Carpe Tenebras: VI
Weaving through pedestrians, I made my way to the semi-famous intersection. I screeched to a halt so that I wouldn’t miss the crosswalk button. Since I’d never moved since I was one, I’d memorized the pattern of the lights and when the bird would start squawking to let everyone know it was time to cross. Luckily for me, it was on the fifth and final light when I arrived. Not four seconds after I’d pressed the white protrusion, I was able to bike across the intersection safely.
I contemplated taking the hard way, up the steep main road to the right, just for a challenge. Deciding against it, my handlebars took me to the left over level terrain. I passed some “gangstas”, dressed in clothes that looked like they were 10 sizes too big. Although I myself wore baggy jeans and sweatshirts, I didn’t go that overboard. Usually, my clothes were only one or two sizes larder than me. I always tried to prevent looking like a child in my chubby dad’s clothes.
My route took me past Sin-seared, the local steakhouse and creamee joint. The luscious scents that wafted from that place made my mouth water as I sped by. Most of my classmates had waited tables there as their first payroll job. It was either work at Sin-seared or China’s Deli, both owned by Jimmy China, whose son, Billy, went to school with me. Billy was the heir to the local throne but he didn’t seem at all excited or even grateful. I’m always amazed at what people take for granted.
Ten minutes after my departure from home, I reached Carla’s street. She had a beautiful neighborhood, the kind I’d always wanted to live in. Her neighbors were nice, kids played together in the streets while their parents sat with each other on the nearest porch; no one ever blasted music or cursed loudly at each other. It was peaceful, something I’d never lived around. Everyone I considered my friend lived in similar neighborhoods and I was envious of everyone of them.
Soon, I was in Carla’s driveway. I had to pedal around to the backyard. Even though we’d probably come back out in five minutes, I was programmed into paranoia from living around my neighbors for so long. Standing my bike up with the kickstand, I circled back around to the front of the house. I rang the doorbell, waiting for Carla’s thundering footsteps as she galloped down the stairs. My ears were not disappointed.
As always, she opened the door with a smile and a “hey!”.
“Longfoot?” I questioned. Longfoot was one of the town’s elementary schools, very close to Carla’s house. We went practically every time I was over. We’d sit on the swings or lay in the epicenter of the play structure. And talk. Since we hardly ever saw each other otherwise, Longfoot was our time to catch up.
“Yeah. You want a water bottle?” Luckily, I had one on my bike from the night before. I shook my head, waving her off. While she put on her sneakers, I waited outside on the porch. My computer applications teacher (also my mom’s best friend’s sister) casually strolled down the sidewalk I was facing. I saw her start to turn her head to look my way so I suddenly whipped out my cell phone and pretended to be busy texting. However much I like her, seeing a teacher during the summer was awkward, no matter whom it was.
Carla came out and we snatched our bikes from the backyard. Neither of us wore helmets, much to my mother’s dismay. Carla’s parents didn’t seem to care, as protective as they were. After a single nod to each other, we rode off to the playground.
