Sean's/Shariful's Story o.o

Sean Rahman             Peering On the edge

       Stepping his way across the teacher's desk, John walks out of class
with his SAT Prep paper. Looking carefully at the grade understanding
what it was. "HAHA!" John exclaimed in excitement! "I got a ninety-six!"
       "Sweet!" John said through out his hopping in the hall. "Hmmmmm, I
wonder what Dave and Judie go..." John says before stopping to turn to
his left.
       "Lets beat up this little SQUIRT!" Yelled Galverd the school bully.
Peeking into Galverd's arm, John noticed Dave his friend. "HEY! LET GO
OF HIM!" John yelled.
"John! Save yourself," Dave said.

"Oh yeah other... SQUIRT? What are you going to do about it?" Galverd
asked knowing John couldn't actually do anything about it.
"I'll make my dad fire your dad from he Hotel!" John Threatened. "He's
your dad's boss!"
"Wooaahaoohaaaooo! You wouldn't do that!" Galverd said cautiously.
"Try me," John said with a glare in his eyes.
       As Galverd let go, Dave squirreled out of the hold he'd been and...
"Thanks John! Your dad's the boss in the hotel?" Dave asked.
       "No. But Galverd doesn't know that," John answered hastily. "Look! I
got a ninety-six on my Pre SAT test! My that'll shut up my dad!"
       "Gahhh! All you f**king care about is your dad and your freaking
grades. But you never give a damn about how happy I get with mine! Your
so smart huh? Take that smart and shove it UP YOUR A**" Dave screamed
and left leaving a sad look on John's face. "Man Dave smelt bad like
Galverd's arm pit, and... What did I do? I never thought Dave felt like
that. Maybe I am always yapping about how good my grades are,"

                                       Scene 3
       "Dad! Dad!" John comes home yelling with an encouraged face. "Dad,
look! I got a ninety-six on my Prep exam! Isn't that great?" John asks
calming and gasping for air. "What is this? Not a hundred? Do you want
me to be happy with this? You didn't get a hundred," John's father said
disgraced with the high but not enough high grade.
       "What? But, Dad! It's a high grade. I'll be able to get into any
school with this. Dad!" John yells tearing up.
       "You Better get ready John! You'll be going to Yakima if you don't get
into Harvard! Top school or Yakima!"
       "Harvard is the hardest school."
       "You are my son! I don't care if it's the hardest school to get into!
You don't get your little petty a** In that school, I will send it to
Yakima," John's father demanded and walked away.
       "But, Daaaaddd...."

                               Scene 4
2 months after John had taken the SAT's. Pressure was on his case.
Today was when John was getting the results. Normally he would be
excited. But, for the last month, his father had been repeating the
same words over and over. "GET READY JOHN! Your going to Yakima! You
don't do Good! Your gone!" His father would say.  And now he couldn't
face the pressure. He couldn't face his dad In the eyes. He was going
to leave. TrailsBurg Train Station. It would take him to Arizona.
       "JOHN! JOHN! DON'T GO JOHN! DON'T LEAVE! JOHN! JOHN!" a familiar voice
ringed in John's ears. Soon enough, John's savior stood on the other
side of the platform, Judie. "John! You don't know what your Doing
John!" Yelled Judie panting steadily yet heavily. "Don't leave John!"
       "How'd you Find me Judie," John asked teary eye'd.
       "I came to your house waiting for the mail. Your dad said u went
somewhere. I though you were here because we hanged out here when we
were kids!" Answered Judie trying to act convincing.
       "Go Home Judie"
       "Nooo! John just get out of there! Don't go to Arizona. What'll you do
there?"
       "I don't Know! I never knew. But I have to do something! Something
away from here! I don't like it here!"
       "Please, God Oh God! John Don't jump John don't Jump. You have a
loving family here! Your Dad, Your Dad Loves you John!"
       "SHUT UP! He Never Loved me! He never did! And He never will. All he
wants is high scores. He never cared how I felt. How I wanted to make
him proud or how I just was under too much pressure!"
       "John No! You have friends here! Your my best friend John! And so is
Dave!"
       "Dave hates me. I hurt him, bad. He wouldn't care if I was here or
not! It's not like I was nice to him!"
       The train started arriving.
       At John's House: "Honey the mail is here. Ahhhh! Here is John's
results!" As John's father opens the envelope, his heart fills with
blood and his brain with adrenaline. "Honey! My Boy's going Harvard!
He's Going to Harvard! My Son's Going to HARVARD! QUICKLY HONEY CALL
HIM UP! HE'LL BE SOOO HAPPY!"
       TrailsBurg Train Station:
 "I'm not going to Arizona Judie," John finally said
       "THEN COME OVER HERE!" Judie yelled stressed out.
       "But, I'm not staying here Either,"
       "What?" Judie wondered. As the train came over closer and closer,
Judie noticed what John was going to do.
       "JOHN! WA...." John jumps in front of the train as Judie Shouts. The
train driver brakes but it's too late. He's been hit.

