law. I started getting stressed out, worrying about what would happen if Mom got busted. Sometimes I got so depressed. The blackest feeling, like the whole world was closing in on me.?
Cid you see a doctor, or anything??James asked.
Curtis nodded. ite had every kind of pill going. In a lot of the places we lived, my mom would take me to see a psychiatrist. Every one of them acted like they knew what they were talking about, but they all came up with different answers. If you ask me, psychiatrists are a bunch of phoneys.
Two years ago, it started getting real bad. It go to bed and stay under the covers all day. My mom took me to this shrink in Philadelphia ?some hotshot shet read about in a magazine article. He reckoned my problems were down to a lack of structure in my life: moving from place to place and not having proper schooling or relationships with other kids my own age. So he puts this bright idea in my mome head to send me to a military school. I begged her not to send me, but I was a mess and Mom had tried everything else, so she went along with it.
The place was a toilet. They had me up every morning running laps. Making beds, polishing boots and that whole playing at being soldiers gig. One night, the commandant ripped into me for not knotting my tie properly. He gives me this little nailbrush and tells me to start scrubbing out this whole massive shower room. I did it for about ten minutes, then I ran off, busted into the weapons locker and stole the commandante car keys. Two hours later, theree three dead bodies and Ite got half the Arizona police department pointing guns at me.?
Thate what you call chucking a wobbler,?James grinned, making a mental note to mention Curtis?visit to the famous child psychiatrist in Philadelphia to John or Scott as soon as he saw them. Co you still get depressed??
Rot so much,?Curtis said. Though it gets really boring in here sometimes.?
*
James spent the evening watching Curtis?miniature TV and eating Stanley Duffe snacks. Stanleye battered brother was back from the hospital. Raymond looked like he was going to cry when he saw that Kirch had stripped everything he owned from his locker. He didnt even have a change of underwear or a pillow.
When James woke up, with his neck clamped to his bed and a cut-throat razor glinting in front of his eyes, he guessed it was Raymond Duff, but he was wrong.
Hou one of us??
James got a whiff of BO, a flash of grinning teeth and the rush of sheer terror that you get when you think youte about to feel serious pain.
Ire you one of us??Elwood growled again.
Curtis and the other skinheads were standing around James?bed, laughing.
i am,?James said, though the hand crushing his windpipe made it come out as a croak.
Kirche arm reached over from the next bed and dabbed James?cheek with a wet brush.
Hou look too hairy to me, Rose.?
Elwood pressed the razor against James?skin, close to the point of making a cut.
Lhat is this??James gasped. Come on guys e
if youte one of us,?Elwood grinned, Hou gotta get rid of that faggot haircut.?
Kirch waggled a wet shaving brush in his face.
Cut my hair,?James nodded, as Elwood let go and allowed him to sit up. But cant you use the battery razor I gave to Abe??
Kirch, Curtis and the three others whot got out of bed for the occasion laughed.
Lheree the fun in an electric razor??Elwood giggled. Houte not scared, are you??
Lhy would I be scared of you??James asked, trying to act as though being woken at 3 a.m. with a psycho waving a razor under his nose was the kind of thing that didnt bother him in the slightest.
Kirch moved in with the shaving brush and sploshed warm, soapy water into James?hair. After a couple of strokes, he got fed up and drained the whole mug of sloppy mixture over James?head. James screwed up his face in pain as it streamed into his eyes.
Better keep still,?Elwood giggled.
He placed the razor against James?forehead and swept it upwards. A soapy blond clump dropped into James?lap. Elwood hacked off hair from here and there, until James?head was a shocking mixture of bald spots, crazy tufts and the occasional bloody nick from the blade.
Derfecto,?Elwood said, backing away like an artist admiring a painting.
The skinheads were cracking up as they sauntered back to their beds. When