I'm the first to admit that we are not the most inconspicuous bunch of bananas out there, but I'm not a little bit worried that Aiden is gonna notice us tailing him all day, because he is a blue-haired asshole with the I.Q of a gnat drowning in a mug of coffee. The cup is empty, is just that it doesn't know it and drowns anyway, because he's dumb. And ugly. And he smells like butts.
"I don't know how effective this is going to be, brother," says Hayden, squatting next to me behind a bush in front of the 'Creedence Clearwater R.V Park" that Aiden calls a home. "I mean, I did say he was going down, but I thought it means we were going to talk to him and politely ask him to cut the shit out, not to stalk him to blackmail him."
The R.V park is the worst that Hill Valley Mountain Woods had to offer, and also the cheapest, since, for some reason, real estate here is crazy. Apparently, the founder of this fine city, one Athanasius Finch, once read in a magazine that property values gain extra value if they are in or adjacent to mountains, valleys, hills, or woods. As such, he tried to game the system by creating a town with astronomical property values, and if you're somehow a peasant without a million dollars to spare, you were shit out of luck. That might explain the statistically impossible number of millionaires in the school.
Nonetheless, this is where that douchebird goes to nest, which is why we are stalking him. As for why we are stalking him in the first place...
"We are not going to blackmail him," I say, looking at a particularly nice rock on the ground that kind of looks like Maya Rudolph. "That would be a crime, and we are not criminals. We are going to get evidence of his bad boy antics and report it to the school. If anything, we are whistle-blowers."
"no, that makes ya a snitch," says Brayden, standing next to us. While he is not tall enough to blow our cover, Jungkook and Harry are more than enough to blow our cover if it comes to that. Again, not particularly afraid of that, since Aiden has two neurons trying to play Solitaire as a two-player game. "and you know what snitches get."
"Stitches," says Harry with a snicker.
Brayden takes off his designer glasses while applying a dollop of sour cream on his nose, all the while looking only mildly annoyed. "no, they get a cap in their ass. ain't no snitch i've seen be alive long enough to get stitches."
"Sure, that's fine," I say, grabbing Maya the rock and tossing it into the air and catching it, sexily. "But can you please squat with us? I mean, there is obvious, and there is obvious, and you're kinda being both."
"hell naw, boyo. these are yeezys. i ain't gonna crinkle these bad boys by squatting into the seedy part of town. in fact, jungkook?"
"On it, boss," he says, tossing himself in front of Brayden, who proceeds to stand on top of him like a fleshy, slightly smelly rug.
Great, he's taller now.
As for Okayden, he's sitting on a lawn chair with a frilly pink umbrella while reading a book, covered in head to toe in a trenchcoat that makes me feel he might just be three chunky raccoons trying to pass as a goth. Of course, he's reading a book, not caring about anything.
"Still," says Hayden, scratching his clean chin, "can't help but feel we are blowing this out of proportion."
"heh, blowing."
"Warfare is not about thinking about blowing shit out of proportions, Hayden," I say, making sure to use his name as a way to show how totally super cereal I am. "It's about crushing your opponents, destroying their forces and their will to fight back. Then, and only then, will we win against him. Art of War, baby."
That seems to be more than enough for him to risk it and grab me by the shoulders, tacks and all. They say love hurts, but you know what hurts the most? PDA. "Brother, it was just a strike in a club that will be dissolved in a year. We are talking about potentially ruining a man's future, just because he disrespected some apples and a pair of shoes."
Maybe Hayden's right. I've met this man for a whole two chapters and I'm already plotting how to remove him from my life. Sure, he's a bad boy, but even bad boys listen to reason once in a while. Look at Brayden! I'm not even sure he even knows what the club is about, but he is here, being nice. Troublesome, but nice. I think I might be getting carried away because I'm not the new kid bad boy anymore and all my life I have identified with it, not always in a positive light, but as a contrast of what the gods made my hand to be for me to play. I am a bad boy, but I've always used that as a shield.
