To put it bluntly, Flash
Gordon II
stunk. The only thing I liked about it was that Casey Winslow and
his
friends took us to see it. They made jokes all the way through it
and
cut it down so bad that even the actors on the screen looked annoyed.
We left the theater when it was over and cruised
around the mall
like a pack of ravenous wolves. I was hoping somebody from my
class
would see us together, but the only freshmen we did see didn’t
recognize me. As usual.
Casey led us into the video arcade to see if my
brother Curt had topped his latest Astral
Warrior score. He had. Casey scowled as he looked
over the initials on the screen and slipped in a quarter to meet the
challenge.
If you’ve never played Astral Warrior
before, it would be impossible to describe it to the extent that it
deserves. It’s the most complicated and intense video game ever
created. It has so many variations to it that it’s impossible to
play
the same game twice, and there are so many different levels of skill
that it would cost you a small fortune in quarters just to get used to
the rules. The fact that Casey and my brother were the only
people
with their initials on the scoreboard definitely said something about
the kind of megadudes they really were.
We watched in fascination as Casey ripped through
the first few levels. Astral
Warrior
was child’s play to him. He racked up so many points in so short
a
time that Curt’s record was surpassed in just ten minutes. Once
Casey
put his initials at the top of the scoreboard, we decided to
leave.
We raced through the parking lot and piled into the
van, then tore
out of there in a flash. Before long we were flying down the road
with
Judas Priest’s “You’ve Got Another Thing Coming” blasting through
the speakers. I glanced around the van as everyone chanted the
lyrics and played air guitar.
“I can’t believe I’m actually going cruising with
you guys. This totally blows my mind!”
Jeremy Christopher was sitting in the seat next to
mine. He
shrugged his shoulders and smiled. “What good is a mind if it
can’t be
blown?” In front of us, Doobie Brother rolled a joint from a big bag of
marijuana. When he was done, he lit it up, puffed on it, and
passed it
to A. J.
“Should he be smoking that stuff? He is
driving.” Doobie Brother looked back.
“He drives better when he’s stoned.”
A. J. passed the joint to Jeremy. Jeremy
took a hit and passed it to Casey. “Don’t I get to try it, too?”
I asked.
“Try it, too?” echoed A. J. “Nobody here is
‘just trying it.’ We’re professional smokers. We’re licensed and
everything.”
Sylvia shook her head. She and Casey were
sitting in the seat
behind us. “I don’t want you smoking this stuff,
Crystal. You’re too
young.” Then she smoked it, too.
“How old were you when you first tried it?” I asked
her. She had to think about her answer.
“Fourteen, I think.”
“How about you, Jeremy?”
“Fourteen.”
“Casey?”
“Three.”
“No, really.”
“Thirteen, as far as I can remember.”
“Well, I’m fifteen.”
Jeremy looked at me. “You sure don’t look
it. You look more like thirteen than fifteen.”
“Well, you look more like fifteen than seventeen, so
don’t talk.”
“See what this stuff does to you?”
“Quit smoking it then!”
“Quit smoking it
then!” Everybody laughed at the way he mocked my voice. I
felt my face turn red, but it was dark out, so nobody could really tell.
“Leave her alone, Jeremy. You don’t exactly
speak in a baritone yourself.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I can take it.”
Casey had his arm around Sylvia and would lean his
head back every
now and then to rest his head on the seat. “What the hell,
dudes. Let
her smoke it. It’s not like she’s never tried it before.”
I was wondering when he was going to mention
that. “You know, my brother got in a lot
or trouble over that.”
“That’s why I did it.”
Of course, nobody knew what we were talking
about. There were a
lot or strange expressions going around the van at that point.
Finally, somebody handed me the joint. I took a hit, tried to
hold it
in, coughed up half my guts, and almost passed out on the floor.
“Maybe you shouldn’t smoke this stuff,” said
Casey. “I mean, you don’t want to end up like me, do you?”
More weird expressions.
Sylvia nudged Casey. “What are you talking
about?”
Casey smiled innocently. “Nothin’.”
“I didn’t know you and Crystal were friends.”
“We ain’t.”
Under my breath, I said, “Well, screw you, too.”
“I mean, not yet, anyway.”
“I bet you and Crystal could really get along well,”
said Sylvia.
“You’re both space cadets. Maybe you could fly recon together.”
“Very funny.”
I looked over at Jeremy. “So, where are we
going?”
“Sparky’s. First we’re gonna get some beer.”
“Who’s old enough to buy it?”
“Nobody. A. J. does it in disguise. He
has a rubber mask and a
costume around here somewhere. They make him look like an old
man.”
“A crotchety old man,” A. J. corrected.
“A beer-drinking crotchety old man,” said Doobie
Brother.
“You get to drink at Sparky’s?”
“We sneak it into the basement. That’s where
our practice room is.”
“Man, you guys are so cool. You’ve got
everything all figured out when it comes to partying.”
“True,” sighed Casey. “Now, if we can only
figure out how to get Jeremy laid while he’s still a teenager...”
“Shut up, asshole. I’m workin’ on it.”
A. J. signalled and turned into the parking lot of a
convenience
store. “Here we is,” Doobie Brother announced. Casey pulled
two
twenty dollar bills out of his jacket.
“Get two cases, Grandpa. I’m kinda thirsty
tonight.”
“Two cases? Isn’t there school tomorrow?”
“Oh yeah, that’s right. Better make it three.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out another twenty.
“Where do you get all the money?”
“My great great great grandfathers were Butch
Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.”
“Yeah, right!”
“Don’t believe me then.”
A. J. slipped into his costume and got out or the
van. He was in
there about ten minutes when a State Police car pulled up. Two
troopers got out and went inside. “Shit!” said Casey. “He’s
busted.”
A minute later, the door opened up and A. J. came
out with the two
troopers carrying the beer. “Get down!” said Doobie
Brother. We hit
the floor in an instant. “Shhhhhhhh!”
The back door of the van opened up. We could
hear them put the
cases in and joke around about how the old man was going to drink all
that beer by himself. “That’s okay,” said A. J. in an
exaggerated
voice, “I usually spill most of it.” The door slammed shut and
A.J.
got in the van.
“That was close! What a rush!”
The state troopers drove away as he started up the
van. “They were just in there buying Lifesavers. It’s cool.”
We got back in our seats and were on the road in a
few seconds.
Casey began handing out beers to everyone, including me. “Chuck
the
bottlecaps, kiddies. My grandfather gets pissed when he finds
them in
here,” A. J. made sure to tell us.
I scraped my fingers trying to twist off the
bottlecap. Jeremy reached over and twisted it off for me.
“Thanks.”
I took my first drink and felt it sting my mouth as
it went down. “Yuck! How do you ever get used to this crap?”
“Don’t worry. You’ll learn to love it.”
I burped through my nose. “I can’t wait.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea if Crystal
drinks. I mean, her
parents are coming home tomorrow morning.” Sylvia looked at Casey,
expecting a reply. He only burped.
“Don’t worry about me,” I told her. “I can
handle it.”
“Spoken like a true party animal,” Jeremy
laughed. “Just make sure you don’t barf in the van.”
