Cracker

Start Fiction:

North Liberty was a small knit community which had experienced a boom in population over the past decade; however, the city planning was so hodgepodge, it wasn't quite a city. There were a lot of little strip malls, gas stations and housing developments that attempted to give some simblance of cohesion. Cookie cutter communities, built over lush and fertile farm land.

Many families, couples, moved to the area as one worked in Iowa City and the other worked in Cedar Rapids. Caught in between the blue color world to the north and the white color world to the south, the amalgamtion of cultural influences was a disharmony at best; chaos in reality.

Willie Dorbin was a sixteen year old who reflected this disharmony. A lanky white kids, dressed as though he had just been imported from the Chicago or St Louis "streets". His pants hung as though he had simply grown too fast; his ass hung out reveling his boxers, yet he was conscious enough to wear a splater paint belt to "hold" up his pants; his baseball cap had a flat bill with the tags and stickers still afixed; black laceless hi-top shoes with skulls on the heals that looked as though they were made from plastic rather than leather; and of course, a heavy metal tee-shirt.

Some would call him a cracker, but he wasn't trying to be anything other than "unique", like all of his friends. He didn't use street slang when he spoke, took off his hat when he walked in doors and seemed more self conscious than confident or arrogant. By most accounts, he was a good kid, he just looked like trouble. And looking like trouble often attracted people who were trouble, like Kevin Reilly.

End Fiction.

I like this, at least from the middle on. I just might have to revisit this one. Soon.