This is just something from off the top of my head. I'm open for ideas for the next chapter though. Any opinions, ideas, criticisms, questions, etc... Put them in the comments! Thanks guys
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My world fell apart three months ago.
It all started in December. I was moving from Memphis, Tennessee to the hustle and bustle of new York city. My adopted 'dad,' Jonas, had just been promoted to the NYC district manager of his construction firm, Martins and Kalem, inc. My skate crew followed our loaded pickup, some hitching onto the back of the orange and white u-haul trailer, their skateboards swerving with every turn. We reached the city limit. They skidded to stops. Jacob "jake brake" bracken, Andrew "Sixx" silver, Dani Lightwin, and my oldest, closest friend, Jannika Delgood all waved their farewells, and made sure they texted me as soon as they couldn't see the taillights. At least my Facebook would keep me updated on the events of my home, and my world. Soon, I passed out in the passenger seat, my earphones still jacked into my head like antennae.
"S*it!" I woke up with a start as I felt the truck slide into the left lane of the interstate. "As*hole!" Jonas was yelling. A huge semi truck had just cut us off apparently, and I guess our brakes worked fine, because I realized I was halfway out of my seat, the seat belt up around my chest. "What the hell, Jonas?'' He glanced over, and his mouth cracked into this sarcastic smirk. "What? Seatbelts work. Kid, be thankful this rust heap has brakes." I grimaced. I pushed myself up back into the seat. I had only been with this guy seven months since he adopted me and already we had an... Interesting relationship.
Maybe I should start off with who the hell I am to be telling you all this. I'm Hunter Swenson, but I go by just Hunt. I'm your average skater punk I guess, straight black hair covering my eyes, blonde highlights streaked throughout, my bright green eyes mottled with hazel. I have green spikes protruding from the backs of my semi hidden ears. I usually wear long sleeves, under a tshirt, dark colors mostly. My skinny jeans always have some sort of chain dangling from them, and I could be considered punk, emo, dark, whatever. Depends on who I'm with. Jonas on the other hand was country to the bone. From the camo hat on his crew cut head, to the boots he never went anywhere without, and the buck knife on his leather belt, he was "redneck" at it's finest. But he was cool.
Another few hours of blank highway, and I began to see signs of civilization again. A couple northern ranch houses here and there, then suburbs, finally, I saw a skyline. The towers of the city were behemoths. I instantly began to feel claustrophobia and paranoia seeping into my blood. I glanced at Jonas, who's eyes were glued to the slowly advancing traffic. In contrast to the speeds of which we handled the interstates, the entry road into the "grand" city of new York was... Stuck. I looked at him, asked for an address of our new apartment, and opened my gps app. I stepped out of the truck, nearly hitting a man that looked like he was coated in a layer of oil. I kept walking, saw Jonas looking, and walked further. I didn't have any clue that the man I had nearly bumped was homeless. I had never seen a homeless person before. Where we lived, everyone had a home. People were either with friends or family, or the local churches and schools gave shelter. Since the members of our average-sized town really didn't know riches, they also really didn't know poverty. I would learn later that this definitely wouldn't be my last run in with people who had nothing, or less.
