that just about resembled the blues, and my one-man audience continued to laugh.

He said, 'Well colour me impressed,' and laughed again.

I stopped playing. 'I'll get better,' I protested.

'You'd better.' He smiled and stubbed out his cigarette.

'Hey, I saw your dad's TV commercial last night, "bringing each state..."'

He finished the sentance for me. '..."to a higher state." Yeah, I saw it too. I'm gonna take a piss.' He pointed to my harmonica. 'Try not to hurt too many people with that thing, all right?'

'Asshole!'

J.D. wandered off behind some trees and I played a few more bad notes. Then I heard a girls voice.

'Look Chuck, it's Huckleberry Finn.' She laughed, and so did Chuck.

I slipped the mouth organ into the pocket of my jeans, and stood up to face Melissa Blankwood and Chuck Simmons. I stepped away from the tree I was leaning against, countering her snide remark with one of my own.

'Well if it isn't Jack and Jill,' I said. 'What a nice surprise. It's such a joyous thing to see love blossoming in the woods on such a bright and sunny day.'

I smiled at her, which seemed to piss her off. Chuck looked bemused, and then annoyed as he realised I was blocking his path.

Melissa cocked her head to one side, and grinned at me. I knew she had just thought of something. Instead of just pushing past me and walking off, she was going to play the situation a little more. She wanted to hurt me. She couldn't do that herself. so she was going to get Chuck to do it for her.

'Davie.' She tossed some words around in her head, and then said, 'I know you still have some feelings for me. But like I told you yesterday, Chuck's my boyfriend now. Deal with it. I don't date losers.'

Chuck was falling right into her little game. His fists were already clenched, and he was already getting a hardon at the prospect of beating the crap out of me.

She continued, 'You and I just aren't compatible Davie. So don't try to kiss me again.'

Chuck, now only three feet away from me, whirled around to face Melissa. 'He tried to kiss...' He faced me. 'You tried to kiss her!?'

Even though I was faced with the possibility of my head being shattered by Chuck's pounding fists, I still smiled at the two of them.

He was really angry now, and he shouted, 'You little dick! You think you can go kiss my girl anytime you want?! You little fuck! I'm gonna crush your face shitbag!'

'Chuck!' Melissa called out to him. 'That's not very fair, is it? You could easily beat him.'

He looked at her with confusion in his eyes. I too, had no idea what she was playing at. Was she about to let me go?

Then she finished her sentence. 'You could at least give him a chance to run away. A five second head-start should be fair enough.'

His eyes lit up at the suggestion. 'Yeah,' he said to her. 'Good idea.' Then he raised his voice again and snarled at me. 'You got five seconds you little cocksucker! Then they're gonna need a shovel to scrape you off the floor!'

I backed off a few feet, but I had no intention of running.

He lifted up his left hand and stretched out the fingers. He began to count. 'Five!' He lowered his thumb. 'Four!' Then he lowered his index finger, and one finger for every number after that.

'Three! Two!'

I could see a demonic look of glee on both their faces. Melissa and I had been so close all those years ago. And now it had come to this. She wanted to see me beaten to a pulp by some dumb jock that she considered cool.

Then it happened. J.D. slipped out from behind some trees, gun raised, into Chuck's line of sight.

'One.' J.D. stated calmly.

Chuck and Melissa both looked shocked to see J.D. Neither of them had any idea that he had been there, and they both took several steps back, away from him and his gun.

I drew my own gun and cocked the hammer. I pointed it at Melissa, while J.D. kept his trained on Chuck.

Then Melissa smirked. She cocked her head to one side again and laughed sarcastically. 'Water pistols? Toy guns? Who do you two think you are anyway? Bonnie and Clyde?' Then like a ringmaster to his lion, she commanded, 'Chuck, knock the shit outa these two assholes.'

Just as Chuck took his first step forward, J.D. smiled a knowing smile. 'No, Melissa, Bonnie and Clyde were lovers.' He nodded towards me. 'Me and Dave here, well, we're more like Thelma and Louise...with dicks.'

