The West Enders

Write, illustrate, edit and publish The West Enders, a nationally distributed literary magazine created by student-artists at West End Alternative Secondary School in Toronto. Call 416-393-0660 or email lee.sheppard@tdsb.on.ca to find out more.

Friday 12 October 2012

Nowhere Bound

Story by Cecilia Evoy
Illustration by Cecilia Evoy



“Summer sucks.”
Brian’s proclamation startled Jason.
“It doesn’t.” Jason said, briefly turning his concentration from Arthur to his older brother.
“Gimmie that.” Brian snatched the remote out of his brother’s hands and violently flipped through the channels. There was nothing other than kid’s cartoons and preachers trying to tell him how lost his soul was. Brian already knew that. He settled back on Arthur, letting the grey remote drop beside him.

The over-stuffed couch itched Brian’s back, making him shift continuously. He could feel his sweat seeping into the couch, leaving a print where his body rested. He looked at his ten year old brother, wondering how he wasn’t bored out of his skull, too. But then, Brian remembered being six. He remembered things being not so complicated; being able to remedy summer listlessness with a game of Jacks or tag. Running as fast has his then-small legs would take turning his skin brown. Summer was great back then. At seventeen, it was just… too long.
Realizing that neither his brother nor the TV would be of any help to him, Brian stood, stretching. “I’m gonna go to Jon’s. I’ll be back late. Don’t do anything stupid before mom comes home, okay?” It was more of a warning than advice. If Jason got in trouble, so would Brian.
Jason nodded without looking up, and Brian took his chance to leave. He grabbed his skateboard, the grainy grip tape rubbing against his palm. It kind of felt like that stuff his mother used to make her skin soft. Brian had used a little bit of it once, but he didn’t like the feeling of hard chunks of stuff rubbing his skin and washed it off.
The air outside was sticky and thick. Brian tried to get a good lungful of breath, but struggled to do so. He threw down the board and jumped on, his lanky body twisting to keep balance as he gathered momentum.
He found no relief as he went. The Toronto heat drew all the moisture from his skin. Maybe a trip to Jon’s wasn’t even worth the heat he had to put up with. Brian didn’t know if Jon was even home. Jon had set his sights on getting a car and spent every moment at work; Brian felt like he hadn’t seen Jon in months, but it had only been a couple of weeks.
Summer always brought with it an inner restlessness for Brian. He needed to move, to get blood flowing through his veins so he didn’t feel like he was fixed in place and stalled. Brian had always needed be doing something, but as he got older, the feeling got worse. He felt so useless when bored. Last summer hadn’t been so bad. His friend’s band had gone on a short tour around a couple of cities. They’d let Brian tag along, carrying their equipment and setting up their guitars. Brian liked the nomadic feeling of touring. There was always something to do, to set up, to fix. But his friend’s band wasn’t touring this year. They broke up angrily, leaving no possibility of a reunion, leaving Brian stuck in a city that was such a drag.
Brian found himself in front of Jon’s house. Jon’s dad was in the driveway, stained with oil and sweat.
“Hey, Mr. Moretti, is Jon home?” Brian called, flipping his board up and walking toward Jon’s dad.
“Oh, hey Brian. No, Jon’s working today. He’ll be back by five, if you want to come then.” Mr. Moretti wiped his blackened hand against his forehead.
“Thanks, sir.” Brian nodded to the man and jumped back on his skateboard. Brian’s restlessness grew. Everyone he knew was either working some minimum wage job or at a cottage up North. Brian added ‘Loneliness’ to his list of reasons he hated summer. Brian glowered and turned back the way he came
Brian didn’t know what he was going to do with himself all afternoon. He only had his stupid kid brother to hang out with. It wouldn’t have been so bad if Jason was older, but all Jason wanted to do was play with cars or watch TV. Maybe, Brian thought, he could take Jason to the park or something. Show the kid how to climb trees properly.
When Brian arrived home, he could hear his mother’s voice, even from his front porch. Brian cringed. His mom wasn’t supposed to be home yet. Preparing for the shit storm that was about to come down on him, Brian took a deep breath and opened the screen door. It screeched at him, a warning of what awaited him in the house.
“Brian? Is that you?” His mother’s voice called from the kitchen. Brian chucked his board into the corner by the door and walked to the kitchen. There was cereal and milk spilled across the floor. It created a disjointed mosaic across the pale pink tiles. A broken bowl was scattered slightly away from the mess of breakfast. Brian looked from the mess to Jason, who was looking at his toes like he’d just discovered them.
“Where the hell have you been?” His mother demanded.
“I was only out for, like, half an hour!” Brian flung out his arms challengingly. It wasn’t fucking fair. He didn’t ask for a brother. He didn’t ask to be the babysitter. Brian glared at Jason.
“Don’t you look at him like that! If you had been here, this wouldn’t have happened! I come home sick and this is what I have to deal with! Look at this mess, Brian!”
“It isn’t my fault! I shouldn’t have to stay in the house all summer, just ‘cause Jason’s home!”
“Take him with you, then! Jesus, Brian, he’s your goddamn brother! I don’t ask much of you, you know! All I ask is that you look after your baby brother while I’m at work! It’s two months, Brian, two months!”
It was all Brian could do to not put his fist through the wall. Fuck, he couldn’t wait ‘till school started. Then everyone would be back, he wouldn’t have to look after his brother, and he wouldn’t have his mother breathing down his neck anymore. Brian turned on his heel and marched back to the door to grab his board.
“Where do you think you’re going?” His mother yelled.
“Anywhere but here!” Brian slammed down his board and took off, going as fast as he could, nowhere bound.
“Fuckin’ summer.”

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