Maybe, just maybe, I'm lashing against him for my own lack of standing in this new world that my budding adulthood is thrusting me against. Maybe I am the asshole.
"bitch, those shoes cost me 30 bucks. plus shipping. plus shipping, hayden!" says Brayden while stomping his feet in a tantrum, maybe forgetting that the ground beneath his feet was 100% certified Henchman meat.
Nah, fuck it. I'm right, he's wrong, fuck him.
The whole convoluted discussion comes to a screeching halt with a single whistle from Okayden. I must add that he doesn't have any lips. "While you were talking,
Aiden left his R.V already,
He's down the street now."
Sure enough, he somehow slipped our vigilant sight and was longboarding down the street with a bottle of cranberry in one hand and a gen 2 iPod in the other hand. That dastardly fiend! Only dicks, pussies, and assholes drink cranberry juice! All cool people drink cranberry-apple juice. I'm sure he also uses Yahoo mail, that monster.
And yes, the only reason I can give you such details is that I'm using binoculars. Yes, they are tinted as well. You never know when someone will try and sneak a peek at your peepers. "Let's go, now!"
"Got it!" says Hayden, standing up and running towards his Dick-Mobile, just a few steps away from us. Yeah, I know it's dumb, but he didn't want to leave it around in case somebody steals it, as if the only thing that shit is worth is a few pennies in scrap and a shot of Fireball.
I get in to ride his monstrosity, beckoning the rest to come.
"nah, bro, i'm not gonna support big oil by getting into this diesel chugger. they only diesel i'm into is the vin variety," says Brayden. "i got a more organic transportation method. jungkook?"
"On it!" says Jungkook, grabbing Brayden from the mount of flesh and sitting him over his shoulders as if he were a toddler, or a topless girl in a county folk metal concert. Either way, he speeds off down the street — or as fast as a Korean meatball can run — with Harry trailing behind them.
"so long, fuck-os!" yells Brayden. You can practically hear him giving us the middle finger.
"Okayden, let's go!" I say, but he is nowhere to be found. No chair, no umbrella, nothing. Where the hell did he go? "Nevermind, punch it!"
And punch it he does. And slaps it, and pinches it, and pumps the break twice, all that jazz. Only to make the truck slowly chuggs to life like an old dog showing you it was still a puppy at heart. I said was because the puppy, just like the truck, fucking died.
"C'mon, baby, you know I love you," whispers. "You like it slow? Want me to put the key slowly? Just the tip? Talk to me babe."
I don't have time to mess with this. I plunge the damn key back in, give it a nice slap and turn the key. The engine purrs like a kitten with a hairball stuck in his throat, but purrs nonetheless.
"Hey! Careful with babe!" says Hayden while pulling into the street.
"Hayden, you have to learn that, sometimes, you gotta be a little rough in order to turn things on," I say. Always ask for consent before you do it, though! Remember: bad boys always ask for consent.
"Sometimes, you gotta be gentle," says Hayden. "Slow and steady wins the race."
"Yeah, we are not even winning against Jungkook, hit the gas."
He does it the gas, gently, with the strength one would use to pluck a petal from a rose.
"Hit it a little more, maybe," I say, but he shakes his head.
"We have to be inconspicuous," he says.
"We are in a war tank, trailing two egg heads and a brat. We are past that."
True enough, this is the world's worst Wacky Races knock-off. Brayden was already at least ten cars ahead, and Aiden was so far beyond that I can barely see him weave between the traffic and dip into a narrow alley. Shit.
"Well, that's that," says Hayden, slowing down, if that's even possible. "My Dick-Mobile won't fit into that tight hole."
"Tight hole my ass! We are gonna cut him off!" I yell. "Go around to the next street before he can get away!"
"Nu-uh, it ain't happening," says Hayden, now stopping at a stop sign. Oddly enough, Jungkook also stops here, jogging in place to keep the rhythm going. "He's long gone, bro. We can maybe try another thing, like talking to him?"
