Chasing Rebels

Where do I start? Where should I start? Perhaps a 4.0 GPA that I never had, or a silver Lexus my father hadn't gifted me for my sweet sixteen a year ago? I had none of the best luxuries so why should my life be interesting? Sad to say it is, without a doubt. But all for the wrong reasons. To say jealousy was a b***h is a complete understatement of the century. It's the bane of existence of every seventeen year old who watches Karlie Kloss on the runway of a Victoria Fashion show thinking she's fuckin' God. You could say it was my bane as well, minus the deluded false worship of an average jane who simply knows how to perfect a walk in inch heels. Watching people with perfect lives, people who wake up with a smile on their face, who gets excited going back to school sharing the latest gossip of who got knocked up senior year or who cheated on who. Have a trust fund to get into a good college all the while leaving high school with a good reputation and something to remember them by. Maybe I should start with the sad notion that I am jealous of all that, as shallow as it may seem. Key point: they lived a normal life. Having attended several high schools and none of them taught me that s**t. "Room twelve. No, that's not it," I mutter to myself as I pass what seemed like the thirteenth corridor of this huge ass high school. Badly navigating through the halls of Merriway High was not what I had in mind when the principal gave me a pamphlet which, a bold move might I say, had an exact floor plan copy of the whole school. It's either the school board were dumb as rocks or really have high trust in their system not to be worried about robbers, troublemakers, or arsonists. Elwoods Vicinity was a shitty town. I'd say they just don't give a flying f**k. Something familiar caught my eye on the bulletin board near the lockers. There were different posters hanging all over. Some were sign up sheets for all kinds of clubs. Drama club. Can't act for s**t. Choir. If they want birds to die mid-flight. Football. Sure, if I was a guy. Cheerleading. No. Above the board hung a clock that looks vaguely familiar. It had gigantic blue rims hanging just a few inches almost reaching the ceiling. I was certain I've seen this part of the building before. Damn it. I swear I'm not lost. I could start telling my story less than three hours ago where I stood at the very same place contemplating how I could start the year on an interesting note. "Come on, Vie. Walk fast, it's not like you're wearing standard f**k me pumps," Mal said while mumbling something under his breath. I swear, if he wasn't my brother he would have been buried six feet under by sunrise. I look up to where he was kneeling one foot on the window sill of a second floor room with half his body already inside. Mal bent over, dangling a hand for me to reach. A hand I don't take. I scowl at him. "I got it." "Jesus, is this the part where you say you're a strong independent woman who don't need the help of a man because of equality and all that shit." "No, because your hand is filled with grime from concrete dust. What's up your ass, you're not the one who got woken up in the middle of the night by a fuckin' kid clanking on the kitchen pots like it's the new year. Lighten up!" I whisper-yelled, still feeling the after effects of his rude wake up call not even at the c***k of dawn. Mal lets out silent laugh, his eyes aimlessly drifting off to the distance as I angle my footing on the exterior concrete that separates the flower bed and the paved walkway that I'm assuming students often use to sit in their spare time. Let's hope the janitor cleans when the sun rise before students start piling in. I'm pretty sure I stepped on dog s**t on the way here. Reaching up to grab the window sill, I pull myself up with a grunt. "Watch your stitches," Mal warned. I wave him off. "Yeah, yeah." Without protest, I let him grab my waist to pull me all the way inside. A light throb on the side of my stomach erupts from the movement, but I don't let it bother me mainly because my chest was heaving intensely at the simple exercise. I think now's the perfect time to reconsider working out. It seems to be working perfectly well for my brother. Mal mockingly pat my back and I swat his hand away contemplating hurling a shoe at his head. "Remind me why we couldn't have done this tomorrow? Or maybe not two hours before the ass c***k of dawn?" "Because first days always get people talking. Especially bored shits who spent their summers inside the basement jacking the beat watching Teletubby p**n thinking their lives couldn't be any better than that." "And people call you a saint." I'm not kidding. The last high school we attended a teacher actually awarded him with a certificate of goodwill, yeah, that was a thing, for helping out at a local outreach program at the community center. Any person with half a rat's ass who knows Mal would know that he only did that to get a personal gain of some sort. And that personal gain? Getting into the pants of my ninth grade teacher just to get her to lose her job after giving him his only failing grade that got Mal to repeat a year. Petty rascal. The room's interior has white walls painted with a little hint of red on the top and bottom. Numerous amounts of bookshelves were displayed opposite of the windows we crawled through along with a couple of desks at the center of the room in rows. Light beams hang right on top of our heads but not low enough to hit us. Looked like we were in the library. "Ready to do this?" Mal asked while taking the bag off his shoulder which contained various shades of brown of oil based paint. "Do I have a choice?" I ask walking past him towards the librarian's desk. Mal winks the same time my hand reaches for a can he readily gives up. This is the part where I should hold remorse, think about the moral good and give in