rissy stories

“So, I had to pick up my dad from jail last night,” I casually stated while throwing a red skittle up into the air. I stopped walking beside Devin to place myself perfectly underneath the little dark dot that clashed with the pink sky. I could feel Devin watching and judging me, probably with her hands on her hips, as I leaned my head back and obnoxiously stretched my mouth open. I anxiously awaited the downfall of my piece of candy until it landed perfectly on my tongue. I closed my mouth, straightened back up, and threw my fishnet-covered arms up into the air in victory. It’s the little thrills in life that count the most, in my opinion.

Crunch, chew, crunch.

As I anticipated, Devin was skeptically staring back at me with crystal-clear blue eyes that glowed in the twilight hanging over our neighborhood. Her hands were, in fact, on her hips, with her right pointer-finger tapping against her shorts. Even in the nestled darkness at ground level, I could see that her thin eyebrows were raised with a nonverbal question of: “Why do you always look like an idiot?”

“Like you have any room to judge how I look, Dev” I added, motioning to her hot pink hair with natural dirty blonde roots that was trapped in a messy bun at the top of her head and with a red bandana headband. She was also wearing red flannel that only covered the upper half of her skinny, tan body, leaving her flat stomach exposed and her jean shorts had hiked so far up her thighs that I could see the ends of her pockets that were supposed to be covered by the fabric. I fought the urge to yank all of her clothes down as she rolled her eyes at me and scoffed.

“Well, excuse me if my appearance doesn’t scream ‘virgin!’” She insulted my lack of shown skin as she walked away from me, her ankle-high cowboy boots clicking softly against the concrete sidewalk. I kept having to remind her that we lived in Pennsylvania, not Texas, but she always replied with: “Semantics.”

The warm, summer wind unexpectedly whipped my shoulder-length hair around my face and I could feel blue hair strands brush against my contact lenses, tangle themselves in my mascara-covered eyelashes, tickle my nose, and stick to my dark red lipstick. I stopped walking, quickly swallowed the strawberry-flavored candy and blew my cotton candy-colored hair out of my mouth. I heard Devin snicker as she stepped back and reached into my red, crumpled skittle bag.

“That’s karma for acting like you’re better than me,” She said with a deep, raspy, and accent-less voice, despite her “southern,” and revealing, appearance. She slid a green skittle between her peach-colored glossed lips and then looked at me funny, “Wait, did you say you picked your dad up from jail? Again?”

“Want to know what he did this time?” I asked with a nod as I used my black-nail-polished fingers to pull the hair away without smearing my makeup. Meanwhile, Devin reached into her back pocket and pulled out a red and white Marlboro box as well as a camouflage-designed lighter. She took a cigarette between two fingers, lit it, and inhaled one end while looking at me curiously. I knew that she wasn’t going to believe me, so I let out a soundless laugh that only resulted in quickly blowing air out of my nose as I looked down at my black boots and skinny jeans. She gracefully blew out a long puff of smoke into my face as I looked back up at her and held the skittle bag right it in front of her face, “He stole this candy.”

“Oh, shut up, Shawn,” Devin snapped while playfully shoving the bag away, sending little colorful dots flying everywhere. I gasped as they pinged against the sidewalk, and Devin uncaringly walked away towards the setting sun. The temperature had been pushing 95 degrees today, so at 6:00 PM, when the temperature dropped 20 degrees, it was the perfect time to go for a walk.

“I swear I’m not lying to you!” I cried, trying to sound as serious as possible. Devin glanced back over her shoulder, looking skeptical again. She faced me again and inhaled the sweet, succulent nicotine that I was now jonesing for, thanks to her.

“If he got caught… then how do you have the bag?” She asked, smoke pouring out of her nose and mouth while she folded her arms and cocked her hip.

“I paid for it to make sure Little Johnny wouldn’t press charges,” I answered with shame, reaching back into the bag and stressfully eating another skittle.

Crunch, chew, crunch.

Devin nodded while exhaling more smoke and coughing. She cleared her throat and then spit into the grass while I stared off into space, picturing that 4-foot nothing, chubby version of Johnny Depp getting pissed off because the skinny, incompetent cashier at his convenience store had the inability to tackle my 300 pound father to the dirty, black and white, linoleum floor.

