Survival Of The Fittest

"That will be $7.80, sir".

Chad Klitou handed the cashier a handful of crumbled dollar bills. Reaching out, he grimaced at the tray of greasy fast-food that he'd bought. The food court at the Promenade had once had a decent selection of foods, but the recent years had lead to a decline until the only thing edible that was left were lousy burger joints. It wasn't that he didn't mind a half-decent cheeseburger once in a while, but having good food in a public place like this seemed like a given. Staring at the fries as he walked away, he couldn't help but notice the layer of grease on them.

Chad looked around the food court. Noon on Saturday was usually the time where you could find most of the high school students hanging out in the mall. He noticed a few members of the drama club in the far corner and a large group of cheerleaders and jocks taking up what seemed like half of the seats in the middle. Praying they wouldn't see him, Chad quickly hurried past with his tray. It may have been easy for some people to just join in on a conversation with them, but as he walked by, all he could feel was confusion. The things they gossiped about just didn't make sense. Who cared who said what about who? If anything, why couldn't they just chill out? Then again, it may have just been one of the mysteries of the world. Tomorrow never knows, right?

Walking away with the cheeseburger, fries and medium Coke, he looked around the court for a place to sit. There wasn't much time to eat. He'd promised his dealer that'd he meet up with him behind the mall in an hour. Since it had been a long time since he had really relaxed and gotten high, the prospect of buying some pot seemed like the highlight of the day so far. School was usually bad enough when you had to sit awkwardly through class, waiting until the bell rang while everyone else chattered away, but exam studying had taken its toll on him. Chad needed weed and he needed it bad. It was sad, and pretty pathetic when he thought about it, but it was one of the very few things in the world that helped him chill out. And in the long run, it really would have been great if everyone just chilled out a little....

"Eat it quick…" he thought as he walked. "Then hurry to the back and pay for the weed. Then go home and spend the rest of the day high as a kite and listening to music. The perfect Saturday, right?"

Too lost in his own thoughts, he didn't take notice of where he was going. It all happened so fast. Walking past a wet floor sign, he slipped and struggled to steady himself in the air to no avail. He fell forward against a table where a boy seemed to be drawing in a sketchbook. If he'd been paying attention he would have recognized him immeadidly from school, but he ended up to embarrassed to notice. Swearing under his breath, Chad mopped up the spilled soda with his sleeve and hoped that none had gotten on the drawing.

"Sorry…" he said quickly. "I can be such a klutz sometimes…"

Patrick jumped as soon as he saw movement so close to where he was sitting. He had been so absorbed in his drawing that everything else had drifted away. It was only when he saw soda flying towards his sketchbook that he thought a food court might not be the best place for an artist at work...

"Sorry... I can be such a klutz sometimes..."

"Klutz? You just ruined my entire sketchbook, you bastard! Do you have any idea how much work I put into that?!"

Patrick smiled meekly at the Chad and sighed. "It's no problem. There was nothing important in there anyways." He did his best impression of a casual chuckle, but it came out sounding as awkward as he looked. Where the hell was Kaine...?

Looking at Chad now, Patrick recognized him from school. If Patrick were more popular, he probably would have been able to say Chad's name right away and strike up a friendly conversation. As it was, however, he could only nod in acknowledgement.

"S-Sorry about your soda." "Why am I apologizing? It's his fault. Stop letting people walk all over you, Patrick..."

"It's cool", Chad said in confusion. Why is he saying sorry to me? I'm the one that ruined it.

He glanced over the ruined sketchbook. It was hard to see through all of the spilled soda, but it had once been a rather detailed picture of a demonic-looking clown's face. On a normal day this would have probably creeped him out a little, but his mind was too busy to really take notice of anything. Now you're hungry and you're going to be late for the dealer. Gazing down at Patrick looking hopelessly at his art, he felt that just walking away wouldn't be the right move. Forcing a smile and knowing he had to be out back soon, he tried his best to wipe some of the soda off.

"Nice drawing", Chad said.

Patrick shrugged modestly. "Y-Yeah, thanks. I don't really know why I drew it," he muttered

The drawing was still easy to make out, if a little smudged. If anything, it was the paper that was ruined. Now that he really got a chance to look at what he had drawn, though, he was surprised; it was another clown. It seemed like everything he worked on lately featured clowns.

"Um... I'm j-just, well... you know, just waiting for my brother. You know... Kaine." Everybody knows Kaine! Kaine's so fucking popular! Nobody ever gives two shits about his brother...

Patrick did his best to shake the thoughts out of his head. Kaine had never done anything bad to Patrick-- why would Patrick have any reason to be angry?

