Eraser :: 02

Eraser :: 02

"Sorry." Dustin flipped out his pockets to prove how empty they were. "I'm outta quarters."

Teh arcade was brimming as usual. the crowd around the DDR was only going to get thicker as more kids showed up from school. Ricardo abandoned the plastic blue pistol and wandered toward the racers. He watched half a race over someone's shoulder. he didn't have any quarters either. He looked around the room, noting the faces that weren't so familiar to him. he scowled. He put his hands in his pockets and took a seat in an unmanned race simulator.

"We don't belong here, man." Ricardo groaned. "Why are we here?"

It was a stupid question. They both knew why they were so far out of their element. It had been only a couple of days since the masterpiece had been wiped from the Factory wall. As much as they knew 'shit happens', and no matter who repeated it to them, they couldn't push themselves to pick up the paint that day. Ricardo waved his arm in teh air, pinching an aerosol can that just wasn't there. Teh very feel of moving his paints hurt his shoulder.

"You got any quarters?" Some kid tapped at Dustin's shoulder. Dustin jsut showed him his inside-out pockets. The kid rolled his eyes. He kept talking as he strolled off to find another person to pick off of. "Damn, no one has any damn quarters."

"This is rediculous." Dustin put his pockets back together. "We're leaving."

"To go where?" Ricardo leaned back in the seat and put his foot against the screen. The colours warped under the pressure.

Dustin grabbed him by his hood and dragged him toward the door. "Anywhere. Anywhere but here. This place isn't helping us any. Sitting here won't make anything different. I can't jsut stand around."

"Caught just walking and that fuzz will swallow us." Ricardo stumbled along with his friend. The sunlight hit them head on. Ricardo wondered how those holed up nerds ever managed to walk outside their homes with a sun as cruel as this. Maybe this was why there still at school. Dustin looked around, and started down the street. Ricardo kept pace. Dustin kept his eyes on the ground. He was beating his nerves as if they had answers. Surprisingly, they came up with something.

"What did Courtney say?" He stopped dead on the street and pulled to teh side. Ricardo followed, suffering a minor case of whip-lash. "Something about sand?"

"Sanding." Ricardo rolled his eyes. How was this going to help? "Like what you do with wood."

"So the police didn't come and take it." Dustin threw his arms around. It was in moments like these that Ricardo remembered this latino kid was part Italian. Dustin mumbled something under his breath, then came to again. "Police just paint over shit, but this guy took the time to remove it."

"I should be happy about this?" Ricardo shoved his hands further into his pockets. "So some bastard's running around with a thing against me. I'm starting to miss the whole fuzz-are-dicks idea."

"He was probably jsut keepin' the Factory clear." Dustin threw up his hands. "I dunno. He coulda been paid to clean up the new stuff after the police so that they could paint over the rest of the place without havin' to worry about kids screwing it up behind them."

"I think we were better off at the Arcade." Ricardo sighed. "I'm going back."

"You don't have any quarters." Dustin laughed. "C'mon, this means we just gotta find somewhere else to go until they're done trying to clean up the place."

Ricardo stared at him. From the look on his face one might think that Dustin had told him to eat boots for protien. Ricardo blinked a couple of times to help get his shock across to his clearly disturbed friend. "Oh yeah, other territories! Such a good idea, man. Perfect."

"Aw, come on." Dustin grabbed his shoulders. "It's not all by territory. We can just find some out of the way spot to keep us from rusting up. You don't wanna loose your hand, do you? It wont' be too long. We can try some new stuff, get some new styles down and shit."

"I have my style." Ricardo argued. "And they got rid of it!"

"C'mon." Dustin gave up on urging him. He put one foot in front of the other, knowing Ricardo wouldn't be too far behind. At first he wasn't so sure where he was off to, but remembering that they were low on paints anyway, he decided to go stop by the source to pick up some colours. Maybe they could try some new tints for highlights or accents. Ricardo dragged his feet behind his companion. He was by no means willing to play along, but following Dustin around was better than going home.

