Nineteen Eighties
Alright yo! I’ve been watching way too many Degrassi reruns and I’m feeling quite “retro”. This is the eighties, jeans, grease monkeys, and BIG hair… enjoy. Most of this stuff is also written from what I remember of the 80’s or more exactly, what I can remember of the 80’s. For some reason I don’t remember a lot of it… I know I was there; I had big hair and wore those forsaken slouch socks and plastic bangle bracelets. Sorry about the short scenes but if its not that way, it’ll turn into an everlasting epic fic and god knows I don’t have the time or the patience to write one of those. No Duran Duran.
He sat up from the relaxed position he held on the rough cement and stone scattered ground that connected with the brick side of the building. A shadow caught his attention by grazing across his feet sumptuously slow. He flicked the ashes from his cigarettes and raised a nicely curved brown eyebrow. “What brings you to these parts of the school yard Winner? I thought you rich-kid brainiacs stayed in the school at all times, even during your spares.”
A youthful blond boy crossed his arms defiantly at the smoking student, “Duo, you were supposed to show up ten minutes ago in the library for our tutoring session.”
Not taking any notice to the irritated lilt in the way the blond addressed him, he shrugged idly. “Was that really ten minutes ago? I thought it was before lunch.” He spat out the gathering saliva in his mouth and licked his lips. “I must be slipping.”
The blond tutor raked his fingers through his hair in a manner of hopelessness. “Damnit! You have so much potential! Why don’t you at least try to do something useful with your life?”
Duo took a quick drag and flicked a rock with his other hand while blowing the smoke back out through his lips slowly. He hung his head low momentarily before raising his eyes to meet the aqua ones glaring down at him. “Geez Mother. Who gave you the right to speech me?” Clicking the heels of his cowboy boots onto the ground, he vaulted himself up while dusting the rear of his faded black jeans. “Besides, I do very useful things.”
“Like what exactly?”
Brushing more dust off his lower calves, “I’m gonna be a mechanic. As it is I get A’s in shop.”
“You can’t be a grease monkey for the rest of your life. If you didn’t have Mr. Jenkins as your teacher…”
Duo cut him off by poking his chest roughly with the tip of his forefinger “What about Howard?”
The blond swatted the offending hand away. “He’s just soft on you. That’s all. He doesn’t care about daily attendance or punctuality.” He paused to sigh while looking up to the clouds as if they had the answers. “It’s the eighties, and statistically, you don’t have a change in hell to make it as a renowned mechanic in this city. As it is there’s a new shop opening up every year from graduating students and every year there’s one that goes out of business. I just wish you’d put your mechanical ingenuity to better use like with physics or math. Who knows? You could be an astronaut!”
Clenching his lower jaw straight and shut, he rolled his eyes and clapped his hands dramatically. “Woo Quatre. You’d be one rad motivational speaker dude. I was almost moved by that touching speech.” He bent down to pluck his ripped jean jacket off the ground and flung it over his shoulder and flicked his cigarette butt with force, making it spark as it hit the cement. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a tranny [1] to install.”
~*~*~*~
The large steel door slammed into its frame with a loud bang. A long braid whizzed around the spacious varsol smelling garage, big enough to fit 15 cars side by side, any mechanic’s dream. The body attached to the braid halted abruptly when he reached the lifts and spied two long legs underneath a 1976 ‘Stang.
“Yo Trowa!” the brown haired youth was clearly on edge and tapped his foot impatiently to be noticed.
No reply came and the legs didn’t even appear to move. “What the fuck are you doing under there? No matter how much love you give her man, she’ll never blow ya!”
Duo’s rude remarks elicited a few snickers from various little corners of the room where pimply teenage boys were either oogling their latest issues of Penthouse or trying to weld something together. However, there was still no reaction from the boy under the car.
Ready to kill, Duo ducked his head and crouched his way to classmate. “Dick Wad! I’m talking to you!” He all but punched his friend in the arm that was raised well above their heads.
“Pass the WD40.”
He bent down calmly and grabbed the can, tossing it up to an outstretched hand that caught it with ease, and then grabbed a rag to sop up any excess oil that dripped down.
“Now, what’s your problem? Are you deaf?”
The legs gained a torso and a head as Trowa craned his head down to wipe the sweat from his brow, replacing it with black grease. “Sorry but this baby’s momma doesn’t seem to know the meaning of the oil light. Lucky thing the old man saw it and brought it here.” He crouched his way out from under the lift with Duo in tow.
“What a waste!” Duo patted the deep burgundy side panel affectionately to which Trowa nodded.
“Coulda been…”
“… But anyways”, the shorter teen cut the phrase off bluntly, “you have to call off Quatre. That’s the third time this week I get speeched by him ya know.” The hairs on his back started to rise and his fists curled into balls, his temper flaring. “I really HATE it when people tell me what I should do with my life.”
“I’m not Quatre’s keeper.”
“Do I look like I give a shit? You’re his best friend or something; tell him to lay off will ya?” Duo’s voice shook as it got louder with every word.
Trowa looked at him indifferently and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “He just cares.”
“Well can ya tell him to stop caring? I’ve never been friends with the guy and just all of a sudden you two are hanging out all the time and I’ve somehow gained a tutor. I don’t need a tutor.”
