This book is a companion story for “To Be a Different Someone”. It is not required to read to understand the plot or the characters…but you may enjoy to know the other side of the story.

There is a very good chance you’ve heard about me. Eh, maybe not, for that would totally depend on your circle of friends and how late you stayed out on the weekends in Spokane, Washington. Was your car dented by some hellions driving a red car?
Hand raised high, right here! That was me, baby!

I mean…sorry, man, I really regret doing that in the now. Of course, back then, oh hell yeah it was a trip! I had several “nicknames”, most of them I can’t say in order to protect the guilty. My name is Matthew Tracker, aka “hey, you’re the guy who…”
I am getting ahead of myself though…and I’m not thinking things though. My girlfriend has told me to slow things down a bit…breathe, count to ten in Welsh of all languages—and I’m still not sure how that makes a difference--and then then continue. I’ll take that breath now. The counting may happen later.

I’m a different someone now. It’s easy for me to see that. However, until a certain point, me of my past would have cold-clocked me of now, dragged him down a flight of stairs and kicked him into the street saying “I hope it works out for ya!” For a long time, I was never alone. Seriously, I always had a voice inside my head giving me directions, telling me how great everything would be if we just did it his way. Well, when you’re seven years old and you hear someone saying that it’s okay to want to duct tape a roman candle to a tree and point it towards a bird’s nest. Then, yes, you’re probably going to do it because, hey, it sounded cool at the time.

The voice was always mine. It wasn’t like some low, guttural, demonic voice ordering me to do its bidding. No, more like a friend who was already there. A friend who had some great ideas, some not-so-great ideas, and a few illegal ones. The one I mentioned about the bird would have been one of the not-so-great bordering on illegal variety.

A great idea was to, at the age of fourteen, borrow a parked car and drive it around the city for a while, obeying all traffic laws, of course. I wasn’t alone in the escapade, no, we worked as a group in most of our hijinks: Chris, Tyler, Damon and yours truly. We did not have a gang name unless you damn bastards counts, we weren’t really even a gang…just a group of idiots doing stupid things to the residents of Spokane County.

Anyway, we’d take a car from the downtown area and then drive it up the north side through residential streets around the Newport Highway area until it either ran out of gas or we just got bored. If it ran out of gas we made sure to get it over to the side of the road and then get out and nonchalantly walk away. And if we got bored, I’d park it at a shopping center and we’d go inside to get a coke or something. After that, we’d find the nearest bus stop and head back to the South Hill, courtesy of Spokane Transit Authority.

"Where did you pick this piece of crap up from?" Chris asked as he slammed the door closed.
"Off of 29th Avenue. It was on the side of the road."
"Keys?"
"Magnetic case. Rear fender," I replied as I pulled away from the curb.
"Where we goin?" Chris asked as he fastened his seatbelt. That was a rule of mine: wear the freaking seatbelt--so the police wouldn't have more of a reason to pull us over. Forget about the fact that I was fifteen something and without a license at the time.
"Pick up Ty."
"Damon?"
"Got grounded. Has to help his grandmother with something. We'll try to swing by and get him if we can."
Chris looked up the street as I looked down.
"We're clear. Floor it!"
I turned the car onto Freya Street and we were on our way down the South Hill.

I was comfortable behind the wheel and I was pretty sure I would pass my driver’s test one day. The key was to take it easy when one had to and then let ‘er rip every now and then. I had to slow down as we approached Tyler’s neighborhood as his father was usually out on the front.

Mr. Jenkins always reminded me of those old guys on TV—the “get off my lawn” and “when I fought in the war in Vietnam” kind of parents. He was either in his easily sixties or late fifties with Tyler being the baby of the family. Tyler himself referred to his dad as “Ol’ Man Jenkins” so it was easy to laugh with him about it.
I pulled the car onto the street behind Tyler and revved the engine slightly—not enough to get people looking at me but enough to signal Tyler—who then came running down the alley and over the hood of the car. Chris, by then, had jumped to the back seat.

“Getting better at hearing the signal?” I asked.
“No, just needed to get the hell out of my house,” Tyler replied as he threw his head back twice—it was a thing he did when he got frustrated and it appeared his parents were dog piling whatever it was on him. I checked my mirrors and accelerated down the road.
“Never tell your parents you want to get into theatre.”
“No problem.” Chris said
“Never crossed my mind,” I replied as I turned onto Freya to head down into the city.
“I mean, you think I killed someone when I said I wanted to take up drama next year. Old man laid on the shit storm, talking how theatre doesn’t pay bills. What do I care about bills? I’m fucking fifteen years old!”

Tyler was the oldest of our group, and, like his old man, he had the voice of authority in a lot of what we did. I’d get the idea and run it by the group and if he objected when we’d stop—as Ty kind of knew if things were too dicey how much trouble we would get into.

