A\N: Me + sheer boredom = this story. Enjoy!
Walking home from Buck's place, I kicked a rock. Hot flames of anger and frustration were boiling up inside of me, and my hands formed into fists. I shoved my fists into my pockets and gritted my teeth.
I can't believe what Tim did. We were just about to kick those guys' asses, and he just tells me to shoo. Like, all of a sudden, I'm not a good asset to their fight. What the hell is that? If anything, I get better with each fight Tim and I get into. And Tim looks towards me for backup, right? That's how it's always been. But, for some reason, tonight was different.
The rock hit a crack in the sidewalk and bounced up into the grass on the side. It was dark, so I wasn't going to look at it. I kept walking.
I don't know why I listened to him. I could have just stayed and helped him fight. I could have helped him win, and proved him wrong. Sure, he had Buck on his side, but they needed me, I could tell. Those kids from the Brumly outfit had blades, and I remember Tim left his at home. Why the hell did he leave his at home? I couldn't remember the last time that my brother forgot his blade. Maybe he left it there on purpose. Hell, I didn't know anymore. I didn't know anything.
I reached down into my pocket for a cigarette, but all I found were two quarters and a lighter. I bluntly swore at myself that I didn't bring any with me. I left them with Tim.
As soon as the sound of switchblades was heard, Tim turned to me. Get out of here, Curly, he said, his eyes smoldering with anger. Go home. I'll be right back. It makes me think, why in the world didn't I protest? Why didn't I just say, "No, Tim, I came along to help you fight and I'm gonna help you fight"? Was I scared? I don't think so. I don't get scared as easily as I used to. And I loved to fight. It was getting close to be a hobby of mine. I didn't care if I hurt somebody.
I looked up, and found myself staring the moon right in the face. It looked back down at me, glowing, wondering. I looked away, down at my feet. It was too dark to see my feet, but I looked down there anyway.
I realized just then, that I've never disobeyed Tim. Never since I could remember. I hated myself for it, but what choice do I have? Tim scares the life out of me. He's bigger than me and stronger than me and he's a hell of a lot smarter than me. He's just overall better than me. I guess I respected him in a way, but he was just a huge asshole. That's why he got along with Dallas Winston. Tim was just the same, if not worse than that guy. They both got what they wanted, and for what reason, other than they intimidated people. Though I'd kill myself before I'd admit it in front of my brother, but I admired Tim for being so tuff. That last statement was vague because it's meant to be. I don't think there's been a time in my big brother's life where he's let down his guard. He's a smart guy like that. Hell, he's the smartest guy I know. He knows what's best, whether it be for the gang, Angela, or me. He seemed to know absolutely everything. And maybe that's why I listen to him all the time.
I turned the corner of where the broken streetlight was. I suddenly wished it was fixed. It was a windy autumn day and I didn't think to bring my jacket. For a split second, I wished that someone were here with me. Like Angela. Or maybe Curtis. Hell, Tim would be good company right about now. He had my cigarettes.
He was the true definition of a hood. Tim, I mean. He was rough, tough, hard-headed, stubborn, pushy, violent, street-smart, good with a blade, nonchalant, clever, and he had a lengthy criminal record. He taught me everything he knew and everyone said I was a spitting image of my big brother. I was downright proud of it. He was respected, he had a rep. I was getting one, too. And, even though Tim wouldn't say he was proud of me, I knew that he was. Tim's approval was something I craved.
I got to our driveway, and heard screaming from the inside. Girl voices. A fight between mom and Angela, but what was Angela doing home? I didn't care. I didn't fucking care. I sat out on the curb and waited for Tim to come home, even though he probably wouldn't end up coming home. I needed a cigarette pretty badly.
Looking out at the black, empty street, I realized what had happened back at Buck's place. Why Tim kicked me out when the blades were shown. Though I couldn't explain why, Tim must have gotten scared. For me. He must have thought I was going to get hurt. It made me dizzy at the thought, but there wasn't any explanation. That asshole left me out of the fight, but it was for my own safety. He's just so unpredictable.
And I loved him for it.