"I should probably get back to... um..." Patrick trailed-off into a whisper and looked down at his ruined sketchbook. He couldn't finish his sentance. "Nevermind..."

Chad eyed the boy after his awkward remark. Although he instantly had the impression that Patrick just wanted to be left alone, he still felt like a bit of an asshole for being careless enough to ruin his work. After all, in seventh grade, his art show painting he'd spent hours on had been lost in a fire in the art room. It wasn't a good feeling. Quickly checking his watch, he realized he only had forty-five minutes left until he had to meet the dealer. Still, things could wait...

Despite Patrick not making eye contact with him, he sat down next to him. It took him a moment to realize that he had a brother who went to school with them. He'd just never noticed it before. Kaine right? Was that who he was talking about? He tried offering you hallucinogens awhile back. You turned him down though. That stuff will fuck you up bad. Mary J's a hell of a lot better.

"I think I know Kaine", Chad said. "He looks a lot like you. Popular guy, right?"

Oh, of course! This guy probably goes to those crazy parties Kaine's always going to. Makes me sick.

"Y-Yeah, Kaine never had a problem talking to people," Patrick answered in what he hoped was a steady tone. "Our therapist t-thinks it's because he's a n-narcicist, but..."

Way to go, genius. You just told a complete stranger that you're crazy.

Hoping that he could erase what he just said, Patrick coughed into his sleeve and then leafed through his sketches. Then, perhaps provoked by one particularly surreal drawing, Patrick remembered his company's name. Maybe, if he changed the subject...

"You're Chad, right," he asked with a speed that exposed his timidity. "Don't you make movies?"

Chad couldn't help but feel shocked at the mention of his movies. It was the only mention he'd heard of them in the last year that wasn't negative. It had taken all his courage to showcase one of them in the school's film festival the year prior. What followed was the embarrassment of his life when his entire class had to sit through a ten-minute video of a squirrel. There's still kids who won't leave you alone about that. Oh well. So is life...

"Yeah, I love making movies", Chad replied. He found himself talking easier now that he was on familiar territory. "Ever since I was a little kid. I was thinking of going into a school for it when I graduate. Maybe make some independant stuff away from all the stuff Hollywood throws into the media. Show them that's there's still a reason to strive for art in this crazy world instead of movies that people are going to pay twenty bucks to laugh at and forget the next day. Show all the bigwigs that some kid from Minnesota can make as much money as they can just doing something he loves. And then there's..well..."

He realized he was ranting again. That happened sometimes. He always got that way when he felt strongly about something. He was quiet most of the time, almost silent, but when you gave him something that was truly provoked him, he was on it in a second. A little embarrassed, he tried to hide the fact that he was turning red and looked away from Patrick. Not much time left now. Dealer's going to be mad if you don't show up...

Patrick nodded politely as Chad spoke. His cousin had once taken him to a film festival to see some independant movies. Watching them reminded Patrick of his pictures. Chad's short film reminded Patrick of the time he spent with his cousin.

"I just draw," Patrick admitted shyly. "My old art teacher said that I was really good." With a self-conscience shrug, Patrick flipped his sketchbook open to a very abstract picture. In a landscape out of Dali's nightmares, there was a horse. It was divided neatly in half and seemed to be walking away from itself.

"I won an award for that," Patrick admitted humbly. "I drew it during the summer. It was before Kaine had his accident..."

Only too late did the artist realize his mistake. He looked down at his shoes and put his sketchbook away. He looked up at Chad nervously, hoping he wouldn't say anything.

An accident? Better not get into that kind of territory. Poor guy looks like he's terrified of letting something slip....

""Nice picture", Chad said. "Reminds me of something Dali would do. You're a hell of a better artist than I'll ever be anyway. I just draw because it's fun. I never really thought it was something I was that good at". He eyed the severed horse again. "You should keep going with it. You might actually end up somewhere in life if you keep practicing...."

He turned away from Patrick and looked around the crowded food court. There wasn't any time left. He had to leave now. The dealer wasn't the kind of person to be messed with. The whole pot-dealing community was like that. Chad hated it; there was such a lack of trust that there were times when he considered quitting weed all together just because of the kind of crowd that surrounded it. Gotta quit...gotta quit soon...but not now...just a few more times....

"Look", Chad sighed. "I'm really sorry about the drawing and I wish I could make it up to you. But I have to leave now. I...I kind of have to be somewhere...I'll talk to you later..."

Mopping a small puddle of soda up from the counter with his sleeve, he got up from the table and started walking away. About a foot away from the table though, he stopped. He couldn't help but feel bad about the whole situation with ruining Patrick's drawing. He had to make it up to him. He doesn't seem like the kind of person that would be into it. But you never know. And it would be great to do it with someone instead of being alone for once...