“What’s the plan? Ty asked.
“I’m thinking NorthTown, you know, check out the chicks in the food court, maybe the arcade.”
“You give up on Krystal?” Chris asked.
“She does not want to be within a mile of me.”
“One wonders why,” Tyler replied as he flipped through the radio presets.

Krystal Laberdee was a cheerleader at Ferris High School. She had been on the junior varsity but had recently graduated to the varsity position. This girl had long, and I mean, freaking long blond hair and had these looks that grabbed me back sixth grade and there were times I wanted to talk with her but I could never get close to her due to her cousin, James Kane—who. Was. Always. Around. Me. Like he wanted to be my friend.
James Kane...how would be the best way to describe him...in a word, nothing.
No, quite literally, nothing.
You know that wasted space between the cereal bag and the box? Or that last bit of stale coke in the bottom of the can? Like that. Of course, he was useful for one thing-he was an easy target.

I admit, I tried to be the guy’s friend but there was something about him that made me just want to smash his head into a locker, figuratively, and that feeling grew so much that I tied his shoes together during his birthday party—you would think he would have noticed but he was so busy babbling on about working on some kind of clothes designs that he fell flat on his face in front of the ball return.
So, the issue was that if I really wanted to get with her I had to avoid James; but it was so hard to because he had this obvious mark on the back of his head that lit up like a Christmas tree wherever he was; a beacon signaling that everyone in a thirty mile zone was required to kick him when he was down.

And he was down a lot.
In fact, I made an extra on the last day of the school:
It was the final bell of school and all I did was stick my boot out over the sidewalk:
“You ought to watch where you're going!” Chris yelled at this pathetic looking kid lying on the ground. James was a short and lanky kid; no real redeeming qualities.

“Looks like you made it through the year, pussy,” Damon said as the four of us stood on the side of walkway.
James planted his hands to get up and with a salute by Tyler that we were in the clear of any teachers, I put my boot into his back to keep him down.
“And he hasn't been thrown into the crapper this year.” Tyler commented as he continued to be on the outlook.
“Yeah, you lucked out, didn't you, Kane?” I asked as I dug a little into his back, then took a step away, and adjusted my jacket. “What’s your plans for summer? Gonna finally score big with the ladies?”

James didn’t reply as he once again tried to get up. Damon looked at me to see if I was going to knock the kid down again. I decided to let him stand up and ‘face me’. This was going to be something to see.
James did indeed stand up and grabbed his back pack.
“Oh, so we’re sticking up for ourselves now, are we?”

We weren't getting any younger so I grabbed him by the neck and shoved him back to the ground. It was an interesting game; to see if he would try to get up and try walk away. He usually just needed a little prodding.
“C'mon, wuss, get up and let’s see you take your best shot.”
I planted my boot on his abdomen and applied just a little bit of pressure. Nothing to leave a mark, but just enough to prove how much of a wuss I thought he was.
“Let him go!” screamed a voice that, as I said, once loved but had grown of tired of hearing: James' cousin, Krystal Laberdee. I used to think of so many things I wanted to do with her...some not exactly clean-minded and others, well I was pretty sure she would tell me to drop dead.
She stood next to Lindsey Nichols, another cheerleader. They weren't idiots, quite the contrary to how cheerleaders are 'stereotypically supposed' to be.
“You're so lucky your cousin is so stacked,” I commented to James as I stepped back. The other guys moved away from us; for some reason they were afraid of a couple of cheerleaders.
“Shove it, Matt!”
Krystal stepped through the group to help James and we watched two cheerleaders save this pathetic kid from, well, I really didn't know what we were planning to do other than threatening him with bodily harm on the last day of school. Maybe it was a going away present since we wouldn't see him for a few moths and he needed to remember us.
Yeah, that doesn't sound right, does it?
Lindsey picked his backpack up as Krystal led him away.
“See you pussy!” I called out.
“You talking to Krystal or James?” Chris asked.
"Both," I replied as I lead the group in the opposite direction that James, Lindsey and Krystal walked. I looked back to them a few times, maybe twice, but stopped as it may have looked awkward to the other guys

I parked the car on the far side of the parking garage and left the key locked inside under the driver’s seat. The three of us walked up the stairs and onto the second floor of the mall.
“I mean, I think I still like her it’s just that cousin of hers annoys me.”
“Ever bothered to tell him that?” Ty asked.
“He doesn’t hear it, you know?”
“There’s always the fall. Assuming she goes to Ferris,” Chris replied as we walked to the escalator.

“I don’t know, I think I may keep my options open. Maybe someone from another school, like you and that Alexis chick, eh?” I asked Ty.
He shook his head and grunted, “long distance relationships are overrated.”
Ty kept his dating life secret. We only knew her name was Alexis, or Alex, or Al, but we never saw her. She went to Lewis & Clark High School; a bit over four miles away but as a person without a car, she might as well live in Seattle. He didn’t talk about her nonstop and the three of us occasionally jibed him on when we would get to see her but I had a feeling that that she would’ve freaked out at meeting us; or Ty would.