                               Scene 5
10:48 March 18th: John Glocavoich's death.

       "Whyy.... Why did he do it? I was a terrible father," cryed John's
father. Ejhad Glocavoich. Here in Allhegany Jail, sobbed John's father
regretting  Putting so much pressure on his son.
       "DamnIT! Why the F**k did he do it? He was my best friend. I got angry
at him once and I kept it like that. I should've said something,"
Sobbed David Remembering the fight he had with John.
       "I miss you John, I miss you soooo much. Who's going to help me with
my homework? Who's going to tell me I look pretty even thought I always
think I'm not. Why did you do it?" Wondered Judie. Crying away on her
couch. Just wondering why her best friend suicide. She knew why but she
didn't want to believe it.


DIFFERENTSTORYDIFFERENTSTORYDIFFERENTSTORY


Note: The first page is on looseleaf, so this is a continuation.

Untitled

Draft 1 (continued)

His name was Antonio Sanchez: drug dealer extraordinaire. James began to walk towards the man – all standard procedure, he reminded himself as he saw Antonio tense as he neared. His shoulder smacked against Antonio's, and despite the fact that he had done this hundred times previously, his heart raced – what if this time, Antonio grew angry with him? After all, the man was not known for his patience or his agreeable persona (what a joke!).

As his shoulder hit Antonio's, James quickly reached for his pocket and grasped the money that he had once again stolen from his mother this morning. He pressed the bills against Antonio's hand, and in return, a bluish-golden box was pushed into his palm. This took about two seconds, and in those two seconds, neither of the males had looked at each other once.

Standard procedure...

The two walked past each other, neither looking like they had once again contributed the growing problem that teens faced in the United States. Antonio's face was blank, as usual, his eyes showing nothing – just darkness, which sucked you in like the dealings of the Underworld would. James's face was barely held together, fear pounding through his veins – something might go wrong, something might go wrong – but in the end, they both reached the outer exits and left the park.

It was exactly 8:08 AM.

* * *

Outside the park, James nearly collapsed onto the ground in fear. His legs were trembling, his skin a pasty white. He had done this hundreds of times – literally – and yet, Antonio could strike fear into him every time. After all, there were stories of boys, just like him, who had screwed up. They had dropped the box, and been shot. They had angered Antonio, and they had been brutally tortured before being killed. Antonio was ruthless, and would not stop at anything to prove that he was the biggest dog on the block.

He stared at the box at his hands, wondering how such a small thing could cause so much pain in his life. The box was about four inches high, and three inches wide, and it looked like a cigarette box – in fact, it was modeled after one. The title on the front boldly declared it to be 'Funk Master Jo's Power Boost' – which was Antonio's product's name for this project.

He opened the lid of the box shakily, and peered inside – yes, just what he needed! A few more hours, and he might have been dead. The box contained two things – a small syringe, and pill bottle with the words 'NO 45' on it. He quickly looked on either side of him – no one was here! - he could easily inject the syringe in now and go to school, it would be a lot simpler than finding an alley or dark place.

“And here we go again...” he muttered wistfully as he raised the syringe, pouring a bit of the contents of NO 45 into it before plunging it into his skin. Pain flared for a few seconds, but it quickly subsided and all that was left was an eerie sort of calmness, a calmness that could only be achieved through the wisdom of old age, though there was none to be seen here. A sigh escaped his lips, as his eyes blanked out, as if he was seeing something no one else could.

The syringe fell out of his grasp and clattered to the floor, but it was ignored by the boy who stared dreamily in front of him, his mouth twisted into a gruesome copy of a smile.

Why are you doing this to yourself?

James ignored his self-doubt, his weakness; his mind too caught up in imagining a land where his parents cared and his girlfriend wasn't a total !%@#&. His conscious continued to speak to him, continued to bug him, but all James could see was a 'what could have been.'

