Free Falling

2|Burnt Toast

"Kenny, where's my skateboard?"

The sleeping boy grunted and rolled over, revealing his naked torso. For a minute I thought he was awake, but a loud and abrupt snore tore through the room like an avalanche. I smacked him on the chest, and his eyes shot open.

"f**k, Cathy," he groaned, rubbing his sore chest. "What do you want?"

"My skateboard," I demanded impatiently. "It was in my room beside the door where I always leave it but it's not there. I know you took it again."

He scoffed and pushed aside his covers, swung his legs over, and planted his feet on the floor. "Why would I take it when I don't skate?" I stared at him with my eyebrows raised before he sighed and pointed to his closet. "I was using it to play darts."

I was in line to the closet when I froze, slowly reeling back to Kenny. "You were throwing darts at my skateboard?"

He raised his hands defensively. "I was drunk and bored and I had darts but no dartboard, so I figured-"

Grabbing my board, I stormed out of my i***t brother's room before the idea of murder became pleasant. There weren't any small holes on the underside, and my shoulders sagged with relief. Then I realized Kenny sucked at darts when he was sober, so there was no chance in hell that he was a professional when he was drunk.

I zipped up my jacket as soon as I met the cold, unforgiving wind. The weather had reported the chance of it being sunny and hot at eighty-six percent, but the cold wind nipping at my cheeks told me otherwise. I preferred the cold, anyway. The feeling of the wind blowing against my face and whipping my hair was euphoric, a pleasuring feeling I wouldn't trade for the world.

Planting my right foot in the middle of my skateboard, I pushed off with the other, gaining momentum as I soared down the driveway. I then tilted my body to the right before I met the curb. Both feet now on the board, one in front of the other, I rode down the sidewalk, aiming for the neighborhood park.

I had taught myself how to ride when I was little because I was influenced by Tony Hawk and Rodney Mullen. Mullen's tricks were what pulled me in, and I was inspired to reciprocate his tricks as well as create a few of my own. After begging my dad to buy me a kiddy skateboard, I practiced balancing and foot placement. When I turned six, I told my dad to buy me a real skateboard. To this day, I never parted from it as it was a keepsake of my treasured moments.

Usually I practiced my tricks at the local skatepark, but I took the day to ride around the neighborhood for a while. The breeze against my face gave me a warm, fuzzy feeling in the pit of my stomach.

The neighborhood park came into view. It only had a few swing sets and a dainty old slide that had a gaping hole as if a giant had taken a huge bite out of it. The main reason why it was still there was because of the large, empty field that laid behind it. It was once a baseball field with a black cage surrounding the perimeter, but now it was just an acre of land for public use. Picnics, family barbecues, and dog-walking often took place there, but sometimes I visited during the night to seek out the silence I missed during the day.

As I skated along the path that cut through the park and looped around the field, a football sailed over my head, nearly knocking me off balance.

"Nice going, idiot."

A group of guys was standing at the edge of the field. One guy smacked another upside the head, and I inwardly snorted. Getting off my board, I retrieved the ball and approached the silhouettes, counting four heads in total.

"It wasn't my fault!" the boy who had been hit protested, rubbing his head. "My hand cramped as I was throwing it."

"Stop jerking off so much-"

I caught the attention of Miles who's face softened into a warm smile. I suddenly wondered if he was always in such a positive mood.

"Got your ball," was all I said as I tossed it to him. He thanked me and threw it to the boy beside him.

The ginger from earlier stepped up to me. He wore short khakis and a collared shirt, taking the persona of a preppy kid. He had fashionable taste, and I knew because I was friends with an aspiring model who had exquisite taste in fashion. If the model gig didn't work out, she could start a career as a fashion designer.

"I'm Preston, and these are my stupid but highly entertaining friends, André and Eli. I presume you know Miles already."

I jutted my chin to André. "You're the kid who came in handcuffed."

He sighed dramatically and clasped his hands together. "What can I say? I like to make an entrance."

Miles shook his head. "Actually they just wanted to make sure he didn't do anything stupid like-"

"Set a car on fire," André finished. When no one laughed, he raised his hands. "Just kidding."

André's hair was out of its bun and dangled in loose, dark waves around his face. He was handsome like the rest of his friends with his squared jaw and pretty brown eyes. But it was obvious that he was a charmer as he kept winking flirtatiously at me.

"So you go to Marionne High, right?" Preston asked, and I nodded. "Is it always going to be like that?"

Miles must've seen the confusion on my face because he added, "He means with everyone whispering and gossiping all the time. Seems like that's all they ever do at that school."

I scoffed. "Because it is all they ever do. You guys are the first new transfers we've had since they built the school. You're like fresh meat to the social hierarchies in there."

"Okay, just so you know, I've never killed anyone," Miles informed me, and I laughed.

"I believe you. They make s**t like that up so they can have something to talk about. Spreading the same rumors about the same people every year gets boring."

My eyes shifted to the dark haired boy who hadn't said a word during the entire encounter. Eli was a bit taller than the rest. He had a muscular built to him, and I looked down at the football expertly gripped in his hand and figured he played sports or used to. He was wearing a black hoodie with dark jeans that hung low on his waist but didn't fall off his ass. I caught a quiet but deadly vibe from him, another "bad" boy characteristic I had learned to pick up.

"This is why I said I wanted to play soccer!" I blinked, looking back to André who was engaged in an argument with an annoyed-looking Miles.

"You said you wanted to play football," Miles corrected with a frown.

"No, I said fútbol. That translates to soccer."

"Why didn't you just say soccer?"

André huffed in frustration and stomped away. Preston chuckled quietly and shook his head but didn't follow him. I concluded that this was an everyday thing.

"What's your name?"

A deep voice beside me caused me to turn my head and lock eyes with Eli. Up close, I could see that he had gorgeous eyes as well, a dark brown that glimmered in the moonlight, adding on to his edginess. The front of his hair was swept back away from his forehead, and it looked as if it required a lot of tugging to keep the messy strands from falling out of place, which they still did unapologetically.

"Cathy."

His gaze lowered to the skateboard in my hand. "I don't know many girls who can skateboard, at least from where I'm from. Who taught you?"

"Myself."

That caused him to raise his eyebrows, impressed. "Damn. And I can't even toast bread correctly."

I snorted at that, a bit surprised that he had a sense of humor. I wasn't one to judge, but my speculation of him deemed him the opposite of an outgoing person. And maybe he wasn't. Maybe he was just comfortable enough to hold a conversation with me, another quiet person.

"It's pretty simple once you get the hang of it. Once you stop falling and learn how to balance, you're good to go."

"Can you teach me sometime?"

That threw me off, but I shrugged. "Sure."

After a while of squatting around with the guys, I decided it was time for me to head back home before my mom called for a manhunt. They waved goodbye and I returned the gesture. Placing my skateboard on the ground, I took off.

Only about a minute away from my house, my phone dinged, and I swiftly pulled it out of my back pocket. My screen lit up as I hit the power button. The message was from him, and I smiled, already knowing what he wanted.

Fck Buddy: Can I come over?

My reply was instant.

Door will be unlocked.

Grinning foolishly, I slipped my phone in my back pocket and kicked my leg out to push me forward, now more eager to get home.