(For The Catcher in the Rye). Continuation from the line “That’s the kind of red hair he had”…

Old Allie was always on his bike. some things are hard to remember but he was always on that goddam thing. I mean I can’t remember exactly how it looked but I remember it was always stupidly white. It seemed if he wasn’t riding it he was bloody rinsing the off mud or putting it away. Maybe, when no one was looking, he‘d secretly take it out of that old, goddam rusty shed so he could put it away again. The thought killed me. I swear he did, don’t listen to me though; I’m a mad sunovabitch. He was very protective about it though. I never asked if I could use it, no one did, because you just knew he would say no. I liked Allie. He was one of those kids who would always say “Yeah, sure you can use it.” If someone asks me if they can use my stuff then, initially, I would probably tell them to eat horse manure or something. Though in the end I would probably let them use whatever the goddam thing it was that they wanted, I’m quite generous see. Anyway, I think the real reason you wouldn’t ask Allie to take his bike for a spin is you didn’t want to see him say no. It felt as if Allie said “no,” then the whole world would blow up and we’d all go to hell. Honest. Probably because he was such a nice kid. Anyway, there were these kids down the road who were always biking round in circles and shooting the crap. There was this one time where they ‘accidentally’ broke the big front window. It cost allot of dough to fix it. Dad went mental at them he had every right to. The bastards. Because of the little incident, they always passed our patch on the other side of the road and mouthed bad words at me. They did this all very dramatically. They ought to go in one of D.B.’s stories. They seemed to blame me for getting in trouble and all. Dad wouldn’t let me near them either. He told me that they weren’t even halfway decent. You know how it works, since I wasn’t allowed to go near them, I wanted like hell to. I wanted to show those morons with their big cheesy grins that I wasn’t just a little snitch. I’m over that kind of crap now though. Well, what happened one day is I sort of ‘borrowed’ Allie’s stupidly-white-bike, without asking him and sort of chased up those kids who broke our window. I tailed behind them for a little while and they kind of pretended to ignore me. It was funny. After a decade or two they saw me and made a wobbly semi-circle around me.” Hey snitch! What the hell do you want? Why don’t you put your big stupid nose someplace else!” He must have thought he was king of the goddam world. Pathetic. I could imagine myself getting off my bike and inverting their grubby little faces. Well, a second later we were at the top of the hill on our bikes facing down hill. We were racing. The other kids pushed off and a second later they shouted, “Go!” I overtook the lot of them quickly; I was flying like a crazy man. They’d all slow down for the corners while I just kept going faster and faster. The wind was rushing through my hair and howling in my ears. I’m not just mad, I’m crazy too, I swear it. It all happened in a flash. I don’t really remember what happened but I think I must have hit a goddam pothole or something. I flew like Phoebe on sugar head first into a bush. I wasn’t hurt bad but I liked to think I was; maybe I broke my leg or something? I looked for Allies bike, I saw it, well half of it anyway. I was overwhelmed with a feeling of lousiness. It was not so white anymore and I had snapped the goddam frame clean in half. I thought my eyes must have been kidding me. What would Allie think? To add to it all I heard a buzzing sound, getting louder and louder. It was the other kids. Then laughing. The little bastards were laughing at me. Damn did that kill me, but in a literal way. It was awkward getting the two halves home. I held one in each hand and sort of wheeled them along. I felt so lousy, not just personally but about how lousy it would make Allie feel, which would also make me even lousier. Anyway, Allie didn’t react the way I expected. I imagined him crying or screaming at me or some other horse manure. I’m not saying I didn’t respect him. I really did. What he did was just sort of stare at me. He didn’t cry, he just went all silent. He was overly mature about it all. I told him I was sorry for not asking, and for wrecking his bike all and he just said, “It’s fine.” That’s all he said though. I’m so goddam stupid. I’m always messing the good things up. Even if they put me in one of those goddam straight jackets I would still ruin everything. I’m a moron. Well, to make up for Allies kind forgiveness, Dad wasn’t too happy. I got a hammering that night. I have always been slightly uneasy or scared around my Dad. Once again, I don’t blame him for crap he did to me, I deserved it. I sort of felt less lousy after he punished me. It felt as if I’d done the time for my crime or something. I sort of enjoyed my beating. I’m a mad sunovabitch. So Allie was a great kid, I’ll never forget him. I never felt completely better after that incident. Maybe it would have been better if he let loose at me, rather than suppressing his emotions. He was very sad about it and all. He didn’t talk to me for a few days, not to rub it in but because he felt genuinely sore inside. Yeah, Allie was a very genuine person. The best person I’ve ever known so far. The best person ever.

By Ryan Taylor.

1073 words.