DISCONTINUED

XII: Connor Shows Off

The skate park wasn't a huge deal.

Built in cement hills and steep slopes, set in a lower middle class neighborhood, it stood unceremoniously. Graffiti stained the walls and floors, marking it with livelihood and the others' presence there. Semi-closed, part of it was set under a parking lot. Connor told me that through the east, a tunnel connected it to an abandoned construction site, where he liked to go and climb.

He lived two streets down the park, and his brother often hung out with his friends there. I could see why. It was a nice place, calm sort of ambience in all the noise.

By the time we'd gotten there, it was already five forty, and the sun already started to set, dimming Manhattan's blue sky in a grayish orange. People started returning from their jobs, filling the streets with their tired steps.

In the park, a group of teens sat by a table, some looking at the stunts an older boy performed, and others laughing as they talked on the floor. Connor pointed at them.

"That's my brother there!" he exclaimed, before dragging me to the group of people enthusiastically. "Travis!"

Travis looked almost identical to Connor, honestly. I mean, Travis' build was a bit more accentuated, and he was an inch shorter than Connor, but beside that, they practically looked like twins. That day, the scratch across Travis' cheek was pretty much the only thing that allowed me to differentiate them.

He sat on the table, his feet set on the bench. Travis wore a red Yankee cap facing back, flattening his hair. In his hands, he held a coca-cola can, which he set down upon hearing his name.

"Baby bro!" he exclaimed, cackling, as he rotated his entire body to face us. "Connor, I see you've brought your–"

He was cut off by the sole of Connor's shoe meeting with his face, and whatever he was about to say was muffled.

"Kill yourself, Travis." Connor smiled, waving at the other kids as his brother clutched to his own nose. He put a hand on my back. "This is Erica, a friend from summer camp."

"Damn, if even Connor is pulling from that summer camp, I might sign up!" a guy whistled, jumping up from the bench to shake my hand. "I'm Kenny, how'd you do?"

I took his hand, laughing as I tightened my grip. Kenny had at least five piercings on his face, without counting his earrings. His braids swinged and touched his neck when he moved, the ends bleached.

"Firm handshake, dude." he said, without letting go, nodding with an ear-to-ear smile. "We have a lot in common, damn. We should for real get together, girl."

"Oh, for sure." I smirked, drawing some laughs from Travis and his friends. "I doubt you can handle me, to be honest."

The boy shrugged, and as I tightened more, he took back his hand finally.

"Ow!" he yelped, trying to shake the pain from his hand. The group scoffed and chuckled, and a girl threw an empty bag of chips to his face. "Why you throwing stuff at me, fuckface?"

"Kevin here is a bit of a bitch, don't mind him." Connor laughed, while Travis threw a can of soda at me. "When are you seven dirtbags taking off?"

Travis stood up on the table, raising his hands as if Connor had offended him greatly. His eyebrows were raised, and he sneered exaggeratedly before starting to speak.

"My gods, Connor... You won't even introduce our friends to Erica????" he fanned his own face, as if he was a Victorian lady about to faint. "Do you not value us??? Oh lord, oh lord! Ungrateful boy!"

A tan girl with lustrous dyed pink and green locks that went down till her waist jumped up to the table, joining Travis. Her long gel nails clacked when she spoke, making it seem as if it were there to emphasize it more.