They strolled in the front door. They made a lazy beeline to the back of hte store where the paints were held captive behind the thin white bars. Dustin eyed the cans all stacked in a row. He knew the typical colours- what he used, what Ricardo used, and though Courtney didn't tag often, he knew her colours, too. he knew them by their number. Now he looked at them all, each shade as if he had just gained his sight. He pushed Ricardo closer to the rack.

"What pops out?"

"I don't need paint." He insisted.

Dustin wasn't going to take that for an answer. "You used everything up. Push some boundaries before you start digging a rut."

Ricardo didn't answer at first. He leaned away and pretended to notice something down the aisle. When Dustin didn't give in, he turned back to the rack and stared at the colours. "I dunno. Maybe the cops are right. Maybe we should jsut hang it up. At least for now."

Dustin promptly smacked him upside the head. Ricardo clammed up tight. Dustin picked a wide range of colours they never messed with and laid out the cash. Ricardo just kept quiet. Dustin lead him out of the shop and down the street. They kept walking, corner to corner, street by street. They drifted from neighborhood to neighborhood, and finally found themselves a little overgrown alcove where traintracks ran through weeds. There was a low underpass, and cheap graffiti litered every inch of the walls. It was a little nothing place, and the wind blew harder here.

"I think we found a place." Dustin smiled. He shoved a can at Ricardo and picked a random colour of his own. Ricardo simply stood there as Dustin shook up his own can. Dustin didn't press him. Instead, he started painting whatever he felt like, anywhere he wanted. it felt good, trampling over all these nobodies and their illegible names. Teh feeling spread, and before long, Ricardo was letting loose too.

~*~*~*~*~*~


The two spent the hours into the night in that underpass. They had completely covered the place, save for the corners where only the taller or more acrobatic people could pin their names. It was almsot blinding to be there, considering all the strange and brillaint colours that stretched from end to end. The two had found colours that they knew would work well with their hand- and others they banned on the very first spray. The place was a complete mess. Paint dripped and dribbled in layers. Empty cans filled up a portion of the tracks. The last dregs of paint came off on the weeds, adding a trippy feel to the whole place. Colour was everywhere. It was glorious.

They stepped back. It was increadible. It made no sense, but it was beautiful to them. Ricardo sighed, grinning from ear to ear. "Thanks."

"Anytime." Dustin wiped his face on his sleeve. His smile was catlike in the dark. Ricardo half-expected his friend to vanish, aside from the gleaming grin. "Yo, man, we gotta tell Courtney."

"What time is it, anyway?"

Dustin pulled out his phone and slid it open. "Ten thirty-two."

"Mom says not to call anybody after ten." Ricardo laughed. Dustin simply shook his head. he put his phone away. 'Ain't you gonna call 'er?"

"I'm outta minutes." He sighed. "And texts."

"Dumbass." Ricardo slipped his own phone and started hammering away at the keys. He would have rubbed it in, but he didn't have any minutes either. He couldn't exactly remember where they went. Mysterious vaccums of the universe swallowed two things: socks and minutes. Ricardo wondered why his parents hadn't gone ahead with that one plan that allowed nights. They said if he brought home the money for it he could change their mind, and so there was no way he would have leverage for the next few years.

Found a new spot. Ricardo tapped out. Follow old tracks south.

Just as he was about to put his phone away, Courtney had texted him back. Can't leave the house. Report cards came home.

Ricardo showed the text to Dustin. The two of them paled to the expressions of their folks. The cards were never anything new, but somehow every marking period their parents expected a dramatic change from strait D's to strait A's. It was bad enough to sit through the screaming, but the bullshit that always came after sent a chill of horror down the boys' spines.

Then another text came in. Just kidding! Gimmie ten minutes to catch up. They're trying to put my sister to bed, so it'll be a while before they notice I'm gone.

Bitch. Ricardo sent back. He tucked the phone away. Dustin had already set to gathering the empty cans. He set the ones that were low against one edge of the track, while the virtually untouched were set on the other side.