'Yeah,' I agreed, 'Thelma and Louise...with dicks.'

I'm not sure who shot first, whether it was J.D or myself, but a single bullet from my revolver flew through the air and smashed into Melissa's chest, sending her hurtling backwards to the ground. At about the same time, Chuck was shot in the forehead, and fell to the floor with a soft thud.

'Holy shit!' J.D. screamed. 'What a rush!'

'Holy shit! Fuck me! Fuck me!' I yelled. 'I just killed my ex-girlfriend!'

'Ex! Ex!' J.D. repeated. 'Just keep focusing on the ex!'

'Shit! She thought these were water pistols?!'

'Now that's one dumb bitch who deserved to die.'

'Fuck!'

I walked over to Melissa's body. I didn't have to check for a pulse to see that she was dead. I could tell by simply looking into her lifeless eyes.

Then the reality of what I'd just done began to sink in. 'I killed her.' I whispered flatly. 'I killed her.'

J.D. put his hand on my shoulder. I looked into his eyes. He was excited about what we'd done. 'She was dead already, remember? You said so yourself.' He quoted me, 'J.D. the girl I loved is dead.'

I realised that I was squating on the ground and I stood up. 'You're right. The king and queen of Lincoln High are dead. Long live the king!'

We grinned at each other.

'She finally took a vacation.'

'A long one,' I added.

J.D. looked a the two dead bodies, each lying in their own puddle of blood. Then he looked at me. 'Wait a minute.' He said, 'You planned this, didn't you?'

'What!?'

'You planned this. You knew they were going to walk through these woods. Didn't you?' He looked pleased.

'I didn't plan anything. It was a coincidence.'

'Coincidence? Bullshit!'

'Hey,' I said, 'You say tomato, I say tomato.'

'Yeah,' He laughed, 'Well tomato or tomato, we each just committed a murder. And that, my friend, is a crime.'

'Shit! Fuck, man, fuck! What the fuck did we just do?' Images of cockroach ridden jail cells began to flash through my mind.

'Look, look. We did a murder. That's a felony, but if this was a suicide, well...'

'Then we'd be off the hook.'

'Exactly!' He said excitedly. He went over to Melissa's body. 'Right or left handed?'

'What?'

'Was she right or left-handed?'

'I, err,' I tired to remember.

'Come on, we don't have much time here. You two dated for a while; right or left?'

'Right!'

J.D. placed his gun in her right hand. 'You shot her, so you put your gun in assholes hand. And as I shot him, I put mine in princess's here.'

I did what he asked.

'There,' he said. 'Now it looks like they shot each other.'

It was starting to get dark. In a few more minutes we would be deprived of light, and neither of us knew the woods that well.

'Why?' I wondered out loud. 'Why'd they shoot each other? We need a motive.' I looked up at the sky again, what little of it I could see through the dense tree coverage. 'And fast,' I added.

'Right,' he murmered. 'Motive. Motive. Look through his bag. See if you can find a pad we can write a suicide note on or something.'

'Okay.'

I rummaged through Chuck's school bag, but all I found was a sports kit and some dope.

'Shit!' I said to J.D. 'This dumb fuck doesn't even carry a pen!'

'It's all right. I got the perfect motive.'

He took out a book from Melissa's backpack.

'What is it?'

'Romeo and Juliette.'

'That's right,' I said, 'We're studying Shakespear in English.'

'We'll just underline a few meaningful passages and then we got ourselves a suicide.'

'No we don't have time for that. Besides, you can barely read in this light.'

'Then what do you suggest?'

I rubbed my eyes. I was so tired.

'Wait! Of course!' He took out a switchblade and cut the book in half, along the spine.

'Shit man, you got a switchblade? I want one of those.'

He tossed one half of the book to me and I placed it near Chuck's body.

