Prologue

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Part One: This is my sky.

“God damn it,” I muttered under my breath with annoyance, folding my left leg underneath my knee I’ve just scratched. I looked around with an irritated, pained gaze, spotting my red-yellow-green board still rolling on the ground, away from me. I groaned, perceiving that I will have to make the effort to grasp that patch of wood before it gets hit by a car.

Turning my attention to the bleeding knee, I suddenly became aware of the stinging sensation created by having ripped open my bare skin. In addition to that, the unhygienic dust on the ground was now on the wound, pointing out into little areas of redness and blood.

My mouth cursed again (I swear it wasn’t me), a little louder, as I leant over to nurse the new bloody achievement – literally. I couldn’t believe this happened now, exactly now, at this exact trick.

Believe me, one of the best feelings as a skater is injuring yourself with old known schemes you’ve practised your whole life... I remembered Adam’s words, back when he’d broken his hand with an ollie. I do believe you, brother, I believe you now.

I heard another pair of wheels grazing the asphalt. “Shit,” I cursed again. I let my eyes gaze up to look for the new spectator of the scene; at least he hadn’t assisted at the fail I have just performed. A fucking kickflip I couldn’t do! (Well, it was still better than breaking your hand over an ollie, but...)

As the upcoming board got closer in gaze, I realised it held no one else but Alex. I know he saw my new injure, and I know he figured it was because of my lack of balance (and my skillful two left feet). As he was scraping the ground towards me, he managed to lean down and pick up my board. I got up, biting my lip in order to ignore the discomfort created by overlapping the fresh wound. I avoided looking the blond into the eyes as he passed me my rasta-coloured skateboard. Without any other word, I started skating away from him (and the stairs I had tried to kickflip over).

“You’re welcome,” he shouted from behind. Yeah, thanks, but I’m too ashamed to say that.

Before I could tell, Alex was already in line with me, lightly dashing the concrete with his left foot, pushing himself onto his dark-blue, very handsome board. We didn’t need any GPS or further talking about the location we were headed towards, both of us knew it was the skatepark – the lovely, famous skatepark we spend every single day in.

“I haven’t seen you this noon,” I remarked, knowing that I’ve been out since 9 am, as the no-lifer that I’m trying not to be.

“I just arrived,” he explained, soon adding, “I was doing homework.”

“Math?” I tried to continue the conversation – not that I cared too much.  

“And English, History of Art, and Biology; I finished everything for this week.”

Apparently, I was the only one trying not to sound like a desperate student, even though I’m doing just as much schoolwork as he is. With that, I don’t mean that he is desperate. He just ditched going out with the gang because of homework; that makes him stupid, not nerdy.

“Oh,” my subconscious blurted; I had forgotten about Biology.

We were already skating through the gates of the park, towards the loud guys who had just acknowledged our presence, so I quickly said “Good for you,” and ended the conversation. Although we’ve never really discussed it properly, I’m sure both of us agree that it’s better if the subject ‘school’ stays only between me and him.

I flicked up my board harshly when we got near the ramps, and almost haven’t noticed Silver right next to us, making sudden moves and hitting Alex in the back. “Oi Milk, where’ve you been?”

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