"Pressure, pushing down on me, pressing down on you no man ask for
Under pressure that brings a building down splits a family in two
Puts people on streets."
-Queen, Under Pressure(1982)

The school bell finally rang, and everyone, except me, could breathe a little easier. My breath actually quickened, because I needed to get out of there fast, lest a Ray Charleston follower would corner me and leave me bleeding in an alley. And I had to go home. I got several offers to get a ride home from school to solve the first problem, but the only one I accepted was Edwin, (who punched you if you called him anything but Eddie) Defries. He was the only person in the world I really trusted with my life aside from Dakota, a guy who was pretty much my brother who you'll find out about later. Eddie and I hung out as often as time allowed.

"I'll kill him for you, if you want," Eddie said, running a hand over his slick-backed brown hair, which he styled with Dippity-Do gel every day without fail. Some may consider this to be a mark of a nerd, but if you saw Eddie you'd drop the impression fast. He played football, obviously the same team as Ray, but he didn't like Ray. He was well built, shorter than me by about half a foot, with a round face.

"That's not necessary," I said, sitting in the passenger seat. It was the worst car you could possibly imagine. The junker was only $500 to haul it from the scrap yard in working condition, and to be honest, nothing had been done with it yet. There were bath towels spread out on the seats to spare the sight of the leather molding underneath you. But Eddie loved that car with a passion; you would've thought from the way he talked it up it was a Cadillac.

"You ever need anything, you can talk to me," He said seriously, slapping me on the shoulder. I guess we understood each other, absent fathers, low income. But his mom was a very good mom, and he had two little sisters. One was a year old. They lived in an apartment above the pizza place in town.

"I know I can," I said. We rode in silence for the rest of the way.

"Thanks for the ride," I said.

"Don't mention it, man," Eddie said. I smiled and closed the car door. A noticeable dent was in the side of it. I shrugged and started the walk up the drive to my house. Roots were starting to show through the brick path, making the yard look untended. Not like it wasn't already. The lights were on in my mom's room. I didn't go in there. I opened the storm door. It made a loud screech as I pushed it open. The wooden one beneath it was stuck. I threw myself at it and it opened, luckily without breaking the wood.

Inside, the living room was much the same as I left it. That wasn't what I was expecting. My mom usually came out of her bedroom after I left the house to sit on the couch and watch NBC. It was a little weird, but I didn't care nor wanted to look for her, so I went to the kitchen.

Coffee had been made and milk had been left out on the counter. It had already started to smell, so I tossed it out.

There's a very big reason why Dakota drove himself to and from school. No self-respecting bus driver would ever go up or down the driveway. It was more like a road and it led back into the lumber yard and their house. The main problem with it was that it was unpaved. It was once, because you could've hit a pothole and flew out the windshield. But no stupid leather strap could protect you from feeling sore after your drive. Padded seats did nothing.

Their house was made of logs and was probably the envy of everyone at school, even the rich kids. It smelled like pine in there and sometimes smoke in the wintertime if they had their fireplace going. It was clear they made a lot of money. As Mr. Lewis, or Keith, as he told me to call him, was the only dude around who sold lumber, it was easy to make six figures a year or better. There were a lot of yuppies in Ridgeton. They liked the thought of building their own crap. It was another story if they actually built it good. Or even really started.

As we pulled to a stop at Dakota's driveway I yelled at Shelley to drop me off here. She nodded in consent and turned the motor off. "See ya soon doll," she said, and waved bye.

I started up the long driveway.

Twenty minutes later I arrived pretty walked out; I usually drove down the road or got driven. The log house was waiting for me at the top of the hill with a nice tone staircase extending down the hill. I started walking up. To the right of it lay the lumber yard. Many grinding and churning machines could be heard over there, which meant they were running that day. Who was running them was another story.

I opened one side of the heavy pine door and found myself in their elaborate entranceway. A big chandelier hung over the staircase to the loft. The white and gray carpet with wolves on it lay out in front of me. I walked through another large doorway into the main hallway that led to the kitchen.

Mrs. Lewis was folding laundry when I came in. "Peter! Honey, oh, it's so great to see you!" She ran over to me and gave me a hug. Mrs. Lewis (who told me to call her mom but I never did) was a small woman with silky blonde hair she tied back with a bun. Every time she hugged me her small frame was dwarfed. She stood at five feet two inches. But what she didn't have in height she made up for in personality.

"Hey." I said softly, hugging her back. She pulled away and examined my face, looking me up and down. I saw her eyes land on my wound from the wall.

"Who hurt you?" She asked. Her eyebrows knitted together as she wondered who hit her baby. I'm sure she knew though. Moms know everything. Even when they're not your own mom.

"Mmm, no one," I said, looking down at her sheepishly.

"Huh," She folded her arms," You've done a nice enough job of covering it up. You want to help me fold some of this?"

I smiled, thanking her silently for her understanding before picking up one of Dakota's t-shorts and folding it. It was a picture of Clark Gable in neon with sunglasses on. "My my," I said. "Your son has weird taste."

"Yeah, I've known that for a long time now," Mrs. Lewis laughed. I laughed with her. "How did you get over here anyway?" She looked over.

"A friend dropped me off." I stated. "She's got a motorcycle."

She nodded with a smile. "You know, Dakota's father had a motorcycle. We sold it to pay for a room expansion." My eyes widened. I figured with all the money they seemed to have, they could've had a whole fleet of motorcycles. "That was way before the lumber mill ever got off the ground." I nodded like I was paying rapt attention and continued folding.

After we were done she looked at me. "How about you go over to the mill? I'm sure the guys need your help."

I said, "Are you sure? You don't need any more help around the house?"

"Of course not," she replied. "Don't open that back up, though." She tapped her own forehead. "I'd keep you up here if there was more work to do, now shoo!" She swatted me with an extra dish towel. I left out the back door, going through the garden.