@viscervl
ciaran stabbed at a dirty bag of doritos. chip crumbs dribbled out into the dirt, vivid orange against the pale dirt. a cigarette hung between his lips, sun beating down on his freckled skin. community service sucked, but at least he could make a couple bucks on the side. so really, it was like regular work. well, if ciaran had a proper job, anyway he supposed he was lucky to get off with just trash duty. although, it was pretty bullshit that assault and battery got jackon fifty hours and robbery got ciaran one hundred, even if it was grand theft. “is that color natural?” jackson asked. ciaran reached into his pocket and withdrew a joint. “yeah, and, yes, carpets match the drapes.” acrid smoke burned his lungs. “how much?” “ten bucks.” “here.” jackson handed him twenty. ciaran passed him two joints. jackson took a seat besides him on the steps. “the fuck is that?” ciaran followed jackson’s gaze. across the lot, a van had parked. a stream of kids wearing matching green shirts filled out. they all had that clean cut look of someone well taken care of. “northside kids.” he paused, watching them, smoke curling out of his nostrils. “really northside. that’s a fuckin prada backpack.” “pfft, that’s gonna get pinched in a fucking second.” “i could use an extra couple hundred,” ciaran snickered. they sat in silence for a moment, watching the teenagers. ciaran dropped the cigarette at his feet then ground it out with his foot. “hey, you know that kid?” jackson asked, jerking his chin in the direction of a tall boy with brown hair. he watched them, a tray filled with potted flowers in his arms. “fuck no.” the two watched the northside kids unload tray after tray of flowers. one or two looked their way, but not for long. except for the boy with fluffy hair and big eyes. he kept steeling glances their way, even when he began planting the flowers and when ciaran and jackson went back to work. it started to give ciaran the creeps. “smoke break,” he muttered. jackson glanced at him, then went back to spearing beer cans. ciaran ducked around back to the stoop he’d been smoking at early. he took out the too small bottle of water the state had provided. after polishing it off, he got up, peered around the corner of the building, then chucked it back at jackson. smirking, he returned to his seat, took out a crumpled plastic bag, and took out a joint. what was the point of sending those northside kids to plant flowers? they were going to be stolen in two seconds. it was a waste of plants, for one. for two, no one even came by this park any more. the buildings beside were condemned, and it wasn’t as if the crack heads squatting in them would notice their efforts. fuck, they’d probably post a photo to their facebooks and then forget this place even existed, then look like hot shit on their college applications, or whatever the fuck. he lit his joint. “fuckin’ stupid,” he sighed.