“Yeah,” I muttered to no one in particular with thoughtful disappointment, snatching Devin’s cigarette out of her hand and taking a drag, “The cashier jumped onto my father’s back, which caused them to knock over a large stack of Cheez-It boxes. Dad tripped, they fell, and here we are.” I explained to her while exhaling smoke. I hesitantly gave the cigarette back to Devin once she held out her hand to me. Normally, I would have also received a glare for stealing it in the first place, but she became much more understanding when it came to our parents.

Our families may have been well-to-do middle classers, but they did some weird shit sometimes. Devin’s parents went to swinger’s bars on weekends when they were still married. They would walk through their front door around 2:00 AM on a Saturday with people like Little Johnny, wake up Devin, and whisper: “Mommy and daddy brought home another friend, so don’t be surprised if he is at the table in the morning.” However, my dad just got bored with my mom working as a criminal investigator all day and night. So, he randomly decided, “Hey, I’m going to be a criminal again to piss off my wife today.” But hey, a little thrill never killed anyone.

Devin suddenly smirked at me as though she could read my mind. She flicked her cigarette, causing little orange fireballs to dance across the sidewalk.

“Your dad really sucks at crime, you know?” She asked with a laugh, trying to lighten the mood. We were now facing forward, continuing our walk. The sun was still setting, the sky pink and cloudy. The medium-sized houses around us all had their porch lights on and the smell of hamburgers and hotdogs cooking wafted through the air, making my mouth water. The sounds of a preppy suburbia reached our ears: young kids playing basketball in their driveways and others running barefoot, catching fireflies in their backyards. The cooling wind ruffled the ripe, green leaves on every tree and comforted the asphalt and concrete, recovering from a sweltering, hot day. I sucked my teeth and shrugged at Devin.

“I don’t think he’s meant for that type of thrill. I honestly think he just needs to get laid,” I replied with a sigh, knowing how repulsed my mother was at how much weight he’d gained over the years. Devin scrunched her nose and cringed.

“Ew!” She shuddered and then sucked on her cigarette. Devin’s parents forced her to acknowledge them as sexual beings from an early age, and the shallowness she had developed was always amusing. Still, I wondered whether she was disgusted at the idea of my dad doing it or the idea of any man doing it.

However, the thought vaporized into thin air with the smoke as I looked to my left and saw our old middle school residing down the hill. I examined the building’s long length, short height, brick walls, large windows, small parking lot with faded paint, and black front doors with another shudder.

Clearly, Devin followed my gaze because I heard her giggle and felt her lightly elbow my left side. My tight black band t-shirt and the fishnet shirt lying underneath lifted slightly and allowed my pale belly to peek out. I quickly shoved the hems of both shirts back down where they belonged.

“Remember our first crime?” Devin asked with a smirk.

xxx

Exactly four years ago – eighth grade, gym class. I pictured thirteen year old me, with my natural dark-brown hair tied up in a lame ponytail at the top of my head with my physical education shirt and shorts on, squatting in front of a soccer-net, my small sneakers squeaking against the polished, wooden gym floors.

My foot length hadn’t quite caught up with my height, and I had a tendency to fall flat on my face. Therefore, when superstar athlete Wyatt Rosette kicked a soccer ball at my stomach, it literally knocked me off of my feet. The ball slipped out of my grip and rolled into the net as I hit the ground. The unanimous sound of loud laughter as well as the piercing sound of a whistle from my other classmates shocked my eardrums as I groaned in pain. I slowly sat up and in time to witness a little, bony, blonde girl flying at one of the boys in our class. My eyes widened as I heard screaming, cheering, and taunting echoing throughout the gym. Each punch provoked cringing and “ooooo” noises from bystanders.

Crunch, chew, crunch.

Our teacher had disappeared and I shook off my numbness, springing to my feet. I quickly ran over to the scene and pushed Devin off of the boy in fear that she might kill him. She fell to her right with an “umpf,” looking at me with wild and hypnotizing eyes. She was panting like a dog, her blonde hair falling out of her ponytail and hanging in front of her face, and her bloody hands trembling. Our attention gravitated to the moaning boy once again. His eyes were swollen shut, his nose broken, blood was pouring out of his nostrils and his teeth were stained red.

