Chapter 1

Norfolk, Virginia

1964

The room was quiet and somber. We sat on the floor wrapping our bloody knuckles up in bandages. My hands and wrists were sore from the fight, but it could have been a lot worse if Skimps wasn’t with me. We were both pretty good fighters, but when you put 6 guys against one, it ain’t too fair. I had a cut on my forehead, I could feel the blood dripping down the side of my face, I could taste it on my lips. Skimps was in about the same shape as I was, but his spirit wasn’t broken. I saw the glaze in his gray eyes has he re-ran the fight over and over in his head, probably thinking about the punches he landed and wondering how bad off the others were.

Skimps’ real name his henry, I’ve been best friends with him since we were three. Our moms were friends and went to each other’s houses to talk and dragged us around, we were the same age. I was really sarcastic as a kid, and gave skimps his nickname because 1.hernry was a dopey name and 2. He was thinner than a piece of hay, to which he promptly beat me up… and we’ve been friends ever since.

“Man I got the big one good, you think I broke his nose?” Skimps asked looking at me with a glint in his eye, he liked to fight.

“No, I’m surprised he didn’t break your nose.” I told him, Skimps has had exactly 4 broken noses. As a result the space between his eyes has a permanent pinkish tint to it like he’s sick, and he also has a pug nose, which I’m sure isn’t too good for a person.

“Shoot, if I broke my nose again, I probably wouldn’t even notice.” He cocked an eyebrow and gave a sideways smile. It made him look ridiculous with the pug nose and pink tint and he knew it, “You got any beer in the icebox?” he asked.

“Yeah, bottom shelf.” Skimps got up and went to the fridge, he drank, but not as bad as pop, who was out most of the day at a bar. Whenever Skimps gets completely wasted he sometimes mistakes me for a girl, and then hits on me. Once I went along with it, and he took me to a drug store and bought me a soda, I’m still not sure how I feel about that one.

We heard a car pull up into the drive way, pop was home, and most likely out of it. He was always like this when he comes home from a bar. After mom had died, he quit his job and spent his days at bars.

“Wonder who’s home.” Skimps said taking a gulp of his beer.

            The door swung open and pop came staggering in, the cool night breeze swept the scent of booze through the house.

“Hi Ren, hi Skimps.” He sort of stood there as if trying to remember how to walk. Pop used to be pretty good about taking care of himself, but that person was long gone. He shut the door and went to the fridge, “You two look like you went through a meat grinder.”

“Speak for yourself.” Skimps said smugly when pop looked at him, Skimps only cocked an eyebrow and gave a sideways smile. It made him look ridiculous but that was the point.

“When’s the last time you had something to eat?” pop asked, normally Skimps didn’t like it when people joked about his size but pop had pass. Skimps and I knew he was out of it when he was wasted.

“I’m on a strict seafood diet, every time I see food, I eat it.”

“Ha! You always were a mouthy one.” Pop said, he took the beer from Skimps’ hand and took a drink.

“That was mine.” Skimps mumbled as he watched pop drink it.

“So were you two in a fight?”

“Yeah pop.” I said.

“You got a little blood on your forehead, Ren.” He said.

“Yeah pop.” I mumbled, I wiped it off with the sleeve of my shirt.

“How many were there, 4?”

“6.” Skimps said proudly, he bragged about his fights whenever he could, and to whomever he could.

“I see none of them got to your nose.”

“Nope, only the wrong side of my fists.” He said cockily.

“What about you, Ren?” Pop asked taking another swig of his beer.

“They threw the first punch, at my face.”

“What do you kids do to get into so many fights?”

“We’re greasers they’re socs, they think that because they have more money than us, they have the right to jump us.” I’ve explained it many times to pop before, but it was always when he couldn’t remember ,so I just give him the shortened version, and he seems to understand it.

            Walking down the streets you’d hear people yell at you from their cars, “grease” or “hood” even if it is true, it doesn’t make you feel too great. Skimps and I are greasers, hoods, JD’S, but that’s only what they think. Sure I put grease in my hair and make trouble sometimes, but that’s only to keep an image up. I don’t know why, but it seems that if people keep calling you something you’re not, you’ll start to believe it yourself. Anyways, this place is split into 3 different groups, greasers, middle class, and socials (socs for short). Greasers are the black sheep of the city, the east side screw-ups, menace to society, you name it. Sure, some greasers are like that, nothing but stupid hoods, but a lot of the others have to work and quit school, we just get all the tough breaks. The socs are the west side rich kids, your future bankers and mayors. They don’t care what they do, as long as everyone else sees them as the good kids with their pictures in the paper for ‘cleaning up the city’ or some other BS. They throw beer blasts and don’t care about anyone but their own kind. Greasers and socs are enemies, we beat each other up and have rumbles, I’m not sure if life would always be this way, but I hope it changes.

