Gracie and I will walk to school, rain or shine, with an abundance of kids our age that reside at Walter Tide Apartment Homes. Our tiny complex is old with smaller upgrades here and there. We have a playground for the little kids, a tiny pool that mostly moms and their babies play in, and a trail that wanders through the woods. Sometimes, I'll take a walk through the woods until it reaches the graffiti wall that Trevor, Damian, and I call The Monument.
The Monument acquired its name for a few reasons. Trevor tells this story better than I do, but I'll do my best. Imagine a lone, cement wall in the middle of the woods with a brilliant portrait of Martin Luther King Jr., Flannery O'Connor, Jimmy Carter, Jackie Robinson, Sequoyah, and so many more historical figures from Georgia. Okay, that's the basic gist of The Monument as a visual, but that isn't why we have given it the esteemed honor of "monument." The Monument is also the same place that Trevor lost his virginity, and I am destined to do the same according to his so-called "prophecy." There isn't a real prophecy. Trevor lives in a reality where anything that he does is considered normal whereas Damian is the pure one amongst the three of us. Therefore, I am normal just like Trevor which means I will follow in his footsteps. Trevor is also the same person who created a channel on H-Chat which is filled with so much pornography that Pornhub.com probably needs to step in for copyright infringement.
Walter Tide has eight buildings on its property that Don operates very well considering its responsibilities. My mom has a great relationship with him, and everyone on the property enjoys talking to him when they get a chance. The best part about Walter Tide, aside from being comfortable, is that Trevor and Damian live within walking distance. It's sort of like having neighbors except they're a couple miles down the road. Trevor and Damian have bikes which helps a lot, but we usually just meet at The Monument.
The sidewalk wraps around the apartment complex and leads us down a dodgy part of town according to the popular kids at school. From my perspective, it's the only interesting part of Atlanta where rich people haven't built an unsustainable amount of designer homes and apartment complexes. Yes, controversial opinion, but this area is my home. When I look out my window, the view reminds me of what I have to be thankful for. No, not your typical teenage opinion, so I'll explain.
Slidell Street is a community of immigrants, mom and pop shops, and broke kids like myself. Other kids my age play basketball, ride bikes, skateboard, and trade various collectibles for fun or to simply barter favors from one another. The older kids, recent graduates or drop outs, like to sneak away into the strip clubs and get into trouble in whatever ways they can find. A purple neon sign from the Cuban restaurant that reads, "Para Amigos". It sheds 80% of its light into my bedroom at night, but it's the part that I think of the most when I imagine this little part of home. One purple light on a quiet street.
[bloop.]
My phone vibrates in my pocket. It's Damian.
It's also 12:36PM on a Saturday.
H-Chat opens.
[True_Light is online]
[Sails is online]
True_Light: wanna hang?
Sails: where at?
True_Light: Monument? My place? Doesn't matter to me
Sails: I'll come to you. I need advice.
True_Light: Let me guess...Rainfall again?
Sails: Yeah, but this time is different. I think I remember something that might be able help us search her.
True_Light: Aight. See you.
[True_Light is offline]
[Sails is offline]
