RED PARALLEL

Chapter 17: Big Bro

(Nate)

The battle was next Saturday. At Levion, this time.

According to Traviz, that would be thrilling, because everyone at Levion was beyond dope. They were inspiring, cool, funny, and all that. But the kid also loved the streets. He seemed free, delighted with the awe from the people who would stop by, impressed by his talent. So wherever the place, Traviz was in.

"'Cause I'm the shit," the had said once.

But Levion's battles were systematic and competitive. People came from other schools to get the first place. Not the second, not the third. There would be no amateurs, no jokes.

"Nate, you're exaggerating," Aaron said. "It ain't like that..."

"You wanna make the Tiger get in the game, drop serious shit. Otherwise, he ain't gonna make it."

"You'll scare him."

"And that's nice. Fear makes us move."

"Yo, you look like a sensei. That's why you're the leader of our shit, right?"

"Exactly. And do me a favor. Make him sleep before three in the morning, please. He has school-"

"Fuuuck school... He doesn't need it."

"Ars."

"Okay, okay... We'll take care of the Golden Kid. Haha, that's nice... Golden Kid... He's gonna love it."

"He has enough ego, just don't."

"Nate, you're so boring."

Not that Traviz was The Crib's new superstar. But it was close to that. In less than one year, he had sucked The Crib's vibe like a sponge. With his 'Imma mimic every dancer in this shit' mania, he had reached the status of 'the best kid in the hood'. His memory was impressive. He would not pay attention to most trivial shits in the world, like which time he should really get out of bed, but dance moves made his eyes grow big. And he would battle with everyone. Such a deadpan. And he would win most of them. And if he didn't, he would call out for another until he won.

"People might not like if you keep stealing their moves."

"I ain't stealing! I'm doing it better."

"Oookay..."

"I just steal b-sodas..."

"What?"

"Nothing."

Traviz had a tendency to crook the steps and add too much breaks and swings. He would make everything dirtier. Moving too much, balancing too little.

"Listen. I don't think you're doing it better. You're damn clumsy. Look at your feet. You're like this, pointing them this away. It's weird."

"It's not! And I'm not clumsy!"

"Yes, you aaare."

"Nah."

"I know what I'm talking about. I'm from Levion."

"Blah blah. My style is different."

It was his excuse for doing whatever he wanted. He claimed that he had a style. He would 'steal' things from other people and put them in a blender and splash them around. But one day, Nate saw Traviz sitting at the sofa with that silent face that something was bothering him to his core.

"Nate."

"Hm."

"I got a problem."

"I can see."

"Hm?"

"Never mind. What is it?"

"I think I broke my foot."