I'm going to start releasing little things from my four books in one.
This is actually a whole page but shhh.
This one is called Summer nights in a new town.
The page is tilted "They're trouble".
Bugeye jumps, switchblade practically flying out as he turns around.
“Whoa, my guy! Cool it, we just wanted to talk to the fresh meat!” A boy with platinum hair grins.
The shortest boy, a blue eyed boy with carrot curls pops up behind him.
“Come on, Randy, leave him be! Get!” He shoves the other way, taking a step in front of the stiff tower of honey blond wielding a blade.
There's a laugh as cigarette smoke wafts in the air.
“Protectin’ your little boyfriend, Kenny-boy?”
Glares daggers at the new appearance in the store.
“He ain't my boyfriend, Bo. Now back off fore’ I tell Trig you two wrecked his van!”
“Ohhh, so that was you two boneheads, huh? Had me blamin’ my favorite weirdo for nothin’ then?”
All three boys minus Bugeye turn the voice.
Kenny beams before huffing with a pout, glaring as he crosses his arms.
“Yeah! Made me take the hit for their stupidity, Trigs! Tell em’ to back off, the new boy is too pretty for them to bother!”
The eldest, the newest newcomer chuckles ad he peers at the pale tree of limbs behind his youngest member.
"Well color me stoked, found a cute little shit."
The overshadowed triplet?
The imperfect mistake his father calls a scum of disgrace before breaking his ribs for the fifth time that month?
His face unknown to him turns the same shade as his mother's roses.
The tallest, Trig? Trigs?
Steps over, the short one stepping out of the way slightly while sticking his tongue out at the other two.
“Nice blade, the owner got a name I can catch?”
The other is quiet for a moment, shifting as he grips his knife tighter.
The taller stares before taking a step back and making a show of reaching down to his jeans’ waistband, gesturing to the safety on the pistol before resting his hands on a shelf.
“Name’s Trigger. Well, what folks round’ here call me, real name is Peter Samson. These idiots behind me are my crew.”
A thumb gesture to the platinum head still grinning.
“That's Randall Day, we call him Randy or when we need to stroke his ego, the doc.” Randy or Randall holds up a pack of bandages for emphasis.
“That's Bo Gavin or if pissed at the boy, his real name, Bobby Rochester Gavin. He's our escape strategist." A mock salute from Bo who then leans against Randall who glares at him, mumbling under his breath.
Then finally he ruffles the shortest’s head.
“And my personal favorite, local sassy sweetheart, Ke–”He's cut off.
“Kenneth, Kenneth Gallagher. Ken or Kenny for short, nice to meet you.” He offers a smile that feels like a personal attack of sun light.
Bugeye stands still again before lifting his hands.
A finger points to his chest.
He makes a four hand shape then moves it forward.
Then he forcefully crossed an index finger over another.
Bo raises a brow, confused as he puts out his cigarette.
Kenneth frowns sympathetically but doesn't understand either.
Trigger turns towards Randall expectantly.
"Doc! Diagnosis?"Randall rolls his eyes at his leader before turning to Bugeye.
“He's mute. Am I right, dude?” He observes bluntly.
Bugeye gives a nod of confirmation.Trigger turns back to him, thinking before snapping his fingers towards Kenneth who pulls out a thing of sticky notes from his jacket pocket and a pencil from behind his ear.…
Why are they all wearing leather jackets?
The thought is cut off by the sudden thrust of the items towards him.
“Write your name.” The cherry red haired boy, Trigger, says.
Bugeye hesitates before reluctantly spelling out his name in his perfect cursive.
°•Bugeye Belyayev, just moved, to that farm on the outskirts•°
“Bugeye? Hell type of name is that, kid? Your daddy hate yuh or somethin’?”
Bugeye’s doe brown eyes shift away immediately.
Trigger feels bad immediately, like he shot the kid then kicked his puppy for good measure.
“Sorry… Sorry, loveybug, that's the lack of brain and filter talkin’. All of that crap be wasted on homework fore' summer I never turned in, fights, jail cells and gals.”
"Sometimes cute little things like you and blades."
“Loveybug, that's what I'm going to call you now and you're now a part of the leathers’ crew, that good?”
Bugeye beams, nodding furiously from where he's hiding behind the sticky notes.
"Good, now come on, we're skipin' this joint for some greasy garbage, you skin and bones, baby boy. Light breeze will send you to Africa." Trigger states, completely serious.
I did not intend for Trigger to be the way he is. He created him damn self, all I had was the nickname Trigger and he did the rest.