to the silent acquiescence to give up this vexatious life my brother and I have been leading. Moral good? I can't afford that, not when my days are numbered. Invisibly, but numbered nonetheless. The least I could do was make the most of it. And what better way to enjoy life than to feel the thrill of doing something you know you shouldn't do? I proceed to pour a good amount of paint on the librarian's chair so that it won't dry up before the students and staff members could arrive to witness our handicraft. We have about an hour before sunrise to do this. We had to be gone by six when security usually opens up the school. While I did the librarian's, Mal proceeded to pour on all six of the first table nearest the door purposefully leaving the rest untouched. Later we'll see which student got the lucky bullets. It's like Russian roulette. You load the ammunition, but the course of daily life takes the rest of the responsibilities. "There's a couple of classrooms just down the hall. We'll start there and work our way down," he said softly while sneaking around the halls hoping there's no one inside the building. We were already lucky enough to sneak past security patrolling the front entrance of the school, we don't want to press luck even more since she'd been a fair lady who'd been softly caressed so far. I nod falling in step with Mal as we enter room after room. Four years and a plethora of high schools later and you'd think we got tired of pulling s**t like this. Nope, and I'd like to think we never will be. Mal was my only companion since this whole s**t started, and while it wasn't ideal to become a trespasser, I like the excitement. The thrill of it, I never want not to feel. It was exhilarating. Like being behind the wheel. A melancholic pang in my heart erupted at the thought I'd never experience the vibration of the thrum and cool leather seat as I step on the gas . . . I shake my head. Now was not the time for longing. s**t happened, and it will continue to happen so long as I'm alive. I can't afford to lose focus on that just to appease a desire. Almost done with a few minutes to spare, Mal and I made our way to the last room on the ground floor. Mal lightly jiggles the knob, but it doesn't give. He side-steps letting me take the lead. I bend to my knees to have a good angle, my fingers instinctively flying to my pocket to take my tools and firmly lay then on the floor. Maybe I'm not as physically fit as my brother but at least I had one skill of a thief. Not as good as having a body of an athlete but it's something. Mal leans his back against a locker. "Never thought I'd say this but I'm actually looking forward to this year," he breathed, breaking the silence of the early morning. "Sucks that I won't see the reactions of our poor sufferers. "Easy for you to say, you're already done with high school, meanwhile I'm stuck having to endure another year of bong heads blowing a hit on my face like it's the last meal on earth." Mal was gong to a community college nearby so at least we'll still be together even if he can't have my back all the time. "It's always the same in these towns. Addicts, drug dealers, and shitty police departments. It's no wonder we keep getting away with this shit." He who never learns from consequences will continue to bite the same hook. Mal shrugs. "It's a skill more like." I pull back from the door and point the tension wrench at him. "You know, a compliment works if it comes from somebody else." "Oh, I've been given a lot of compliments in my time. Preferably down—" "God, you're a pig." "Every prude has to have one," he retorts. "Funny," I deadpan. Mal scratched the back of his head. "You know, maybe you followed the rules high school would be a less pain in the ass." I size him up, head to toe. "As you can see I have a terrible role model growing up." I turn back to the knob slipping the tension wrench inside the small crevice of the key hole. That's why Mal and I were so close in our childhood years. He and I shared a similarity when it came to feeling alive. Feel human. The thrill of doing something dangerous was far too appealing for us to ignore. We were different in many ways. His type of thrill often involved a third party. Remorse came easily. But remorse was also easy to forget. I don't try to get into his mind ever since I had to give up my thrill because I know if I did, I might make a better schemer than him. And his mind sometimes was scary as s**t. Mal blows out a breath. "Do you think there's more to life than this?" "Lock-picking or the breaking and entering? Be more specific." I try to feel for the soft click that always followed by an open door, but the mechanism felt solid. "All this in general." I shrug. "Either way, there's always more to life than what we have right now. In case you haven't noticed, we're no Malcolm in The Middle." "It's hard not to when we live in the shittiest downlow neighborhoods." I look back at him and smile. "But it's the best one out of all of them, don't you think? Fenced. A park three blocks over from our house. And a half decent public school that doesn't smell like piss or cigarettes." It hasn't been three days since we moved to Elwoods Vicinity but I can already tell I was going to like it. But Mal's expression suggested otherwise. But what's new with Mal? He's always like that after every move. This little ritual of making people buzz from the mischief of ours helps him cope, a fuckin' weird ass coping mechanism if you ask me, but whatever helps him get his screws on straight. I turn back to the knob. "Besides, I could think of ways to have fun. Hope you don't miss me too much when you're in college. We won't get to do crazy s**t together, anymore. But we could always do it on the weekends, though. Bet that you'd get suspended before I do." That's not something to be proud of but it's a nice little competition to