☆Blaze☽

Chapter 1:

The five of us sat on the bridge in the moonlight, a cigarette hanging from every lip but mine.

"Come on, Elliot. Just have a drag." I shook my head at Whiskey's offer; I didn't want to develop an addiction anytime soon.

"Elliot. I don't like it. We need to give him a cool nickname." Beatle had drawled out my name like it was a foreign word. He was basically the leader of this group of misfits.

"What are your real names?" I asked curiously, but Mi only laughed, exhaling smoke into my face. I tried not to breathe it in. I knew second hand smoke was worse than first hand, but it was pretty impossible not too as I was surrounded by four smoking teenaged boys.

"That, dear Elliot, would be telling." Beatle laughed as he made rings with the smoke like an expert.

"How 'bout we just call him Lee?" Trick suggested, but they all shook their heads at that. Trick looked slightly older than the rest of us, with a sleeve of tattoos over his mocha skin. I couldn't even think about the getting a tattoo without a shiver running down my spine at the thought of all that pain.

"How 'bout we just give him the most stupid name we can think of?" Mi imitated Trick's voice, and the other two guys snickered. I liked Lee. What was wrong with Lee? If they thought Lee was stupid, suggesting El would just be ridiculous.

"Mm! How 'bout Lake? Like Elliot Lake? That's a badass name." Whiskey flicked his cigarette into the water before taking another drag.

"Lake. I like it," Beatle said thoughtfully and nodded, the executive decision of the group. They continued to smoke, and though it burned my eyes, I was sure I saw another group of guys coming towards us.

"I think there's someone coming."

"You're just too paranoid, Lake. You know what you need? Weed. And God knows we have plenty of that." Mi blew it off like it was nothing, but I was sure I could see people.

Beatle pushed the black fringe from his eyes, revealing their light green colour, like a peridot. You could see the defined muscles in his arm when he reached up. He dropped his cigarette and stomped it into the bridge, following my gaze forward.

"Hey, looks like Lake was right. We've got visitors." The rest of the boys put out their cigs and set their eyes forward at the possible opponents. They were big, and looked tough. The boys jumped off where they were seated -the guardrails of the bridge- and sized up the guys, similar to what I was doing.

"I'm not feeling a fight, Beatle. Can we just leave?" I tried to make it sound as much like I didn't want to fight tonight opposed to I didn't want to fight ever, even though the latter was definitely more truthful.

Beatle rolled his peridot orbs at me and snorted. "Remind me again, who wanted Lake to join our group?"

"He's the only one that doesn't look sketchy," Trick concluded, and I agreed. I wouldn't say the others looked sketchy, but they definitely had a reputation, especially with the school administration. I had a clean record, good grades, amazing recommendations from teachers. I just wished that could have been enough.

"I think there's only four of them, so you might be lucky tonight, Lake," Mi informed me as the guys were in a scarily close proximity to us. I already knew there were only four of them; I was wearing my glasses. None of the other guys wore glasses, despite the fact most of them didn't have 20/20 vision with the exception of Beatle. I was pretty sure Whisky wore coloured contacts, though I think he would sooner get gang beat than admit to it. The light brown shade of his eyes was so uniform, and it contrasted with his strawberry blond hair.

"Someone obviously didn't tell you losers this is our bridge!" The group of guys was now only feet from us, and the largest one yelled at us. He had tattoos on every inch of skin I could see, save for his face. He cracked his knuckles threateningly and at this point even I rolled my eyes.

"Someone obviously never took law, because unless you own government property and pay taxes on it, it's not your fucking bridge,"nI said dully while the guy stared at me like I was delusional, and I could tell Trick was doing everything in his power not to knock me upside the head.

"I'm going to have fun pounding your glasses into your face." He smirked at me and I stepped back so I was standing behind the other guys. Call me a coward, but a) these were Ray Bans, they are expensive and b) I wanted my body to recognizable when I died.

"I'll give you 10 seconds to get off this bridge before-" He never got to finish his threat, because Beatle punched him right in the face. The guy stumbled backwards a few paces before coming after Beatle, and the three guys standing behind him tried to aid him in beating the shit out of Beatle, but Trick, Mi, and Whiskey pulled them off of him while I stood there dumbfounded and misplaced.

Whiskey took a few hard punches to the face, and Mi took a particularly painful looking one to the gut, but I would say that they were definitely kicking butt. I looked over at Beatle and noticed how concentrated his face was, the way the vein in his neck stuck out and the muscles in his arms as he punched and blocked and-

Stop it, Elliot. You finally are part of something; don't ruin it by developing a stupid crush.

I looked over and noticed that Trick was pretty much getting his ass handed to him, and I contemplated stepping in. I was pretty useless when it came to fighting, or anything other than letting people copy my homework.

I grabbed the collar of the guy's shirt and pulled him off Trick, who gave me a look that was a mixture of thankfulness and embarrassment. When four-eyes was helping you out you know you fucked up. I wasn't the least bit scared; I totally had this guy handled.