"Do..." Chad began. 'Do....do you want to get high with me?"

The moment he finished his sentence, he immeadidly felt bad. He'd completely disregarded the fact that Patrick probably wouldn't have wanted to do it. Great, now you sound like an asshole. Way to be awkward. You always gotta blurt out shit like that. As he stared at the boy sitting with the ruined sketchbook, his smile faltered into an awkward grimace.

"Do... do you want to get high with me?"

Patrick felt his heart sink but did his best not to show it. He'd had enough disappointment with his brother's acid problem. Now, it seemed he'd just made friend with another junkie.

Still, plenty of artists had used drugs for inspiration. But that memory from the beginning of school, seeing his brother in the hospital-- it wasn't something Patrick wanted to get involved in.

"No, thanks," Patrick said politely. "I guess I'll see you around school, though."

"No, thanks, I guess I'll see you around school, though."

Chad felt his face go red. Things like that tended to happen a lot. Almost on the spur of the moment, he spoke without thinking and ended up sounding like an idiot. Maybe it had something to do with his silent nature. With his emotions held up inside him for so long, things often ended up blurting out before he had a chance to think them through. Nice job man. Now you sound like an asshole...

"Sure", Chad said awkwardly. "See you at school then".

Not able to look at Patrick, he got up from his seat and started to walk away. Halfway through the crowd though, he ended up looking back at him. Then he felt the crumbled wad of money in his pocket. Eighty bucks could definitley be put to a better use. With a sigh, he walked back to Patrick.

"Here", he said. "There's eighty bucks in here. I was going to use it to spend the day as high as a kite but I'd be happier if you used it for something productive. Take half of it, go to the art store downstairs, and buy yourself a new sketchbook".

Patrick stared at the money, surprised if anything. Nobody had ever really done anything like this for him, except maybe his brother. Without really thinking, the young artist reached for the forty dollars and took it slowly.

He didn't even need a new sketchbook-- he had one at home that he could use. It was just the gesture; he didn't want to say no and refuse this sign of friendship.

Finally finding his voice, Patrick looked at Chad in surprise. "Are you sure?" He barely managed to ask above a whisper.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah", Chad said. "It's cool. I mean, all I'm going to do with this money is buy drugs. And I think we can both say that you'd find a better use for it than that. Take it. I could really use a weekend to sober up anyway".

He found the words coming out much more naturally now. It could have been called his conscience, but in the end, he just called it luck. He'd never been able to talk this easily before. As Patrick accepted the dollar, Chad took a quick look around. No drugs today. And that's a good thing to. What else could you do on Saturday? Maybe fix your video camera? Kick back and watch a few horror movies?

"I'll see you around school", Chad said. "Keep working on your art. It might end up getting you somewhere. I better get going".

Turning around, Chad gave a final wave at Patrick before walking away through the winding maze of tables and customers walking with food. He'd come into the food court with every intention of getting high. And now he was leaving with a sick feeling in his stomach, almost like a devil on his shoulder was telling him he was doing something wrong. Why the hell did he do weed anyway?

That was a question that had been plauging him for awhile. And, "just to chill out", definitley wasn't the answer. It was wrong, and it definitley wasn't getting him anywhere in this topsy-turvey world, but at least it calmed him down. And the way things were going, he really needed to find a new way to calm down. Walking out of the food court, Chad looked back at Patrick one more time before vanishing into the mall's crowd.

(Chad Klitou continued in Camcorders and Hot Cocoa)))

Patrick waved at Chad when he turned back to look at him. Of course, Patrick had friends-- or, more accurately, people who weren't mean to him-- but it was so shocking for someone to come out and befriend him. Deep inside, Patrick had to wonder if it was some cruel trick-- this cool, weed-smoking artist couldn't have honestly had an interest in a loser like Patrick.

Still, what's wrong with believing? God knows everyone in the school is an asshole; maybe I need someone I can be friends with.

Patrick got up; he cleared his table of the debris left from his uneaten meal; he smirked darkly as he left, thinking about his brother. Kaine wasn't coming; or, if he was, he probably wouldn't care that he had left his only brother waiting for a good hour. Why should Patrick keep waiting?

There was something different about Patrick as he walked away from the food-court (Water-hole for the ignorant, he thought with a grim frown) and decided to make his way to the store he usually shopped at for art supplies. It seemed like confidence, fostered by the still-young friendship. Maybe it was just an eagerness to leave the mall.

Whatever it was, it wouldn't last long.

(Patrick Fischer continued elsewhere.)