Okay, I think Hayden is trying to sabotage me here. All I want is for him to move this piece of junk from one side of the street to another. How hard can it be?
"You know what? Gimme that."
I make a small jump over him and try to push him away from the driver's seat. It goes as well as you can expect.
"What are you doing, brother?" asks a very confused Hayden.
"Ugh, forget it," I say. Why did I say ugh? Ugh. "Hold still. If you don't wanna help, I'll help myself."
I reach down, pulling the seat back enough for me to sit on Hayden's legs and use the car myself. Never driven a stick before. How does it go again?
"Jesus, this is one hard stick," I say while trying to put it on first.
"Uh, I mean, yes, a very, uh, hard stick," says Hayde, squirming under me. "Let me, you know, give you a hand."
He places his hand over mine and swiftly puts it on first. "There?"
"Thank you!" I say. "Now, let's roll!"
I plunge my feet as hard as I can on the gas, making the truck splutter forward, almost, but not quite, hacking up that furball. It gently rolls forward like a metal rolly-polly, but only if you don't listen to the engine chug-chugging away.
"Stop! You're gonna flood the engine!" he says, whatever that means.
"Then you better change gears as we go, 'cuz I ain stopping!"
And stop I don't. Not for traffic, not for old man Jenkins yelling at us, not for that firefly police cruiser waving as us fork the side. Nothing. I highjacked this car, and I do it masterfully.
Until, that. My bane, my nemesis: the red light, that nasty bitch. I don't have time to slow down for things like rules and regulations. We are bad boys, dammit! If I don't floor it, we lose Aiden, and I will embrace death before that.
The only way I can make it in time is if I go over the curb and maybe hit that homeless man's shopping cart in the way. Will I fall into my destructive bad boy behaviors and follow the Art of War into destroying anything in my path in a scorched earth approach? Or will I do what is right and stop my hate boner here? Turn in now as I plow through the homeless shopping cart. Sorry! Don't wanna be a dick!
"Brother, you have gone too far. This is inexcusable!" yells Hayden, killing the engine and slamming the break just before it hits the cart.
"What the shit, Wilson? It's just a cart!"
"It is somebody's property! Don't be cruel, Gomez!"
Oh shit, he used my last name. He's mad at me. But he doesn't understand me. We just lost Aiden!
Wait, is that Aiden cruising in front of us?
"Hey, there he is!" I say, pointing at him, as if it wasn't obvious who the only longboarding freak is.
"I can see that. Can we talk about what just happened?"
"No time for that," I say, jumping off him. "Look!"
Aiden stands outside a building, which, by the sign on top, is the city's homeless shelter. He looks left to right in a very suspicious way before putting on a ski mask and pulling his hoodie. Oh dip, he's gonna rob the homeless! That's even worse than I was going to do!
I swipe Hayden's phone and put it in camera mode. "C'mon, we gotta catch a bastard!"
Hayden says nothing, only following behind me. Brayden is here too but nobody cares about him. This story is about me, dammit!
I push the door open, filming the horrorshow of him, serving soup to the homeless?
"Yo, brahs!" he yells as soon as he sees us. Oh, so now he can see us? "You came to feed the less privileged, too?"
Wait, what? Are you fucking kidding me? Is that what he came to do?
"hey, what's with the mask?" ask Brayden.
"brah, you gotta be careful around the most immunodeficient citizens. Gotta feed 'em and take care of them! Join in! There are masks in the back."
Goddammit. The bad boy is an angel on Earth.
Hayden gives me an earnest smile before walking back, using a mask, and helping out in the kitchen. Even Jungkook and Harry pitch in. Brayden tries, but fails.
Just like me. I tried to ruin him over, and failed. Shit. I'll have to try a different approach.
Oddly enough, Okayden was already here when we got in. Wonder who invited him to enter.
This blows.