“I expect to at least see her at homecoming,” I replied.
“Drop it, Tracker.”
“Who pissed in your coke today?”
Ty turned to me and glared. “Really?”
“Okay, got it. Letting my soon to be a sophomore attitude get to me.”
“We haven’t been able to get together lately. I can’t even call because of dad.”
“You need to get a cell phone,” Chris quipped.
“Great idea, Chris. I’ll just buy it with my gold-plated, non-existent, credit card.”
“Maybe there’s one in the glove box of the car?”
“Just an atlas,” I replied as we entered the crowded food court.
My eyes darted around, but mostly looking at the various T&A that was barely covered due to the summer.
“If only the air conditioner was set a few degrees colder,” Chris whispered as he sat down a table.
“You got that right,” I replied.
“Again, it’s a wonder neither of you have been slapped across the face.”
“Excuse me,” I started to say as I swung a chair out and sat down backwards. "I’ve taken a few hits to the ‘nads’. I’ve earned my stripes.”
Tyler sat down and just shook his head.
“I’m not saying I know how it all is.”
“Thank God for that,” Tyler replied.
“Hey, hey, if praying would get a chick to sit in my lap, then I would chap my cheeks on a rosary.”
Chris nodded.
“My ass cheeks, but it’s about the same thing, right?” A part of me regretted saying that as four girls walked by the table. Each one gave a scoff, sneer and a movement to their hair that I had seen Crystal do many times and it translates as “fuck you, loser.”
Eh, it didn’t matter; as Tyler said, long distance relationships never worked. Still, they all looked nice and one of them looked back at us with a quizzical look on her face.
I responded with a wave and a quick smile.
“Excuse me, guys.”
“Don’t-”
“I won’t bring her home with us Ty.”
“Good, because that didn’t go well last time. Right Chris?”
“That was an accident, and no one seemed to mind at the beginning,” Chris mumbled.
Chris had unknowingly picked up a street girl and her pimp chased us for several miles. It took her awhile to figure out we were all teenagers.
“It was a good try,” I said to myself as I approached the girls from the side of the one who looked back. I had already decided that she could come with us if I could convince her.
Sure, we didn’t have a car that was actually ours. I’d improvise.
Maybe I’d have to drive her back home; I’d risk it.
Perhaps a little fun, any way we could try.

“Who are you?”
My attention was so intent on the red-haired girl in a tight capri and a white shirt that wasn’t hiding much that I didn’t see a very large, but short woman coming up to the four of them. Then, there were nine eyes staring at me—as the woman used the evil-eye glare.
“Just admiring these lovely ladies, especially you, miss,” I looked intovthe eyes of the redhead in question. She had streaks of black hair in the side of her face and I have to admit, that made her look radiant. Of course, compared to the lady next to us, this girl had the look of a super model combined with and angel.
“Do any of you know this guy?”
“His name’s Brian,” the redhead replied, The others just nodded.
“Brian is it?”
“Yes ma’am. Brian Boitano. We met outside of Spencers and have kind of been walking around.”
“Then why were you all the way back at that table when I walked up.”
The lady would’ve made a great cop and I was being a pretty decent actor, if you mind me saying.”
“Mom, it’s just that Jessie wanted to talk to the rest of us before she—”
“I was going to give him my phone number, “ Jessie replied as she turned around gave me a quick smile.
“I do not think that is a good idea, Jessie. You don’t know him. He could be lying about his name.”
“I admit, I don’t have any identification on me, ma’am. But my friends can vouch for me.”
The woman snorted and huffed. “Let’s go girls.”
The five of them walked away and Jessie looked back again as she other three girls giggled.
“Maybe you take drama,” Ty said as he walked up.
“If only we had had more time.”
“What you have done, Brian? A triple jump into her heart?” Chris asked.
“I’d first take that lady down with a skate and then, then, maybe I’d make a move of two.”
“They’re getting farther ahead.”
“And we’re going to walk in the general direction they’re going, as our car is parked in the same lot.”
“So it doesnot look like we’re stalking them.”
“Exactly,” I relplied to Chis as we started walking.
“This isn’t going to end well,” Ty lamented as we kept a bit of a distance between our group.
“I’m just saying, we could do a lot better for the world,” I kind of shouted.
“Are you fucking serious?” Ty whispered with s cough.
“I agree. We could help clean the oceans.”
“And be kinder to animals. Dolphins, dogs, cats.”
The goal was to sound like we kind of cared to the ears of someone over forty without anyone thinking we were on the school debate team.
The girls had reached the door leading to the crossway to the parking garage when a piece of paper fell from Jessie’s hand right as the door closed. We accelerated our pace to the door to pick up the note,
“Hoping to talk to you Brian and your tall friend. Jessie and Bridget. Call me.”
“I take it back, that went okay.”
“We won’t tell if you call her.”
I’m good.”
“I’m about as tall as you, Ty, maybe she meant me.”
“Have at her, Chris.”
We all nodded in agreement.