𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑，𝑐𝑜𝑏𝑟𝑎 𝑘𝑎𝑖

three | salt & vinegar chips

Dad paces the empty living room, his phone pressed against his ear as he drags a hand down his face. "It's been almost a month." He says.

I watch him carefully as he sighs. "Well, how much longer is it going to be? Wait- a week! No, I-" Ken paces faster as his correspondent speaks on the other side of the line. "I can't. Listen, my kids are sleeping on the floor right now, we don't even—... I-. Yes. Yes, I understand. Thank you."

He hangs up and I snap my head back down.

"The moving van won't be here until the end of the week." He finally tells me.

"Oh," Is all I can think to say as I push myself off the ground. "I'm going out. I'll be back later."

Ken doesn't even try to argue. We both know it's not him I'm mad at. I'm mad at the whole situation. The moving van- the one that has all our stuff -got lost and hasn't been here in nearly a month. Now I have to wait even longer for a comfortable bed.

I walk outside, taking my skateboard with me even though I don't feel much like riding right now. Instead, I walk over to the strip mall down the street and go straight for the convenience store in the corner.

The bell above the door chimes as I walk in, but the pudgy man behind the counter doesn't so much as flinch at the arrival of a new customer. I can hardly blame him. Even though this is a step up from our old place, there's no denying it's still a shithole.

I scour the short aisles of chips, candy, jerky, and other small things. Coolers line either wall with a variety of drinks, ranging from sodas to liquor. I settle for a bag of Salt & Vinegar chips, and taking a quick glance up at the counter to make sure the clerk isn't looking, I slip a packet of M&M's down my bra.

I toss the bag of chips and a water on the counter when I make it there, glaring at the chubby man behind it. He glances at me, slowly inputting the information into his register.

"Can you hurry up?" My fingers curl around my board just as the bell rings and a rambunctious group of teens jump through the door. I groan. "Please?"

He looks at me, deliberately going slower just to piss me off. I groan as the group of four fills the store aisles, stocking up on snacks and soft drinks. I huff.

A moment later, a boy is beside me, setting a large case of beer on the counter. I feel his eyes on me but I don't dare turn to look at him.

Slowly, the man across from me slides my bag of chips and water bottle across the counter toward himself. "That'll be 7.49."

I reach for my pocket, grabbing a wrinkled ten, and slapping it onto the counter. As the man rings me up, the boy beside me leans in closer.

"'Sup?" He bobs his head up, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed.

I shift my glare toward him. "Fuck off," I tell him flatly, turning back to the store clerk. He's slower than a turtle on morphine. "Jesus, go a little faster, will you, humpty dumpy?" The man's gaze flicks up and back down as he moves at a snail's pace. "Holy fuck..." I grumble.

The kid beside me snickers. He can be no older than eighteen yet he's buying beer. I put two and two together, concluding that he must have a fake. He's a little taller than me, dressed in streetwear, with a spikey blue mohawk and a scar on his upper lip.

He's still staring at me when I turn to look at him again. My gaze flicks up and down, studying him closely. On the outside, he looks tough, but that only tells a person so much.

He smirks. "See something of interest."

"I don't see much of anything," I scoff, holding my chin up a little higher.

The cashier finally puts my snack and drink back on the counter and hands over my change. I snatch it, shoving it into my pocket as I toss the other stuff into my bag.

"Nice lip," I add, brushing his shoulder as I walk past him.

I throw my skateboard down the second I'm outside, digging my foot into the concrete to push off. I skate down the sidewalk, past the karate dojo located in the strip mall. It preys on the old memories I have buried deep in the banks of my remembrance. Memories I now fight to push back down.

"Taekwondo is not Karate, child..."

The words from my former sen— friend, replay in my head. Captured from a memory long ago in a time I can no longer go back to. I shake the thought from my head, skating away from the building.

I combed around town for a while now, and have finally found a good place to skate. A half trashy skate park that not many people visit and considering I have a free Saturday, I decide to hit the ramps. My interest in skating is back now, due to how it normally is after a while away from home.

I'm glad to be out. In typical Miles fashion, he's already managed to find a group of friends. I don't know how he does it. I can never seem to find people to talk to. However, looking back on my conversations with both Robby and that mohawk kid, I can see how my personality may be off-putting to others.

It doesn't take me long to get to the skate park from my house. Maybe fifteen to twenty minutes at max. The second I'm there, I relish in the breath of fresh air I'm finally able to take. Skate parks, no matter where they are, have always been my safe haven.

Miles refuses to step near one, and Ken never quite had an interest in my little hobby.

I begin with the easy stuff, going up and down ramps to warm up and doing a few tricks— all of which I've learned on my own. Like most things in my life.

I'm not the best skateboarder in the world, but at least I can roll without faceplanting— most of the time.

After I muster up the courage, I stand at the top of the bowl, looking down into it as I suck in a breath. You got this, Rhys, I tell myself, you're last name's Steel for a reason.

I push off the edge, feeling my skateboard go down the steep ramp. My eyes narrow in focus. I know where I'm going and what I'm doing, but this is where I lose my confidence. My stomach drops as I go down, quickly picking up speed.

Focus. Breath. Concentrate. Visualize yourself going back up the—

In hindsight, I should really invest in knee and elbow protection.

I lose my balance, fall off my board, and slide across the concrete on my bare arms and legs. I hiss in pain as my body skids to a stop at the bottom of the bowl and halfway across it.

Fuck...

"Whoa!" Someone yells.

I look up, locking eyes with an all-too-familiar pair of pale green ones.

Double Fuck.