M&M Carlson Character Analysis

It was a long walk to the bowling alley, and I wished for the hundredth time I had a car. I had to walk everywhere I went. As if he’d read my mind, which he was in the habit of doing, Mark said, “I could hot-wire us a car.”

“That’s a bad thing to do,” M&M said. “Taking something that doesn’t belong to you.”

“It ain’t stealin’,” Mark said. “It’s borrowin’.”

“Yeah, well, you’re on probation now for ‘borrowing,’ so I don’t think it’s such a great idea,” I said.

Mark suddenly poked me. “You still in the mood for a little action?”

“Sure,” I said. Mark motioned toward the next intersection. There was a black guy standing there, waiting for the light to change. “We could jump him,” Mark said, but suddenly M&M spoke up.

“You make me sick! You just rescued me from some guys who were going to beat me up because I’m different from them, and now you’re going to beat up someone because he’s different from you. You think I’m weird—well, you’re the weird ones.”

I looked across the street, watching some little twelve- and thirteen-year-old teeny-boppers make fools of themselves—smoking, trying to act cool, pushing each other, screaming and swearing so loud I could hear them. I had a sudden recollection of Mark and me at twelve, smoking our heads off, clowning around, hoping someone—usually some little long-haired chick—would notice us and see how cool we were. All of a sudden it seemed like I was a hundred years old, or thirty at least. I wondered if, when I got to be twenty, I would think how stupid I was at sixteen. When I remembered us, it didn’t seem possible that we had looked as silly as these teenyboppers, but I guess we had. At least then we weren’t worried about looking silly. We were sure of ourselves, so sure we were the coolest things to hit town. Now I wasn’t so sure.

“Nothing bad happens to you when you’re a kid. Or haven’t you realized that?”

“Youth is free from worry,” I said sarcastically. “You’ve been listenin’ to too many adults.”

“I don’t worry. I’m never scared of nothing, and I never will be,” Mark said, “as long as I’m a kid.”

“You can get away with anything,” I said, because that phrase came through my head whenever I really thought about Mark.

“Yeah, I can.” He was quiet. “You used to be able to.”

I looked at him, and suddenly it was like seeing someone across a deep pit, someone you couldn’t ever reach.

“It’s O.K., kid, you’re going to be O.K.”

“Where am I?” he was screaming in terror. “Why don’t I know where I am?”

I was just sick. I didn’t know how Cathy was managing to drive the car. I never felt so bad before. I just held onto M&M. There wasn’t any sense in trying to talk to him. I felt then that he was as much my little brother as Cathy’s. That’s how bad I felt.

“Is that what’s buggin’ you? Listen, I didn’t sell M&M anything. He got it from somebody else. Lookit, Bryon, they’re going to get it from somebody if they want it, so why can’t I make some money? I never forced it on anybody. I never tried to talk somebody into using drugs so I could make a buck.”

He could have talked all night and I wouldn’t have changed my mind.

I wondered tiredly why I had never seen it before: Mark had absolutely no concept of what was right and what was wrong; he didn’t obey any laws, because he couldn’t see that there were any. Laws, right and wrong, they didn’t matter to Mark, because they were just words.

Mostly I wonder “what if?” What if I had found out about Mark some other time, when I wasn’t half out of my mind with worry about Cathy? What if I hadn’t met her in the first place, would I still have grown away from Mark? What if M&M had had a good trip instead of a bad one? What if someone else had turned Mark in—would there still be hope for him?

I am too mixed up to really care. And to think, I used to be sure of things. Me, once I had all the answers. I wish I was a kid again, when I had all the answers.

It was a long walk to the bowling alley, and I wished for the hundredth time I had a car. I had to walk everywhere I went. As if he’d read my mind, which he was in the habit of doing, Mark said, “I could hot-wire us a car.”

“That’s a bad thing to do,” M&M said. “Taking something that doesn’t belong to you.”

“It ain’t stealin’,” Mark said. “It’s borrowin’.”

“Yeah, well, you’re on probation now for ‘borrowing,’ so I don’t think it’s such a great idea,” I said.

Mark suddenly poked me. “You still in the mood for a little action?”

“Sure,” I said. Mark motioned toward the next intersection. There was a black guy standing there, waiting for the light to change. “We could jump him,” Mark said, but suddenly M&M spoke up.

“You make me sick! You just rescued me from some guys who were going to beat me up because I’m different from them, and now you’re going to beat up someone because he’s different from you. You think I’m weird—well, you’re the weird ones.”

I looked across the street, watching some little twelve- and thirteen-year-old teeny-boppers make fools of themselves—smoking, trying to act cool, pushing each other, screaming and swearing so loud I could hear them. I had a sudden recollection of Mark and me at twelve, smoking our heads off, clowning around, hoping someone—usually some little long-haired chick—would notice us and see how cool we were. All of a sudden it seemed like I was a hundred years old, or thirty at least. I wondered if, when I got to be twenty, I would think how stupid I was at sixteen. When I remembered us, it didn’t seem possible that we had looked as silly as these teenyboppers, but I guess we had. At least then we weren’t worried about looking silly. We were sure of ourselves, so sure we were the coolest things to hit town. Now I wasn’t so sure.

“Nothing bad happens to you when you’re a kid. Or haven’t you realized that?”

“Youth is free from worry,” I said sarcastically. “You’ve been listenin’ to too many adults.”

“I don’t worry. I’m never scared of nothing, and I never will be,” Mark said, “as long as I’m a kid.”

“You can get away with anything,” I said, because that phrase came through my head whenever I really thought about Mark.

“Yeah, I can.” He was quiet. “You used to be able to.”

I looked at him, and suddenly it was like seeing someone across a deep pit, someone you couldn’t ever reach.

“It’s O.K., kid, you’re going to be O.K.”

“Where am I?” he was screaming in terror. “Why don’t I know where I am?”

I was just sick. I didn’t know how Cathy was managing to drive the car. I never felt so bad before. I just held onto M&M. There wasn’t any sense in trying to talk to him. I felt then that he was as much my little brother as Cathy’s. That’s how bad I felt.

“Is that what’s buggin’ you? Listen, I didn’t sell M&M anything. He got it from somebody else. Lookit, Bryon, they’re going to get it from somebody if they want it, so why can’t I make some money? I never forced it on anybody. I never tried to talk somebody into using drugs so I could make a buck.”

He could have talked all night and I wouldn’t have changed my mind.

I wondered tiredly why I had never seen it before: Mark had absolutely no concept of what was right and what was wrong; he didn’t obey any laws, because he couldn’t see that there were any. Laws, right and wrong, they didn’t matter to Mark, because they were just words.

Mostly I wonder “what if?” What if I had found out about Mark some other time, when I wasn’t half out of my mind with worry about Cathy? What if I hadn’t met her in the first place, would I still have grown away from Mark? What if M&M had had a good trip instead of a bad one? What if someone else had turned Mark in—would there still be hope for him?

I am too mixed up to really care. And to think, I used to be sure of things. Me, once I had all the answers. I wish I was a kid again, when I had all the answers.