(AN: Was gonna use this for school but I figured I'd post it instead. Tweet me what you think <3 Also, I'd encourage you to read it without any noise or background music. Focus while you're reading, feel the words. That way you'll get the most wanted reaction. Thankieees :>)
Curses, bike rings, wind
chimes of early morning restaurants, and the angry honks of taxi cabs trigger
the excitement of a brand new and typical New York day. You can sniff out the
burning rubber and the intoxicating smell of the mixture of busy people’s cheap
perfumes and sweat that haven’t been wiped off from the day before, as if
tomorrow can’t get enough of yesterday here in Manhattan. Along one of the streets of the
skyscraper-ridden city are two young boys whose mothers met at the hospital
they were born in.
“Look at it, Kevin.
Isn’t it beautiful?” One of them said, practically drooling in front of the
store, eyes locked on a hot-rod skateboard as if it was golden.
“Andy, if you’re going
to look at it any longer it just might melt.”
“Very funny.”
“I know.”
Andy rolled his eyes
and tapped his wallet in his back-pocket, “Oh if only I’d have enough spread
for that baby. I want that skateboard.” He pressed his face on the glass, “Look
at it, sitting there, mocking me to buy it. Oh if only I-“
“Yeah Mr. Glass-Face,
it’s not like we have school in 30 seconds or anything.” Kevin said as he
started to walk away. “Besides, you can never buy that. All my life I’ve lived
with you and you’ve never, ever, ever saved for something and succeeded.” Andy
raised his hood and sighed. He didn’t say anything until they arrived at
school.
“Andy! There’s a phone
call for you!”
Andy raced down the
stairs and snatched the phone from his mom’s hand.
“Manners, Andy.
Manners.”
“Sorry mom.” Andy chuckled
and attended to his call. “What’s up, Kev? Uh-huh. No, no not really. Alright,
I’ll be there. Bye, fart-brain.” He smirked at his own remark, he thought of
himself as the cleverest man in the world as he put down the phone.
“Goin’ somewhere?” his
mom called from the kitchen. “Yeah, gonna meet Kevin at the skateboard park.
Bye!” and Andy’s mother heard his son slam the door.
The park was empty,
just as Andy leisured. Kevin knew this, of course, that’s why he invited him.
As the Saturday night went by, the boys skated around to their hearts’ content
and afterwards paid a visit to the nearest yogurt shop.
As they slowly
skateboarded home, fingers sticky from the dripping yogurt sundaes, they happen
to pass by the shop that Andy was drooling ever the morning before. He quickly
went up to it and it was as if his eyes glistened over the store window and his
breath fogged over the glass.
“Hey Mr. Glass-Face,
you will never buy it I tell you.”
“You didn’t have to be
so encouraging.”
Kevin looked at him and
smirked. “What?” Andy replied, wide-eyed.
“Your sarcasm’s getting
better.”
“Thanks. Hey, wait a
minute, was that sarcasm too?”
But Kevin already skateboarded
away.
Monday came quickly.
The subways were once again filled, the newspapers were once again sold out,
and the fast food restaurants were once again in business. Weekends give a
refreshing veil all over New York, as if it was asleep for 48 hours.
Nevertheless both boys never really liked Mondays, and by tradition they always
wake up 20 minutes later than usual. Also by tradition, they always have
detention. At the end of the day they would peacefully skateboard home. But the
skies were dark that day, and it was as if fate was not being very friendly.
The boys were by the streets,
minding their own businesses, when a woman suddenly screamed at the other side
of the sidewalk.
A kid was chasing a
ball in the middle of the road.
And in the middle of
the road was a big pick-up truck speeding closer with wheels so high that the
driver could not see the innocent 4-year-old. By instinct, Kevin ran to the
middle and pushed the kid out of the way. And in an instant, Andy was losing
his best friend.
Beads of perspiration
were on Andy’s forehead, his thoughts rushing to his brain all at the same
time, crowding, screaming, and shouting. The siren and the slight sway by speed
of the ambulance were making him dizzy. His hand was on his best friend’s; he was
clenching it, caressing it. He whispers silent prayers of hope that was never
even there.
Kevin groaned. He
wanted to say something.
“Kevin, stay with me
bro. You don’t have to talk, just stay with me.”
With a slight tug on
his wrist made by his whimpering buddy beside him, Andy knew he had to remove
the oxygen mask off Kevin’s face.
“What is it buddy?”
Andy sniffed, holding back his tears.
“I…” Kevin blinked
extra hard and coughed up more blood, “I bought it…”
Andy could feel his
best friend’s hand weakening its grip and he whispered, “Don’t do this to me
buddy, you have promises. You promised to teach me how to do sarcasm, remember?
Please, man.” His tears fought their way out. “Please.”
Kevin, with all his
injured might, forced himself to get as close as possible to Andy’s face. “For
you…”
He inhaled his last, “I
bought it for you…”
Andy closed his eyes as
hard as he could, he imagined it all to be a dream, and he would wake up to his
bedroom, pick up his phone and text his daily morning insults to Kevin. There
was no kid, there was no pick-up truck, and there was no ambulance. But when he
opened them, he drowned in misery to realize that Kevin was gone.
“No!”
Years passed by, and
Andy grew up to be a dashing young man. He went to college, graduated and moved
to California. He had the most amazing life he could ever dream of. People
would look at him and think that he was a man who never experienced sadness.
But they have no idea.
It has been 15 years
since he decided to set foot on New York soil again. He went to his mother
first and had all the proper long time greetings. “Goin’ somewhere?” His
mother, now old and frail, asked jokingly. When her son replied with a door
slam that echoed all across the house, she knew he still hasn’t changed.
The wind chimes made a
rusty sound as he entered the same store that he drooled over 15 years ago. It
seemed rather forgotten, lost for the past 15 years.
A sly boy, about more
or less 19 years of age approached him, “Something I can do for you, mister?” He
eyed Andy. “You’re not from around here are you?”
“I used to be. What’s
your name?”
“Tim. Although people
like to call me TSB; short for The Saved Boy.” He chuckled.
“The Saved Boy?”
“Yeah, 15 years ago a
fella named Kevin saved me from being squashed by a truck. He died because of
it.”
Andy gulped, “Do you
know any more of this Kevin guy?”
“All I know is that he had a best friend named Andy. I heard he
moved to California or something. Anyway, I always hated myself for Kevin
dying. It was my entire stupid fault.”
“I’m sure Kevin
wouldn’t want you to hate yourself.”
“How would you know?”
“My name’s Andy.”
Tim’s mouth dropped to
the floor. Without a word he immediately ran to the back of the store and came
back with a wrapped box. It was dusty and the print was turning yellowish.
“This is for you.” He whispered.
Andy took it with
slight doubt and started to unwrap it. What was inside was something he never
expected. It was the hot-rod skateboard he always wanted, brand new and
unscratched even from age. He couldn’t believe his eyes.
With the box was a
note that said:
Hey Mr. Glass-Face, I told you you’d
never buy it.
“What’s that supposed to
mean, Andy?” Tim said from curiosity.
“He bought it for me.”