At least that was what I thought in the seconds before there was a sharp pain in my head and I was knocked unconscious.

When my eyes finally decided to open again, I noticed I was lying on a carpeted floor. I tried to sit up quickly, but ended up clutching my head in pain.

"Here." A bottle of aspirin was thrust at my chest and I looked up to see Beatle dressing the wounds on his knuckles.

"Thanks." I took out two and swallowed them quickly, trying to avoid the bitter taste of the medication.

"Is this your room?" I looked around, and it didn't really look like a room I would have pinned down as Beatle's. There were band posters all over the room, a guitar in the corner that seemed to be collecting dust, a wide bed, a sliding closet door with a mirror on it, a large desk, and a bookcase. The books were probably full of drugs though. His room wasn't a dark colour like I would've expected it to be, it was a pale blue.

"Yup." He flung the gauze back onto his dressing, ignoring the fact it rolled off and onto the floor, partly unravelling.

My eyes focused on the poster in front of me. It was The Beatles. Abbey Road.

"Is that why they call you Beatle?" I asked, gesturing to the poster. He shook his head and I looked at him with confusion.

"My first name is Lennon."

"Lennon. Like, John Lennon?"

"No, like Bartholomew Lennon," Beatle replied sarcastically and I flipped him off. I had only known the group for six months. That's how long it took them to trust me enough to let me in on the dealing.

"How'd I get here?" I asked clutching the plush carpet underneath me.

"I dragged you here after you managed to get yourself knocked out."

"Where'd Trick, Whisky and Mi go?"

"Home, it's like 2 am."

"What?" I looked around to the window, and it was completely dark outside. I hadn't noticed because all the lights were on in Beatle's room. I was kind of hoping I had been out for hours and it was morning now, but it seemed to be only thirty minutes.

"Why are you still awake?"

"Because there was some idiot that got himself knocked out on my floor and I had to make sure he wasn't dead." Beatle rolled his eyes at me, but I think I saw a hint of a smile.

I stood up off the floor, my shoulders and back stiff. I stretched and they let out a series of cracks that caused me to wince.

"Your floor's not very comfy."

"You're not very good company."

"Lucky for you, I'm just leaving." He snorted and fell back onto his queen sized bed, rubbing his most likely bruised knuckles through the gauze.

"How do you suppose you're going to do that? I'm not driving you home at two in the morning."

"I'll take a bus."

"Yes, because the magical buses start before 5 am. I forgot." He waved his hands around while fluttering his fingers when he said he word magical. I rolled my eyes at him and walked over to the mirror hanging over his dresser. I wasn't surprised that my face looked fine; I didn't remember taking a punch to the face. I slid my hand down the back of my head and groaned when I found the large lump that had already formed.

"Yay, sleepover," I drawled out sarcastically as I turned back to Beatle.

"If you think this is fun, you can't imagine how much I enjoy your company."

"I'm pretending I didn't just hear that. Everyone loves me." I shot my hand through my dirty blond hair as soon as I felt a loose strand fall into my eyes.

I had never spent any time with Beatle alone; the guys were kind of a package deal. They had only started talking to me in the first place because I had the top English mark, and they needed some help. And now we were skipping classes together -and doing other forbidden things that could definitely land our asses in juvy.

Even knowing his name was Lennon, it didn't even pass my mind to ever call him that. He was Beatle. That's what everyone called him, even his teachers. That was just their sad attempts to get him to pay attention and actually learn something. That would never happen though, Beatle was a free spirit.

"What are the other guys' names?" I asked him; leaning against his dresser while he sat up on his bed.

"Mi, Whisky, and Trick," he said with a smirk and lay down so he was looking up at his ceiling.

"Their real names, you ass. You all know mine." He thought for a moment, his green eyes scanning the ceiling, before he decided that I was allowed to know their names.

"Trick's name is Patrick, Mi's name is Miles, and Whiskey's name..." He stopped and I looked at him with confusion. I understood how they got Trick and Mi, but where the hell did Whisky come from?

"Whiskey's name is...?" I continued and he huffed, looking away and fiddling with his fingers. His black fringe was staring to fall in front of his eyes, but he ignored it.

"He's going to kill me. You don't tell him you know, got it?" I crossed my heart with a smirk and he smiled at me.

"His name is Bailey."

"Bailey?"

"Yeah."

"Isn't that a girl name?"

"Why do you think we call him Whiskey?"

He pushed himself off the bed and walked over to his closet, sliding open the door and pulling out a cardboard box from underneath the rows of hanging clothes. He crouched down and began riffling through it; the sound of glass clanging together filled my ears. I walked over so I was standing over top of him and could see what he was doing.

It was a box of samples: tequila, whiskey, brandy, vodka, and rum. They were the small ones that you got when you bought a full bottle of alcohol. He had probably swiped them from his parent's liquor cabinet, and they were so tiny that it would easily go unnoticed.

