Five Hundred Apiece

FIVE HUNDRED APIECE

    Colby Lang sits on his stoop. His fitted hat is pulled down low, with a flat brim blocking blue eyes from the sun. Skinny grey jeans, worn loosely, lead down to Dunks. Above that, a crisp white T-shirt. In one hand, he plays with a cigarette he’s been holding for two weeks. The other, his phone, scrolling through contacts. He pauses. First seeing, then staring, at a word; no longer really a name.
    “Hey man,” Zach says, walking up the steep steps. His shirt, buttoned up with a tightened tie, is still an inch too big around the neck. Loose khaki pants sag at the waist. “Just talked to Shute,” he says, before hesitating. “He said we gotta unload that-” lowering his voice, “That other White.”
    Colby rubs the cigarette gently between his long fingers, staring straight ahead.    
    Scratching his arm, Zach says quickly, “But I told him it was too cut… That you’d be against it.”
    Excited voices ring out from the sidewalk. Those little neighbor girls heading to the park. The friendly, tall one turns, laughing, bouncing a ball. She waves at Colby.
    “Listen,” Zach says. “Shute said we don’t have a choice.”
    Colby looks up, slowly, then back down at his phone. His heart thumps; his thumb lingers.
    Zach cranes his neck. “Look man,” he sighs, “I backed you up last time. But we can’t not do this. I-”
    “Shute can dump it himself,” Colby says, flatly. His voice is husky; deep, but shaved off.
    “What’re you gonna do for cash?” Zach asks, after a pause. “I have a job, and can barely get by.”
    “I’ve saved,” Colby shrugs, looking up. “Kept telling you to do the same.”
    Zach notices a pale purple under his friend’s eyes. Following Colby’s gaze towards the park, he shifts his weight, leaning in. “You say no to Shute, man,” he confides, softly, without malice. “You know you can’t stay here.” He pauses. “Plus dude, we’ll split it… Five hundred apiece.”
    Colby leans forward, falling silent for some time.
    “Remember when we were kids?” he says, dropping the cigarette. “Before Cassidy. We’d walk along the train tracks, throwing rocks against the rails. To see the sparks? Those tracks seemed endless, like you could go anywhere.” He looks down, silent again. “Been thinking about my mom,” he says, almost to himself. “Sitting there, alone, all these years. The way I left her - she didn’t deserve it.” He lifts his eyes, shaking his head. “I’m not pushing people poison. That s**t Shute gives us. It’s not what they pay for.”
    He glances back towards the park. The sun seems smothering. That tall girl is running into the road, chasing her ball. A black car rips around the corner, comes barreling up the street. Colby jumps up, tossing his phone away. The girl’s head is down. She’s heading towards the drain. Colby’s sprinting now, everything he has. He sees her. Arms reaching out, he desperately lunges at the girl. Tires screech; then a scream.

**********

    And there was that older boy in the hat mommy told me to stay away from when we pass him for the park and I don’t know why mommy cares but sometimes there’s other boys there and they don’t look so nice and he smiles when I wave but he seems sad and I can never see his eyes but Mrs. Drothler says always make eye contact and I guess maybe that’s why mommy doesn’t like him because she can never see his eyes. It was fun though Missy and me and Brooke play Off The Wall with the boys from school and the boys let us play and daddy takes us on weekends says he played too and says girls can play what they want when I tell him mommy wonders why we hate dolls but we don’t hate them and mommy braids my hair and one of the boys teased me once and I didn’t mind but I didn’t like it when he made fun of Missy and mommy says good girls don’t punch but daddy says defend yourself and the boy was being mean and made Missy mad. Yesterday Mrs. Drothler showed us how to make apples smell good and we pushed cloves into them and cinnamon spice stuff and it smelled like Christmas but it’s only May and Christmas is great but it’s so nice outside and I’m going to ask for a lot this year so I can put extra gifts in the Giving Box Mrs. Drothler showed us last year and mommy said you couldn’t trust it but there were all these pictures of kids on it and the kids seemed so sad but they were smiling and skinnier than other kids and Missy told me they don’t get Christmas and I thought that was weird because why was there a box then? Today was sunny and me and Missy and Brooke came to the park to play but there were no boys there and it was nice with no boys and we played anyway and then later the mean boy who made Missy cry came and we told him he can’t play with us and he took our ball and threw it over the fence and I ran to get it and was getting it but then the opening in the curb they say is sewers was gonna take it and it’s just a hole but I don’t know where it goes if it falls in and it took mommy weeks to get me this ball and I know mommy means well but she never wants to play with us and the ball is rolling I’m running and I can’t wait to get back at that mean boy he’s no bigger than me and I go to grab the ball but something blurry pushes me away and there’s noises and I hit my back and my head hits and I think there’s leaves and trees but mommy says not to play after dark.

