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Marty wasn’t even paying any attention to where he was running; all he knew was that he had to run—run as far away from that disaster that was “home.” It was another day of the same thing—his father simpering in front of Biff while his mother drank in the kitchen and Dave and Linda argued loudly over who stole what from the other’s room.
I don’t know how much more of this I can take! I can’t wait to get out of this stupid town and all the stupid people in it—!
“Whoaaaaa, slow down, McFly!”
Marty yelled in frustration as Needles seized his arm, throwing him off-balance—of course, Needles let go of him to let him fall. Marty furiously glared up at him.
“I don’t have time for you today!” he snapped, getting to his feet. “Just stay the hell out of my way!”
“Aww, trouble in paradise, Marty?”
“I’m warning you, Needles—!
“Look, why don’t you channel all your inner aggression into something useful, huh?” Needles asked, grinning at how hot under the collar Marty was getting. “The guys and I are scoping out some new turf tonight—we could use your expert opinion.”
“Yeah, right—you just want a patsy to leave behind if we get caught—I remember what happened when we were ‘scoping out’ that spot by the old mine,” Marty sneered. “I’m onto you.”
“Nah, we actually want you as one of us—you can hold your own in a fight. We like that. As for getting left behind… just try to keep up, and then you won’t get left behind! Get those short, little legs of yours to do some double-time!”
“I don’t need this, Needles. And I definitely don’t need you.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah—that’s what you say, but you and I both know the truth. You’ve got nothing going for you at that home full of losers you live in. You got that no-talent band that’s going nowhere. You’re hopeless at school and are loathed by the principal. And you’re stuck doing odd jobs for the town’s mad scientist just so you can scrape a few bucks together. You need me, Marty—I’m the only thing you got going for you. Because we all know you’re not going to make it anywhere else.”
With a satisfied laugh at the look on Marty’s face, Needles turned and started walking away, but then paused to look back at him.
“…Well, you coming or not, Chicken?”
And Marty saw red; Needles knew he had said the magic word, and he ran off laughing as Marty tore off behind them.
“Just stand still for 5 damn seconds and I’ll show you who’s a chicken!” Marty yelled. “You’re the one running!”
But Needles just continued to laugh and jeer as he ran ahead, with Marty pursuing him down different roads in Hill Valley.
They were running past the junkyard when Marty began to close the gap between them; Needles ran into the junkyard, the two of them meandering around piles of metal and old tires. Needles put on an extra burst of speed and ran out from between two cars, startling someone who had been approaching from the perpendicular direction, holding a large cardboard box full of metal bits and pieces out in front of him.
“What the—?”
Marty was not as lucky; he crashed right into the unfortunate bystander’s box, sending the box crashing to the ground and sending the metal bits everywhere.
Marty stopped, stunned at what had happened, and then froze in horror at what he heard next—
“Marty!? Great Scott!”
Needles had looked back now, and began shrieking with laughter as a very mortified Marty, stammering a rapid-fire apology to Doc, who had backed up against a nearby car on account of being startled. Needles soon ran off again, and Marty soon found himself not caring at all as his face burned red, unable to look his mentor in the eye. Another foot to the right, and he would’ve taken Doc out in a charging tackle.
“Are… are you okay, Doc?”
Doc gently struck his chest twice with his fist.
“Yep, the old ticker’s still beating,” he snarked, now that the scare was over. His wry smile faded. “Marty, your arm…!”
Dully, the boy glanced at it, seeing that one of the bits of metal had left a cut on his left arm when he’d crashed into the box and sent it and its contents flying.
“Oh, that’s not good,” Doc winced, as the blood started to drip down Marty’s arm. “We’ve gotta get that cleaned up right away—I’ve got a first aid kid in the truck.”
“But the stuff…” Marty said, indicating the spilled metal parts. “I gotta help you pick it up…”
“Whoa! No, you do not!” Doc insisted, steering him away by his good arm. “They’ll still be there after we disinfect your cut. Are you up to date on all of your vaccinations?”
“Who cares…?” Marty replied, miserably. He still wasn’t looking Doc in the eye.
“…Well, I do, for one,” Doc reminded him, his concern growing by the minute.
“I don’t know why you would,” Marty said, punctuating his response with a hollow laugh. “Do you know how close I came to crashing into you? And you’re…” He trailed off, trying to choose his words carefully. “…Not at an age where you could just brush that off! I coulda really hurt you!”
“Well, thankfully, you didn’t,” Doc assured him. “But I must insist on an answer to my question.”
“Yeah, Doc, yeah—I got all my shots.”
Doc let out a quiet sigh of relief.
“Well, that’s good—tetanus is no joke.”
“You know what is a joke?” Marty asked, miserably. “The loser son of an even bigger loser who’s got no future—”
“Marty!” Doc interrupted, as they got to the truck. “What am I always telling you?”
“Stop hanging around Needles and letting him get to me?”
“Well… yes, but I meant the other thing I’m always telling you: You can accomplish anything…”
“…If you just put your mind to it,” Marty finished. “Yeah, well, you didn’t account for stupidity.”
“Because you’re not stupid,” Doc returned, as he began to rummage through the first aid kit. “Ah, here it is! You need the disinfectant on there first; I’m sorry, Marty, but this is going to sting like hell.”
Marty mumbled something along the lines of not caring, but he quickly changed his tune once Doc applied the disinfectant—and subsequently yelled a great deal of colorful words and phrases as Doc patiently let him vent before proceeding to continue treating and bandaging the cut.
“Well, look on the bright side,” Doc said, when he was finished. “You don’t need stitches.”
Marty finally looked at him in the eye; he opened his mouth to say some form of a thank-you, but it got lost as tears filled his eyes, and he wordlessly drew Doc into a tight hug.
Doc just gave a gentle sigh and returned the gesture.
“Trouble at home?” he asked.
“Uh-huh…” Marty managed to say.
“You hang in there, Marty. Would dinner back at the lab help at all?”
Marty nodded
“Then let’s get going.”
“But the stuff I made you spill…”
“Eh, it’ll all be there tomorrow,” Doc said, waving a hand in dismissal.
“…I’ll help,” Marty promised.
“I never doubted it.”
Marty fell silent again as they headed for the lab in the truck. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to articulate how much it meant to have someone that he could look to as another family—one that was even more supportive than his blood relations.
And yet, he was sure Doc already knew.