Sven and Dansk were less than Freshmæn, but they snuck out of lunch with the best of them; them being the "cool" seventh graders - the ones who took risks. These boys had a small figurative scale in their minds, you see. This scale weighed the risks relatively accurate, however it should be noted that one side of the scale was saturated with peer pressure and the overwhelming need/ desire to be cool. This was the side that always tipped down further than the other side - the one which would tell the boys that they could be punnished for their mid-day escapes. Though it could be argued that what the boys really desired was that feeling of freedom.
The boys chowed on Wendy's fries smothered in katsup and sipped that caffeinated syrup called cola, turning their pink stomachs into a cauldron of potential indigestion - no doubt they would feel the effects of such a lucrative meal on the bus ride home. At this approximate time of day, it was bad to be an adult who wished to spend their luncheon inside the Wendy's, as the commotion of a dozen thirteen year old boys would surley raise any sane man's blood pressure. It might not be out of anger from the noise, but from the disappointment he feels; he may not have been so adventurous in his youth.
One of these men, Glenn, sits across from the boy's, his back to them. He doesn't want them to see his old face, or his Fry's nametag. He was alone, and at the moment, felt like something terrible as his presence strongly contrasted with the vibrent youth that was behind him. They were young, had prospects, and were still having at their first chance in life. While Glenn was a desolate plain of deforestation, they still had a flourishing, blossoming ecosystem. Just wait till you get out of college, Glenn muttered to himself. If they're lucky, he thought, the world will be Mad Max by then. Little bastards.
One of the more obnoxious boys holds up his empty fry carton and waves it in the air, "I fancy a second set!"
Sven and Dansk mostly keep to themselves; they are close friends. Dansk asks Sven if he's ready to go back to school, as the High Schoolers will be in soon. Sven looks at the other boys; it doesn't seem like they're ready to go.
"Let's wait until everyone leaves."
"OK." Dansk gets up and heads for the restroom.
He thinks in the stall; Dansk knows about the High Schoolers and what they're capable of. They could do a variety of things. For example, at the moment, Dansk was imagining being made fun of by one of the older High Schoolers. His younger friends would laugh, as they would have no choice. Unless, of course, Cole Kane was there...
The doors to Wendy's burst open - it's Cole Kane. He's still smoking inside, even though it's not allowed.
"You can't smoke in here!" Yells the manager.
But Cole just turns his head and says in a deep, gravely voice, "I know." He continues to walk; his leather jacket doesn't make a sound - he's worn it so much it's like Cashmere. The keys to his Camaro jingle on his side, clanking against his Zippo lighter with Kurt Cobain's face embossed on the side. Cole exhales. A smoke ring outlines his face like a halo. He hasn't shaved. He is, without a doubt, Dansk's hero.
"Something funny?" Everybody stops laughing. Kane's voice is soft but powerful. The High Schooler that took of Dansk's kipot and put it on his head is now a bit remorseful for his actions. He takes the small, round Jewish cap off and sets it on the table next to Dansk.
Cole steps foreward, "I don't think that's where that goes, Bro."
Bro takes the cap and places it, reluctantly, on Dansk's head.
"You think making fun of Jewish people is funny, Bro?"
"No, man - I was just giving him a hard time, that's all."
Cole sucks his cigarette; he's thinking. And then he blows the smoke in Bro's face. "Hard time?"
Bro doesn't know what to say. The fact is, Cole always makes it hard for people to have something to say.
Cole continues, "You say something about hard time?"
"Yeah, like a joke..."
"I don't want to hear anything from you about hard time. Because you don't know what hard time is, Bro."
"I'm not talking about jail, Cole..."
"Well then you aint hearing me clear are you? Because hard time, jail or jokes, it's never a good time for the person who's in it." Cole puts his hand on Dansk's shoulder. "It's easy time for this kid, Bro."
"OK."
~
When Dansk finished in the restroom, he exited only to find in shock, a band of High School kids sitting at the table his friends were at. They had arrived in a rumble of internal combustion and squealing tyres. Because of this, they always showed up without warning.
They left me. Dansk thought to himself in horror. The bastards left me. But Dansk figured they couldn't be too far away. And surely Sven is waiting in some dark corner somewhere for him. So Dansk headed silently out the door, only to run into one of the late coming High Schoolers. Strait into her chest.
"Watch it little perv." she said.
"Sorry."
Dansk dashed out of the Wendy's and towards the alley. In the distance, he could see his friends. But he was suddenly, without warning, taken from behind by some unknown person. It wasn't Sven, he thought, as the person was too powerful. I could be a High Schooler, but when Dansk turned around, the first thing he saw was a nametag that said Glenn in italics.
Some man, Dansk thought, is grabbing me. He might have been in the retail business, but he handled Dansk like a ragdoll, like a helpless boy about to be molested.
"Hel..."
But his mouth was suddenly covered, and his body being taken into a dark place behind a dumpster. When suddenly...
"Aaaah!"
Dansk was released, and he ran fast, but he turned around to see what had happened. And when he saw, he was in fact so ecstatic - it was Cole Kane, with a syringe into Glenn's neck. Some footsteps were approaching - those of his so-called-friends for which he sacrificed his safety to impress so often. But here was Cole Kane, a teenager which Dansk didn't even know, who was killing a man for his safety.
Glenn moaned and weeped, while Cole let his body slip onto the ground easily, respectfully, as if he had won the fight fairly. Cole held his arm - it was bleeding.
"Are you ok?" Dansk asked Cole.
"Heh..." Cole was kind of delirious, "was just about to... well, you don't need to know, kid. I'm fine."
All the boy's approached the scene; they were silent and scared and confused. What with the man with a syringe in his jugular.
"He won't be waking up any time soon," Cole told them, "he's got enough cocaine in his system to kill a man."
"Thanks for saving me." Dansk said; they pounded fists.
"No, bro. You saved me. You see that needle - that was for me."
"You were going to kill yourself?"
Cole pulls out a cigarette and lights up, "When you're my age, you see the world in a whole new shitty light." He reaches behind the dumpster and retrieves a Fender Stratocaster. He pulls out a pick from the strings and begins to strum and sing...
Just a kid.
Just a kiddie kid.
I told my daddy "I...
think I'm goanna cry.
My momma's dead...
she shot her fuckin' head."
He said "Cole Kain...
take some pro-pain,
take some low-pain,
take some cocaine..."