“Ren?” pop asked, I snapped out of my day dream and looked at him.

“Yeah?”

“Shoot, you looked like a deer in the headlights.” Skimps said, he knew I had constant day dreams.

“Oh… Hey pop, can we borrow the truck?” I asked.

“Again? When was the last time you used it, last week?” he finished the rest of his drink.

“Actually, it was last month.”

“Oh, I guess, I’ll just borrow Jack’s car.” Jack being pop’s drinking buddy, they always go to the bar together, “You two going up to the woods again?”

“Yep.” I said, pop would never go up there anymore.

“Here.” He tossed me the keys and put the empty bottle down, “I’m going to bed.” And staggered to his bedroom and shut the door, after a couple of minutes I heard his snoring from his room.

“He’ll have a pretty good hangover in the morning.” Skimps said.

“Yeah, you want the bed or the couch?” I asked.

“I’ll take the couch.” Skimps said.

            Skimps had no family except for his aunt who, in her own words “didn’t want to take in a greasy hood like him”. His parents died in a car crash 3 years ago when Skimps was 14, it was either going to a boy’s home or to live with his aunt, neither of them were very good options. Luckily he has known me pretty much since birth. So whenever he was put into the home, he would sneak out and live at my house till he would be picked up by the cops again. It was an endless circle but he didn’t seem to mind, he liked being able to find a way out. Still, after a while the home would stop looking for him, knowing that eventually he would be picked up by the cops sooner or later, and then he would just get out after a few days. The only thing they did was give him a haircut. He’s 17 now, and only has a year to go before he gets tried as an adult with the cops. I don’t even want to think about what would happen if Skimps was put in prison.

“Ren!” Skimps was standing above me.

“Again?”

“Yep.”

“Sorry.” He helped me up.

“It’s okay, we’re all a bit cooky.” He gave me his signature side smile and cocked eyebrow, all I could do was smile, because Skimps was ridiculous.

“Good night.” He told me.

“Yeah, you too.” I said.

            I went to sleep thinking about how the greasers get all the tough breaks. Like when Skimps’ parents died and now he was living on a couch. Or when mom died, and pop quit his job and I had to drop out of school to help pay the bills. There were a tone of other kids I knew who had the same problems. Abusive parents, lived on the streets… yeah, the greasers had all the tough breaks. I was sure of it.

Author's Note

Please tell me what you think!

Reviews

[BBP]

I dig the story line and think it has a great opening to keep you interested. Will be reading more!

[barleygirl]

This appears to be primarily "set up" for your (presumably) longer story. You're showing us the characters, a little about their history, a glimpse into a current situation. I really enjoy your descriptions, mostly done with blunt observations & clear language. Overall, this could benefit from including more "action" (instead of mostly dialogue & expository) . . . especially at the end, to establish what's going to happen next, to draw us into reading the next chapter.

Once in awhile there are over-used expressions (see-food diet & deer in the headlights). This is not good to see, especially since it's clear you are capable of very fresh & original writing.

Once in awhile there's a long run-on sentence that needs to be punctuated into something more manageable to read:
"Skimps’ real name his henry, I’ve been best friends with him since we were three, our moms were friends and went to each other’s houses to talk and dragged us around, we were the same age."
. . .
"His parents died in a car crash 3 years ago when Skimps was 14, it was either going to a boy’s home or to live with his aunt, neither of them were very good options, luckily he has known me pretty much since birth, so whenever he was put into the home he would sneak out and live at my house till he would be picked up by the cops again."

But for the most part, you write with a good mix of simple & complex sentences. I notice you do "pure" dialogue" -- with no bits of expository, like "he said while picking his nose" -- ways to SHOW us more about your characters thru little glimpses all along the way. Then you give us a big block of expository to plow thru. Sometimes it can be better to mix it up a bit more, dialogue & expository blended.

These are my observations, but overall, this is solid writing, easy to follow & understand. Your storyline is vividly started to generate interest. Feel free to RR me when you've done more.

[matpat]

Thank you so much I'll be sure to work on that for my next chapter!