"If only you put that much effort into your class." Ricardo laughed. Dustin rolled his eyes.

He set more cans into the respective sections. "Thanks, Mom."

The guys would have sat against the wall, but they were all still rather wet. They realized that they could have left a space for Courtney to do her thing, but they quickly dismissed it. They sat on the rails of the tracks, digging their feet under the rotting boards. Their thumbs hurt, and they laughed about it. This was the perfect place to be.

The ballerina danced along one of the rails as she came in from around the bend. Her messenger bag bounced against her hip, slung over the far shoulder. Apparently she had been at the mall recently- the guys didn't recognize it. They did recognize the shape of cans stacked up inside. They didn't bother getting up when she finally reached them.

"It's been eleven minutes." Dustin stared into the glow of his phone. "We were just about to leave."

"Har-har." Courtney threw her bag into the weeds. She picked up a few of the rejected colours of the cans that were mostly still full. She stepped out to the wall just outside of the underpass and set to work. She brought on her own flow to the cans, and suddently the colours that seemed horrific were just her touch. "What made you pick new colours?"

"Just for the hell of it." Ricardo shrugged. "Dustin's idea."

"Cool." She threw the colours around for a bit before stepping back. She looked long and hard into the underpass where the guys had let loose. She pointed out the parts she liked- some corners and accent combos. She copied some, twisting them to suit her better. The guys leaned back. She was nowhere as good as they were, but she was more than a step above the quick-taggers, and that was enough for them.

"This place ain't permanent." Dustin then explained. Courtney scratched her nose with the nozzle of the can, getting paint all over her face.

"Whaddya mean?"

"This place isn't a replacement for the FD." Dustin launched himself to his feet. "This is just a lil
studio, work out kinks, develop, wait out whoever's working up top."

"So this is just where we can lay low for a while." She turned back to her work. She nodded. "A'ight. It's easy enough to get to."

Ricardo pushed himself upright. He picked up the empty cans and loaded them into his pack. He coudl get rid of them on the way home. He copied some of the colour numbers down in the back of his english book. He and Dustin packed up the rest, and when Courtney had affirmed the place, they packed it home.

~*~*~*~*~*~

After school the next day they weren't in any hurry. They picked up new colours, worked out ways to pay the guy other than in cash. The shop owner still believed in the Barter System, which made him the favourite among the unemployed. Some of the kids at school even paid for their paints by cooking full meals for the guy. Once terms were worked out, the three set back to the tracks.

They saw a few people on the tracks along the way, but most of them were settled in their own spaces. With a comfortable distance between their underpass and everyone else, they decided not to worry about it. Most of them were older anyway, and probably wouldn't bother messing around with them.

When they got to the underpass, their jaws dropped. There was no way. The entire underpass, save for the corners where only the thin names remained, was entirely white. The weeds were still in colour, but every layer of paint from the night before had vanished from the walls. Cement dust was everywhere.

"It's like someone sanded it down." Courtney repeated. The three just stared at it.

"You can't just sand a whole thing down that fast." Dustin hissed. "Some wierd shit is going on."

Ricardo smiled. When the other two noticed, they were so confused by his delight. He set down his pack, picked out colours- classics and new favourites alike, and shook them up for use. "This is the perfect place to practice."

Courtney looked to Dustin, but he had no clue either. "What do ya mean, man? Have you lost it?!"

"It's like working on an etch-a-sketch." Ricardo laughed. "And every day we're going to come back to a fresh wall."

Courtney shrugged. She didn't quite understand his logic, but she grasped it. She picked up her paints and set to work. Dustin eventually followed suit. He stared at the thin scrawled names of anonymous taggers. Why hadn't they been dusted? He sprayed paint up into the corners just to cover up the survivors.

Little was said that evening, since Ricardo and Courtney was too far into the art to really talk. Dustin just kept muttering. "Some weird shit is goin' on..."