**********

    I was always proud of him. My little soldier. Even the drug dealing; I wasn’t ashamed. He was smart. He always survived. But damn that little girl. No room for hate in me now; not now. Just. Damn. Those folks covered the costs. Was the least they could do and that mousy b***h of a woman acted like it was some grand charity. His face looked so thin when I saw it. Like it hadn’t seen a smile in years.
    I had blamed him for Cassidy, once. Don’t even know why I’d said it; poor kid already blamed himself. Maybe I thought he was stronger than me. Maybe, I just needed him to be. But what kind of mother throws that on her child? And where was I? She just went to stand in the ocean; she was only supposed to stand. He was always so mad, afterwards. At me. At everything. He would come home from being out with his friends - he was always out with his friends then - and they always hid their eyes. But I knew that smell. I was just so tired. And I threw words at him that no boy should bear. Now how can he know those things I never said enough? How special he was. To me, if no one else. How much I needed him. How much I still need him. That good heart, I could always see in his eyes. So strong, but too damn heavy for a boy his age. Just always thought there’d be time. And I want to see his smile again. I need to give him one of mine.
    But I’m so proud of him. My little soldier. There was a time, when he was real little, and Cassidy was just a baby. He had all these toy guns; protecting her. This olive-colored vest, like a commando. He came charging into my room, these big dimples in his cheeks. And I remember seeing those soft blue eyes. He held the toy shotgun, “Stick ‘em up!” he squealed in delight. I stepped back, putting my hands up, saying “I surrender! I surrender!” and then slowly crept towards him, got close, tickling him, taking the shotgun, and he wiggled free, pulling the pistol, and I tickled him and took the pistol, and then finally he pulled out a rubber knife, giggling, and I tickled, took the knife. I tossed it behind me. Then walking away to collect the toys, and give them back, I hear something plastic hitting the floor, and a grey grenade rolls just under my feet, and I turn to look at him - my little soldier - and he’s smiling, wide-eyed, with this s**t-eating grin on his face, and he opens his arms, wide, and says: “Kaboom, mommy!”
    Now how can you look down at the dirt, thinking it means anything? That anyone’s still there, listening. Dirt doesn’t hear; dirt hardly does anything. It just takes your tears, but can’t even see you cry.

Reviews

[KHBarr]

I don't really care about the main character until he is already dead. I wonder if you switched the order of parts 3 and 1 if you could change the way I feel about the character. If you can make his sacrifice more meaningful. I like playing with time, so this could just be my bias.

He plays with a cigarette he's been holding for two weeks? I don't get this.
I like him hovering over his mom's cell phone number. I like the line that it's become a word more than a name.
I like the clothes showing the one friend has a job, but isn't a professional. I like the scratching his arm to show he uses. I like that he doesn't have money.
I think what they're splitting is what Shute will give them to sell, but I didn't find this all the way clear.

The child's perception of the events is a brilliant addition, but the entire things is very difficult to read.
The run on sentences cause confusion and I am not sure how to pace them. I think the intent was to read it a mile a minute like a kid might be thinking, but the structure is too convoluted for me to comprehend it if I read it without any pauses. It's hard to avoid mistaking objects that end one sentence with subjects that start another in some instances.

The story starts off bleak and ends bleak. It has the scene in the middle which is optimistic and peppy.

I'm not sure what the story is driving at. What is the purpose you are trying to show here? You paint good emotion; you have great single lines. A lot of your exposition is excellent, but what is the purpose behind the story, or is it to assert life has no purpose.

[Collyn]

I am honestly not sure what I just read... xD but I really like the end. It just takes your tears, but can't even see you cry.