"Want some?" He looked up at me as he uncapped a small glass bottle of vodka. He pressed it to his lips and drank it straight, I winced at the sight, but it didn't seem to faze him in the slightest.

"I'm good." He stood back up and continued sucking it back while I played with the hem of my t-shirt. I hated being in these situations.

Beatle then stood up, screwing the cap back on, and walked over to the book case. He pulled out the largest book there -The Da Vinci Code- and opened up the cover, proving my theory. The inside of the pages had been cut out, and it had a large bag of joints inside.

"You can't be serious." I gave him a skeptical look, but he pulled one out anyways. He shoved it into his pocket and grabbed his red lighter off the nightstand, slipping that in as well.

Beatle lifted the blinds and pushed the window open. He reached up to pop the screen out, and I had to look away from his arms before I started to blush. He obviously worked out.

He grabbed the sides of the window and pulled himself out of the room and onto the roof. I raced over to the window and leaned out, watching him carefully stagger down the shingles.

"Where the hell are you going?"

"Out. I can't smoke inside. My 'rents would skin me," he whispered back harshly. He stopped at the edge of the roof and looked down at the lawn.

There was no way he would jump. He's not that stupid; it's over ten feet.

But I should have known by now that he was that stupid. He stepped off and he landed on the grass in a crouch, the impact making barely any noise.

He smirked up at me, "You coming?"

Before my mind could register what I was getting myself into, I was hauling myself out the window. I stood on the roof and looked down to the lawn. There was a cold breeze, and my t-shirt wasn't keeping me warm at all.

I leaned my weight onto my back foot as I carefully stepped down to the eves trough. I looked over it and down at Beatle, standing there with a stupid grin on his face. He held his arms out jokingly as my feet left the roof and made a hard impact with the ground. I didn't land perfectly like he did, no, I fell backwards and lay sprawled out on the lawn.

I groaned in pain and opened my eyes, seeing Beatle's hand extended in front of me. I grabbed it and he pulled me to my feet. I began to wipe the dirt and grass off my pants.

When I looked back up, Beatle was already halfway down the street. I sprinted after him, and he didn't even look back once.

"Slow down!" He ignored me and kept walking at his quick pace towards the school at the end of the street. It had no lights on, and a large climber.

I caught up to him just as he was opening the gate to the school yard. I tried to catch my breath without getting lost behind him again, but that was virtually impossible. I kept in step with him, making small gasping noises for air.

"Where are we going?" His eyes glinted in the moonlight as he extended an arm out towards the square, cement bunker in the corner. It was pretty large. We walked across the soccer field in silence, the only sound being crickets.

He stopped at the bunker and jumped a bit to grab the top, hoisting himself up like it was nothing. He sat on the edge and looked down at me with a smug smile. His hand reached into his pocket and pulled the blunt out, putting it to his lips and lighting it as he began to smoke.

I circled the bunker to try and find a way to get up. On one side there was a paved basketball course, and on the other there was a sand pit. I noticed that they were actually two small bunkers wedged together, with about three inches between them. I grabbed the top and shoved my foot into the small gap to push myself up. My shoe got stuck in between the two cement squares, but I didn't care. I had gotten up.

My arms and legs were burning from the effort as I laid my back flat on the top of the bunker, looking at the stars above.

Beatle leaned over me and blew smoke into my face. I coughed and choked on the horrible smell as he laughed in my face.

He continued to smoke until he noticed a guy walking on the street about 40 feet from the bunker. The guy was alone, and had his hands shoved deep in his pockets as he walked forward with his head down.

"Hey, dickhead!" Beatle called out, and my face dropped in horror as the guy turned and reached into his pocket, pulling out what I knew all too well as a Swiss Army Knife.

"What did you just call me?" Beatle smiled as the guy came towards the bunker and my body started to go into overdrive. I shoved Beatle off the bunker, causing him to fall into the sand pit, and jumped off right after him. I pulled him to his feet and took off running while gripping his arm. I could hear the guy's footsteps behind us as we ran across the soccer field again and towards the gate to the yard. I hardly noticed the absence of my shoe; I was just concerned with keeping alive.

Beatle was laughing as my heart was pounding out of my chest. He was crazy; he was insane. How was this fun?

We ran down his street and stopped in front of his house, the guy was long gone by now. I placed my hands on my knees as my chest heaved and I struggled to breathe. I felt like I was going to throw up. We could have just died.

Meanwhile, Beatle was struggling to breathe too, but for a completely different reason. He was sprawled out on the lawn like I had been earlier, but he was laughing his ass off.

"You could have just gotten us both butchered! You're deranged!" I yelled at him, and he continued to chuckle like this was the most hilarious thing ever.

"I know." He smiled and stared up at the sky; I shook my head at him and looked back up at the roof, trying to figure out how we would scale the wall to get to his window again.

"How do we get back up?"

"We don't." He smiled with that crazy glint in his eyes as he stood up off the lawn and grabbed my arm, pulling me towards his car.