spice up the days. Mal will be near. A convenience, if you must. As much as I liked having my brother behind my back all the time, we had to go our different ways eventually. And it's not like he's moving to another state, just a few minutes drive. Mal gives a faint chuckle and I furrow my eyebrows, briefly glancing at his direction. "Yeah," he mumbled. "You alright?" I ask. He nods. "Get back to work if you don't want to spend another hour behind a holding cell." Mal looked nervous, but I don't press the subject. "And who keeps leading me there?" Rattling the door knob, I growl. "The lock is jammed. I can't get it open," I say, tossing the pick and tension wrench onto the small bag sitting on the floor next to me. Cale snaps his head in my direction then pushes himself off the locker, a smile creeping on his face. "I guess you're not the s**t at all, little sis." "Yeah, well at least I'm not a little b***h who has the girl do the dirty work." "Calm your t**s. That's the only thing you're good for these days. Can't even get a decent omelet." I zip up the small back and pocket the damn thing on the back of my pants. "Shove your complaining down that pathetic ass of yours, your feminine is showing." "Something you lack these days." I swear, he can find the most minuscule words to say and can successfully use it to annoy me. So far, it's working. I clasp my hands together. "As the famous Heather Duke once said, go fuckk yourself with a chainsaw." Mal picks up the bag with the empty paint cans off the floor and flings it over his shoulder. "Who's Heather Duke?" "Someone who can beat your ass," I retort. I crane my neck up at the door assessing if there was another way in through the windows. But they were sealed shut. Unless I was air, I could pass through the crevice between the wall and the door. Now that would be a cool superpower. Mal walks ahead of me and my eyes wander to the bulletin boards. Sign up sheets and first day announcements were already posted, if that didn't explain what type of school this was, I'd say this was a public school that actually gave a s**t about their students. Above was a blue clock that accentuated the walls. Merriway High was not all that bad looking. My face falls when I see the minute hand steadied near the twelve. 5:58. We should have been gone by five-fifty since security was supposed to open school doors by six. Mal!" I whisper-yelled. He turns around the same time I see a faint beam of light coming from the right hallway. Heavy footsteps padded down the polished tiles and Mal jerks his head before ducking into an empty classroom. The sound of keys jiggling across the halls grew louder and I knew I had no time to follow Mal into the room so instead I make a break for the stairs. I dash through the steps feeling the threads of my stitches move but I don't mind them. Frank was going to have my head if I step foot inside a police holding cell again. Somehow that's worse than being back into the emergency room. My feet cuts through the library locking the door behind me and head toward the window. I stop. s**t. Mal was supposed to climb out ahead so he could catch me. But obviously, he isn't here right now. I'd have to jump alone. Though, I'm more worried at the possibility he got caught. The library's door rattles and I hear the security guard jiggle the set of keys to unlock the knob. Now or never, I guess. I swing my leg over the window sill and say a silent prayer not to break my ankles on the fall. I was two storeys up, I had nothing to cushion my body with. Mal would have stuck the landing more better since he was like a damn ninja most of the time. Years of being a degenerate, I suppose. Then I hear the creak of the door sliding open. Closing my eyes, I let go, plunging into the concrete below. I expected the ground to feel more solid but my ass landed on something that resembled a very thick mattress filled with water. It hurt, and I could almost feel my neck dislocated. I hear a grunt. Mal was below me. No, I landed on Mal. "Goddamn, woman. And here I thought looks can be deceiving. You sure I'm the pig between the two of us? f**k, you weigh a ton." I throw my head back to rest on the ground and laugh. Mal caught me. I knew could always rely on him to be there even when I can't see him. Change always surrounded our life, but one thing that always stuck was Mal. Not even Frank who was unpredictable with his alcohol. "Alright. Get your fat ass off me." I push off him and soon enough, we were running toward the west side of the school. Mal was first over the wall tossing the bag over and pulling himself up before offering a hand that I reach so he could pull me up. We both jump, running across the streets of Elwoods Vicinity feeling alive and in control again. We laugh, screaming onto the dead air of the early morning, happiness that we owned another day of running wild and free without having to fear for our lives. A stolen ephemeral feeling that we would gladly risk again in another day. Yeah, three hours ago is a good place to start. But it doesn't completely contextualize my story. I look across the hallway to see that the door I was unable to unlock earlier this morning was flooded with students going in with the hopes of making it in time before the bells rings. Lucky them. I continue trekking down the hallway, refusing the urge to ask. If I can't rely on myself for such a simple task then I can't rely on myself at all. And relying on myself had always been the key to my survival so far. Especially now that Mal wasn't hovering over my shoulders like he used to. My bodyguard. My protector. My life's been interesting for reasons I keep under a locked basement with a vow to never fidget with the key. Maybe I should start my story by saying, amidst the students that rushed to get to their classes on time before the bell, I was a girl who managed to escape her murder.