They walked to the dingy gray lockers that lined the back wall of the makeshift shop class, Trowa peeling the greasy coveralls off himself. He folded it neatly taking special attention to avoid getting any machine oil on his hands.
“I’ll try to tell him to lay off but I can’t guarantee anything.”
“Fine by me.” Duo pulled out his pack of smokes and pointed to the doors at the back, “Care to join me?”
Trowa shook his head. “That shit will kill you.”
“So? Not like the poisonous air we breathe everyday won’t! I’ve seen you standing in the pouring acid rain [2], now THAT shit will kill you.”
The taller brunette pulled his back pack out of his locker and slung it over his shoulder. “Whatever. I’m supposed to meet the exchange students with Quatre in a couple of minutes anyways.”
Duo shrugged and joined him for his little tour down the hallways of E.G.M. High [3], the navy blue painted walls giving an air of solemn doom as students sauntered around them in no rush to get to their next classes. The auditorium was approaching with the throngs of curious classmen from all levels were hoarding to catch a glimpse of the newcomers. A tuft of shimmery light blond hair bobbed up and down in poor attempt to control the crowd and pleading to continue onto their classes, he caught sight of Trowa and flagged him over. “They’re not even here yet!!” Quatre let out a muffled shout to the students that hovered around him.
Trowa shoved his way through the gathered kids with Duo following closely behind giving off sneers and lewd gestures. Disgusted with the intruders, most of the students retreated to their classrooms gossiping all the way and grumbling stuff about grease monkey losers.
Quatre, nearly ecstatic, grinned wildly at their presence. “I’m so glad you remembered to come Trowa! It seems That Mr. Khushrenada can’t make it to the airport and we need somebody to go pick up the new foreign kids.” He paused and his face fell into a frown, “poor guys stranded in a strange land and stuck at an airport no less.”
“And what do you expect him to do about it?” Duo cut in.
Turning to address both boys, Quatre twiddled his thumbs nervously. “It would be great if you can pick them up.”
Trowa raised and eyebrow and Duo groaned. “But we’ve only got pick-up trucks [4]… 3 people max unless somebody wants to sit in the box.”
“That’s where you come in Duo, you see, if one of them can go with you, the other can ride with Trowa and I.”
“Why can’t Trowa just pick up both of them at the same time?”
“Because they are staying at my place and I’m the only one who knows how to speak Japanese and Mandarin. It wouldn’t make much sense for Trowa to just show up and not be able to address them or anything. It would be proper if I went so we can get acquainted…”
“… So you’re telling me that Trowa’s going to lose his best friend for a little while.” He elbowed the tall Latino in the gut.
Quatre blushed.
“Wonderful!” He continued with a devious glint in his eye. “Maybe we could get back to restoring Dad’s ’57 Chevy. The thing has been sitting there in my shop rusting away while I keep getting ragged on by the old man to do something with it.”
Trowa and Quatre exchanged a few oblivious glances and shrugged, letting Duo go on with a nice little tirade about his father’s old truck until a punk looking girl walked straight into his back while drumming on her safety pinned lap. Without even turning around, and judging from the looks his friends had plastered on his face, Duo knew exactly who it could possibly be.
“Hil…” he was cut off by an arm slicing its way around his neck and he was caught in a death grip.
“It’s the sleeper hold” she said with a wink to Quatre. “Saw Hulk Hogan do it Saturday morning and I’ve been dying to try it since then!”
[Impromptu audience laughter and applause]
“Hi… Hiiii….. Hiiiiiiii….” Duo managed to squeak out while trying to wriggle his way from the black leathered arm wrapped tightly around his neck and pressing into his windpipe.
“Um, Hilde?”
“Yuh huh?”
Quatre walked over to Duo and poked his face lightly. “He’s turning blue, and I think he’s stopped breathing.”
She relaxed the hold for a second so she could get a better look at his face. “You sure?”
Trowa, Quatre, and Duo (as well as he could) nodded. She let go abruptly and stood a few paces back to allow the choking boy some breathing room. “You mad Duo?”
He gasped, gulped, wheezed, coughed, and sneezed in no particular order as his face went from a lovely shade of blue to match the paint of the school’s interior to a nice bright red, his expression ready to kill. “Mad? Me? No. But just for that, I may inform your little brother about your extra curricular activities. I’m sure Ian wouldn’t mind telling your mom for black mail purposes.” He rubbed his neck gently, feeling where the leather of Hilde’s jacket pinched his skin.
“You wouldn’t….”
“Damn straight I would!”
They bunted foreheads, readying for a duel of wits when Quatre tapped Duo on the shoulder politely and calmly reminded him that there are two foreign students waiting for them at the airport. The longhaired boy turned sharply and glared down at the cowering blonde. “And what makes you think I’m going to help you? You annoy the shit out of me.”
Trowa sighed loudly. “Because we need the extra ride.” He paused for a moment, “He’ll pay you ten bucks.”
[Quatre flailing arms] “WHAT?!”
[Duo high-fiving Hilde] “Score!”
[Hilde superhero poses] “To the car-hold boys!”
[All] “Car-hold?!