“Taylor said you were a fat loser,” Devin explained in a tone laced with fury. While I didn’t understand why she would go to these lengths for me… I felt strangely flattered. Her expression switched to worry, “You’re not mad at me, are you?”

I bit my lip and looked down at Taylor again, realizing that everyone around us had gone completely silent. Then I reared my arm back and punched Taylor in the gut as hard as I could. He spat blood all over his face, grey shirt, and the floor. He cried and shriveled up into fetal position, while I felt a strange sense of power.

“I’m not mad,” I replied. I tore my eyes away from Taylor to find Devin smirking at me for the first time. That’s when our teacher finally noticed a problem and emerged from her office to break up a fight that had already ended.

xxx

“Do you remember how much trouble we got into for that?” Devin asked cheerfully, letting her stumpy cigarette drop onto the sidewalk. She used her boot to squash it like a bug. I laughed while continuing to eat skittles like they were tic-tacs.

The sun had completely set now, and the moon, stars, and street lamps were the only sources of light for us. The insects came crawling out of their holes, making all kinds of sounds now that the humans crawled into their holes for the night. Meanwhile, Devin and I had circled around our entire neighborhood at least four times and our feet started to get tired, but we still didn’t want to go home. Instead, we stopped walking, stared up the sky, and remained silent for a moment.

“Can I ask you something?” I suddenly found myself asking. I could tell that Devin had lowered her head and turned to me as I continued staring above me.

“Shoot,” Devin replied.

“Do you think we’ll ever get caught?” I asked in a whisper, finally lowering my head and looked over at her. She went silent for a moment and her body went frigid even though the temperature had only dropped five degrees in the past hour.

“We just talked about this again a couple of months ago,” She answered coldly. That wasn’t a “no.” My heart plopped into my stomach with another skittle.

“I mean it’s only been a couple of years, what if they re-open the case?” I asked worriedly. Devin inhaled sharply and made a sudden move towards me, but then paused, shut her eyes, and balled her hands into fists. I could tell that she was desperately trying to control her anger, which only made me nervous. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly while I continued to chew on skittles. She reopened her blue eyes and set her jaw like she was about to lay down the law to me.

“Shawn, we had a reason,” Devin validated as calmly as she possibly could. I dumped the last of the skittles into my mouth, directly from the bag.

“We had a reason for every thrill, Dev, but we could have gone to jail for this one – we still could! And not the kind of jail where a child can pick up a parent, I’m talking about prison!” I cried right before Devin slapped a hand over my mouth and pushed me off of the sidewalk, backing me into a chain fence that was surrounding someone’s backyard. I winced at the loud, scraping metal sound and swallowed the last of my candy, trembling at the receiving end of Devin’s withering glare.

“Listen to me closely. We covered our tracks and it looked like an accident. They will not open the case back up unless one of us cracks before we graduate next year,” She recited to me for the thousandth time. I felt tears blur my vision as she slowly removed her hand from my face, my red lipstick smeared all over her palm.

“But did we have to kill her?” I asked in a whisper, feeling petrified.

“Yes. She was going to out us, remember?” Devin hissed angrily.

“So we HAD to murder her? Our best friend?” I asked, still trying to figure out where our train of thought went flying off the tracks, even after all these years.

“You thought it was thrilling,” Devin reminded me. I swallowed hard and searched Devin’s wild eyes again, remembering the joy ride that we took and hearing Blake’s futile screams in broad daylight as she face planted into a pile of dead, crunchy leaves in the middle of the woods when we repeatedly stabbed her in the back with Devin’s kitchen knives after counting to three. We buried the knives a few yards away from her body after she stopped breathing when we first heard the animals coming. I could hear them demolish her body as we sprinted back to the car.

Crunch, chew, crunch.

Dirt and mud splattered up the side of the car as Devin hit the gas and we took off with no witnesses. It was a simple hiking accident, that’s all it was.

“Okay.” I hauntingly whisper after at least thirty seconds of reliving the moment. Devin’s shoulders slumped and she sighed with relief, breathing heavy.

“Damn, stop doing that to me, I’m not into that type of thrill, dude,” She confessed. I took a deep breath and stared up at the stars again.

I’m not either.