The Rules

Chapter FOUR

Game sat on his clean, white bed, in his large, clean room. In his hands was his beautifully engraved, chrome alarm clock. Watching the seconds tick by, he counted. Ten, nine, eight, seven, Game set the clock gently on his bedside table and walked over to the window, four, he gripped the handle on the window and pushed the small button, two, one.

Game yanked the handle upwards, pushed the window open, and leapt out. He landed perfectly, just behind the Gardeloras. Gardeloras represented secrets. Game thought of the Gardelora flowers as his own secrets; one head for each secret he kept from his family. He sunk his hands into the rich, moist soil, which had been watered just minutes ago, pulled them out and rubbed them together. He sprinkled dirt all over himself. Rubbed it into his hair, his skin, his clothes.

 A chain rattled. One, two, three short rattles. One long rattle. The signal for the all clear. Game raced across the large garden lawn and slipped through the bars of the wrought iron gates. Freedom. Game relished every night he went out to meet Cessa and the others. Cessa reckoned the two of them very good friends, but they really didn't know that much about each other. For example: Cessa didn't know that Game actually lived in the main city in a huge mansion and had billionaires for parents, and Game didn't know that Cessa actually lived in one of the dirtiest flats in the poorest part of the slums in the city outskirts.

Game loved the motorbike ride over to the streets almost as much as he hated school. No one appreciated the talent there. Sure, people applauded the brains people had and all the geeky science stuff, but no one give a second glance at the amazing gymnasts, spontaneous artists, the hip-hop dancers, the guys who mixed the beats. Game was proud of himself for managing to obtain a motorbike on his own, for learning how to ride it on his own, finding a safe place to stash it on his own, finding his way to the streets on his own.

He didn't need to worry about the dangers of the streets. If you had a bike like his and you looked true street, people would stay out of your way. Only a fool would dare challenge someone with a bike like that. Because any way for a street kid to get a bike like Game's was tough and anyone who could was dangerous. But Game wasn't really all that dangerous and getting the bike wasn't all that tough, because he had money and status. Or rather, Trevor Irioné had money and status. Game was just a street kid who had been abandoned by his mother who had killed his father, a story not that different from others on the streets.

Parking his bike at Big Sal's garage, Game rushed over to Don's, past Beater and down to the cellar. To his surprise, Cessa had already arrived. Cessa was usually much later than everyone else, giving them all time to practice and for the others to talk about her behind her back. Game usually stayed out of those talks and waited for Cessa. He always chalked her cue, but she always chalked it again after he passed it to her.

"Game!" Cessa's face lit up as she saw him, but then immediately fell. "I was just tellin' everyone. I'm movin'."

Game was shocked into silence. After several seconds, he regained the ability to speak. "What? Where?"

"Ta tha main city. You know how my dad came yestaday? He said he wants ta take all a us - me, Vic and Ri - ta tha city. Send us ta school and shit."

"Cessa..." Game was suddenly overwhelmed by sadness. How would he ever find her again? She was 50% of the reason he came here. As one may have already figured out, Game had feelings for Cessa. Feelings he wasn't sure he should show, as every teen crush goes. She wouldn't go to the school he went to, only really posh people went there, people with money, or scholarship people, but Cessa hadn't anyone to go to for a scholarship, no records to show. It was a one in a million chance that they'd bump into each other in the city. Game would just have to keep coming here in case Cessa decided to visit once in a while.

"I be comin' back now and again. Dad says he's gettin' me a bike. Like yours, Game. So I can come here whenever I want. I'll try ta make it every night, don't worry." Cessa wanted to try the same thing Game was already doing. But Cessa didn't know her way here, she'd get lost. Game could help her... But no. Game had a secret to keep. Even from Cessa. She'd turn her back on him once she found out he was one of those people. The rich kids in the city. What's worse is that Game was the richest kid in the city. Cessa was going to hate him. But what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

Game nodded, turned and left. He ran to Big Sal's garage and unchained his bike. Mel, Big Sal's wife, was surprised to see him there so early in the night. "Game! Why yo back so soon?"

Game shrugged and replied, "Bad competition." He revved his motorbike up and sped away.

<<=+=>>

After a few rounds of the city, Game finally slowed down outside his house. He had never come home this early. What if the guards would be there? Game decided not to risk it and ran a couple more rounds of the city, coming to rest in the park by the fountain. A stray cat mewed somewhere off to the left of him, followed by light footsteps. Game looked around without moving his head or body. A jade green dress, black pumps, white socks.

"Hey," a high, but surprisingly strong, voice echoed in the empty park. "Do you need a place to stay?"

Game suddenly realized he was still in his street clothes. He couldn't let her see his face: what if she recognized him? He disguised his voice into a gravelly low tone. "I'm fine, thanks," he said bluntly.

"Are you sure?" the girl asked. "You look like you need a wash."

"I said I'm fine. Thank you," Game said a little more forcefully.

"Well, okay."

A few seconds later, Game heard the light footsteps retreating. He released a heavy sigh, stood, mounted his motorbike, and sped away, to the Irioné mansion. Game quickly slipped between the bars of the gate and sneaked into the garden shed where his bedclothes lay. Game tore off his street clothes, washed off the dirt with the pipe behind the bushes and put on the bedclothes. When 3 short rattles and once long rattles of the chain was heard, Trevor tiptoed quickly to the wall under his bedroom window and climbed the trellis up to the window. He nearly let go of the ledge when he hoisted himself up through the window, but managed to cling onto the trellis.

He looked up to see the face of his sister, the dim garden lights illuminating her threatening smirk. "Where have you been, Trevor?"