Young Hearts (A LawRusso Story)

Chapter 1 -The move

The car engine was making a rather alarming noise when we finally rolled up in front of the white apartment complex. I was relieved, and a bit amazed, that the car had managed the long drive from New Jersey all the way to Los Angeles. It was an decrepit and unreliable 1969 Chevrolet Chevelle Malibu wagon that you had to push-start, in witch my mother had driven us to our new home in Reseda, California. My mother on the other hand, did not seem bothered at all by the car's exhausted grunts when she put it in park.

"Daniel, look of the starboard bow. Paradise at last!" She exclaimed gleefully.

I looked up at the building next to me, but could not match my mothers excitement. It was not the worst looking house in the neighborhood, but it was a lot more run down than our home back in Jersey. It was built in stone that used to be white, and in big, blue letters I could make out the script "South Seas" over the front gate.

"Come on." My mother said cheerfully and climbed out of the car. "This is it. This is the end of the line."

"You're telling me." I muttered, not loud enough for her to hear.

I knew we had to move here, due to my mothers new job, but I would lie if I said I was pleased with it. I did not want to leave my home, my friends and my school. I wanted more than anything to stay in Jersey. However, as a single mom, who never had a lot of money, there was no way my mother could have passed on this job. Not even if it meant she had to drag her 17-year-old son across the country for it. She had tried her best to keep a positive spirit about the move, and had told me about the palm trees and the apartment swimming pool about a thousand times. At this time I could not care less about some dumb palm trees, and not even a private Jacuzzi in my living room would change my mind about moving.

"Come on. All hands on deck." My mother called from outside the car as she started to unpack our stuff.

I sighed deeply, then put on a straight face and climbed outside to join her on the side walk. The air outside was sticky and sultry, and I could feel pearls of sweat form on my lower back.

"We've got to get this thing unloaded before it sinks." My mother continued in her humorous way, and I could not help but agree. The car might fall down flat on the ground any minute, due to the heavy packing.

The moving van had already driven our furniture over here, but my mother could not afford a second run so we had to take everything else in the car with us. We did not own a lot of things, but my mother had saved almost everything since my father died. She did not even have the heart to throw out the horrible porcelain clown my father had bought for their first home, which I thought would suit perfectly in a trash bag somewhere in the dessert.

I started with the task to untie my bike from the roof of the car. Since I did not have a drivers licence, I had to rely on my bike to get around. I avoided to let my mum drive me to places if I could. The 1969 piece of junk always drew a lot of attention to it, that I did not appreciate.

"Look at those palm trees!" My mother exclaimed as she lifted a big box from the back seat. "Damn, do you know what that means?" She asked with a big smile after dropping the box down on the ground.

"Yeah, watch out for falling coconuts." I muttered, still working on getting the bike loose from it's straps. I knew she would mention the palm trees a couple of more times at least.

"Wise guy." My mother playfully scolded me with a slap on my butt. "No more Newark winters!" She explained, stretching out her arms to really soak in the sun rays.

"I like winters." I lied, and put away the steps I just managed to undo.

Even though I did not love the winters back home, I would trade the cold to this sticky heat any day.

My mother kept trying to convince me how the new environment was much better then the one back home, as she walked up to the front gate. She even had time to mention the pool once again, before she informed me that we were in apartment 20 one flight up, and then disappeared behind the wooden wicket.

I hung a large coffert on the steering wheel of my bike, and led it towards what would now be my new home. I approached the wicket, and since I did not have any free hands, I quickly decided to kick the door open. It swung up but hit something with a bang, and to my horror I heard a yelp of pain. I had accidentally kicked it right in the face of a boy, around my age, who was just about to walk out of it.

"Are you okay?" I hurried to ask the boy who was now laying on his back, covering his forehead with his hand.

"Don't worry about it." He answered, his voice a bit strained.

"I should't have done that. It was stupid." I admitted, and leaned the bike to my side so I could use one of my hands to help him up.

The boy took my hand and repeatedly assured me not to worry about it.

"You must be the new people in 20, right?" He asked politely, still rubbing his forehead.

"Yeah, I guess so." I said, peering into the courtyard behind him.

"Freddy Fernandes." He introduced himself. "Apartment 17."

"Daniel LaRusso." I said back and shook his outstretched hand.

Freddy must have been 17 or 18 years old, but he looked like he might be older than that. He had black hair and dark eyes just like me, with tanned skin. He was short, shorter than me at least, but broader. I have always been kind of gangly, never had much control over my long arms and legs. Freddy looked buff, but covering his seemingly strong torso was the most ridiculous T-shirt. It had a print of a pig, humping another pig, with the words 'Making bacon' beneath it. The shirt was tucked into his high jeans, and he wore white nike sneakers. I also had white nikes on, but mine were so old and dirty that they were almost completely brown with mud.

Despite my refusal to let him help me, he grabbed the bag and started to walk back into the complex with me. Freddy continued to make friendly small talk as he led me along a row of green doors on the ground floor. I tried to be involved in the conversation with my new neighbor, but then I saw something that caught my attention.

"Is this the only pool you've got here?" I asked Freddy, looking down on the saddest excuse for a swimming pool I had ever seen in my life. Only about a foot of green, filthy water was covering the bottom of, the otherwise, deep pool. It did not look like it had been in order for several years.

"That's it." Shrugged Freddy. "What was that, karate?" He said, changing the subject.

I assumed he referred to when I almost gave him a concussion only a couple of minutes ago, and only answered with a vague "Um, yeah." Still eyeing the disappointment my mother had bragged about all summer.

"Have you been doing it long? Freddy asked, clearly interested.

"Yeah, a while." I simply answered, trying to figure out what excuse my mother would give for the condition of the wretched pool.

"Did you ever use it? I bet you could kick some ass! I'd like to learn that. Maybe you could teach me sometime." Freddy went on, not paying much attention to my answers.

We reached the staircase leading up to the second flight, and Freddy helped me carrying my bike up the steep, metal steps. It was noisy and rather timeworn, much like everything else around here.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" My new friend asked suddenly.

"I don't know." I answered truthfully. "I guess nothing."

The following day was a Sunday, the last day before the start of the new term and I did not now a single person here. What was I supposed to do?

"Hey, we're having a beach party." Freddy informed me. "Want to come?"

"Yeah sure, that's cool." I said.

Freddy was still a complete stranger and I had never really been to a beach party before, but I'd rather join him than staying at home with my mum the whole of Sunday. Plus he seemed friendly enough.

"Great! I'll come get you in the morning." Freddy said and led me to the green door with the number 20 written on it.

We said our goodbyes and I went inside, leaving my bike leaning on the wall right outside. I really needed to find a better place for it later, preferring somewhere on the ground floor.