* * *

Ten minutes later, James's eyes finally began to clear up, and he saw that he hadn't been disturbed in his few minutes of peace and tranquility. Despite that, he knew he wouldn't be drugging himself in public anytime soon – it was far too dangerous, and he had only done it this time because he was desperate and needy.

Then again, James thought wearily, he always was.

Rising, he dusted his pants and glanced at a puddle in the middle of the street – he looked as terrible as always, his eyes bloodshot and red. He dumped the box, along with it's contents, into his bag and hurried off, knowing that once again, he was going to be late again.

Just another day in the life of James Brown.

* * *

James was tired.

Extremely tired. His head had begun to hurt at around twelve, and now, at one, his head felt like it was being split apart. His teeth were gritted and his fists were clenched as he attempted to keep his pain under control. He had had to go to the bathroom three times this day to throw up in the toilet, and once, he had seen actual blood in his vomit.

Something was going on, but James didn't know what – and that scared him. Scared him more than he would ever admit.

His heart pounded against his rib cage, his fingers turning white.

It was happening again.

His eyes turned redder, and he gasped for air slightly. Pushing past the other students, he rushed into the bathroom, throwing open a stall door before he stood over the toilet, vomit spilling out of his mouth along with blood, food and lots of other disgusting things. He put a hand against the side of the bathroom stall, trying to steady himself – but it was no use. He broke out into a coughing fit, blood splattering against the floor with a sickening plop! His blood, coupled with the vomit and some vegetables he had eaten earlier, landed against the floor as a yellowish-red and green color.

Gasping for air, he felt quite sick – nice going, Captain Obvious, he thought to himself sarcastically – and before he knew it, another round of vomit had come up, except this time, all he could do was dry-heave into the toilet, which felt almost worse than actually vomiting.

What's going on?

He left the bathroom, his skin pale and his face ashen-white. Things were not looking good for him, and unfortunately for him, they would only get much worse.

He went back to the lunchroom, planning to rest his eyes for a little bit before the next subject, only to watch, horrified, from a distance as Amanda – one of his friends – reached into his bag, laughing, most likely looking for a pen or pencil.

Instead, she pulled out a box of 'Funk Master Jo's Power Boost.'

!#@$! he thought desperately. He was too far from the table to do anything, and he could only watch as his friends stared at the contents of the box in horrified fascination. He slumped to the ground, defeated – is this what payback feels like, God? - and felt his hackles rise as his friends called over a teacher, showing him the heroin that he had bought. What gave them the right to look into his bag? What gave them the right to pry into his personal life and tell the teacher a secret that he had been hiding successfully for years?

Those son of a...

He stomped angrily towards them, but before he could, a pair of strong arms gripped him and a voice whispered into his ear:

“The Principal would like to see you, Mr. Brown.”

A bit of fear crept into his heart. Was this the end of him? Without the drugs... well, he wouldn't be able to live. He had grown so dependent on his use of them, it would be better for him to die than to be without his heroin.

He was dragged off without resistance though. Resistance just made everything ten times worse. And it's now, that James's life takes another sharp turn on an already worn-down mountain path.

Except this time, the sharp turn leads him right off the edge of the cliff.

* * *

“...disorderly conduct, inappropriate behavior during class, possession of illegal items and substances inside school property, and disrespect for authority.”

His parents stared at him, disappointment evident in their eyes, and James glared defiantly back. They were the ones that had led him to this path. Not himself, but THEM. They had been the ones to always ignore him, in favor of the television and the new computer that Microsoft had just released – Windows 3.0, if he remembered correctly. Not that that information would do him any good now.

“Mr. Brown, have you anything to say for yourself?” the Principal stared at him with piercing eyes, but James just glared at him, never liking to be looked down upon.

He started to give a smart reply, but then, the coughing began again.

Except this time, the coughing fit didn't end in five seconds. Instead, the other occupants of the room could only watch in horror as he spat out blood. He rose to his feet, trying to get to the bathroom, but instead, he stumbled and fell to his knees, his chest aching with pain.

He tried to make sense of everything – but everything was a blur. Everyone was screaming, there was lots of shouting, and James could faintly hear the sound of his mother's horrified sobbing. The room spun, whirling around him like a whirlwind.

And then, everything went black.

Once when you're in the business, you can't get out.