'There,' he said. 'One copy of Romeo and Juliette, cut nicely in half to represent the torn hearts of these two teenagers, who's love was riddiculed for being young and a meaningless phase, which was ment only to be travelled through. Now, they took their own lives to prove to everyone that society is wrong, and that romance still struggles to pump through the hearts of a moden teenager. Albeit slightly fucked up.' He tapped the cover of the book with his knife. 'It's perfecto!' He dropped the book on the ground beside Melissa.

'Wow. You're good. Have you done this before?'

'No I'm afraid I'm a virgin when it comes to murder.' He paused for a second. 'Until today. Come on, we better get the hell outta here, before somebody stummbles across our little charade.'

We turned to leave. 'Shit,' I moaned.

'What?'

'I really loved that gun.'

He grinned. 'Relax tiger, I'll get you a new one.'

A few days later, he did.

The cops bought the suicide thing, and the question of murder never arose. We killed the two most popular kids in school, made it look like suicide, and we didn't get caught. J.D. found that very amusing, and so did I to an extent. Only every now and then I would remember the old Melissa, from junior high. I would find myself thinking about the days we used to spend together, watching TV, going to the movies and the school dances. But then I would catch myself, and then I would remember how much she had changed, and how she used to run the school with the little bitchy clique of friends.

I had no regrets about Chuck. He was an all-round asshole, always had been. The football team lost its next four games without its star player, but it's not like I gave a shit.

It was about two months after the 'suicides' that J.D. told me his dad was moving on.

'You're leaving?'

'Yeah,' he sighed, 'Week come Monday.'

'Where?'

'Ohio.'

'Ohio? Shit man! What the fuck's in Ohio?'

'A place called Sherwood.' He said. 'My dad's gotta new contract lined up there.'

I smoked my cigarette down to the filter and then tossed it aside. It was Friday night, and we were sitting outside the Snappy Snack Shack.

'This sucks.'

'Yeah,' he agreed. 'I've been moved around all my life, from Batten Rouge to Dallas, Texas, and now my dad's taking me on his crusade to Sherwood, Ohio.'

I took out my new gun and fiddled with it. It gave me something to look at while I spoke. I said, 'I, err, I think I'm gonna miss you man.'

'Come on now tiger, let's not get all sentilmental okay?'

I put my gun away. 'Right. This is, err, well this place isn't gonna be the same once you leave.'

'Hmm. Hey, what do you say we grab a bottle of tequila, take it out into the woods, and drink till dawn?'

'I could be up for that.'

*

The sky was a perfect black, dotted with a thousand stars, and a bright, full moon. The wind had settled down for the night, but it still tossed an occasional spiral of leaves across the empty cemtery.

I was still sitting on the ground, which now felt damp under my jeans. I stood up, looking down at J.D.'s plaque. I smoked one final cigarette before speaking to my friends grave.

'You came to Sherwood, Ohio, and you managed to wipe your slate clean. Now I...now I guess it's my turn.'

I unzipped my leather jacket and threw it aside. The cold air pinched at my skin through my thin T-shirt. I activated the bomb, setting the timer for twenty seconds. It began its countdown.

'It's the design you taught me that night. It's a little crude, I know, but this is my first solo attempt.'

Fifteen seconds.

'We were like a double team back home. Before you moved. We cut off the head of evil, when we killed Melissa Blankwood and Chuck Simmons, but soon after you left, another two assholes took their place. Couldn't do anything about it by myself. For a couple of weeks I just watched the school become even worse than when Melissa ran the place. Better the devil you know, I guess. But your new way.' I looked down at the bomb; nine seconds. 'OUR new way. We get to clean the slate once and for all.'

Five seconds.

I stopped talking and focused my eyes on the white moon, above me. I sighed. Then I felt, for just a fraction of a second, a tiny pain in my chest. And for just a fraction of a second, I saw a blinding flash of light, and I heard the loudest sound that I had ever heard. For just a tiny fraction of a second. Then there was nothing. No sound. No light. No pain. Nothing.

Then, 'Greetings and saluatations...'

This story, and others like them, can be found at THE ULTIMATE JASON DEAN. Well worth a visit.