Free Falling *Discontinued*

2|Burnt Toast

"Kenny, where's my skateboard?"

The sleeping boy grunted and rolled over, revealing his naked torso. For a minute I thought he was awake, but a loud and abrupt snore tore through the room like an avalanche. I smacked him on the chest, and his eyes shot open.

"Fuck, Cathy," he groaned, rubbing his sore chest. "What do you want?"

"My skateboard," I demanded impatiently. "It was in my room beside the door where I always leave it but it's not there. I know you took it again."

He scoffed and pushed aside his covers, swung his legs over, and planted his feet on the floor. "Why would I take it when I don't skate?" I stared at him with my eyebrows raised before he sighed and pointed to his closet. "I was using it to play darts."

I was in line to the closet when I froze, slowly reeling back to Kenny. "You were throwing darts at my skateboard?"

He raised his hands defensively. "I was drunk and bored and I had darts but no dartboard, so I figured-"

Grabbing my board, I stormed out of my idiot brother's room before the idea of murder became pleasant. There weren't any small holes on the underside, and my shoulders sagged with relief. Then I realized Kenny sucked at darts when he was sober, so there was no chance in hell that he was a professional when he was drunk.

I zipped up my jacket as soon as I met the cold, unforgiving wind. The weather had reported the chance of it being sunny and hot at eighty-six percent, but the cold wind nipping at my cheeks told me otherwise. I preferred the cold, anyway. The feeling of the wind blowing against my face and whipping my hair was euphoric, a pleasuring feeling I wouldn't trade for the world.

Planting my right foot in the middle of my skateboard, I pushed off with the other, gaining momentum as I soared down the driveway. I then tilted my body to the right before I met the curb. Both feet now on the board, one in front of the other, I rode down the sidewalk, aiming for the neighborhood park.

I had taught myself how to ride when I was little because I was influenced by Tony Hawk and Rodney Mullen. Mullen's tricks were what pulled me in, and I was inspired to reciprocate his tricks as well as create a few of my own. After begging my dad to buy me a kiddy skateboard, I practiced balancing and foot placement. When I turned six, I told my dad to buy me a real skateboard. To this day, I never parted from it as it was a keepsake of my treasured moments.

Usually I would practice my tricks at the local skatepark, but I took the day to ride around the neighborhood for a while. The breeze against my face gave me a warm, fuzzy feeling in the pit of my stomach.

The neighborhood park came into view. It only had a few swing sets and a dainty old slide that had a gaping hole as if a giant had taken a huge bite out of it. The main reason why it was still there was because of the large, empty field that laid behind it. It was once a baseball field with a black cage surrounding the perimeter, but now it was just an acre of land for public use. Picnics, family barbecues, and dog-walking often took place there, but sometimes I visited during the night to sought out the silence I missed during the day.

As I skated along the path that cut through the park and looped around the field, a football sailed over my head, nearly knocking me off balance.

"Nice going, idiot."

A group of guys were standing at the edge of the field. One guy smacked another upside the head, and I inwardly snorted. Getting off my board, I retrieved the ball and approached the silhouettes, counting four heads in total.

"It wasn't my fault!" the boy who had been hit protested, rubbing his head. "My hand cramped as I was throwing it."

"Stop jerking off so much-"