Hand Me Downs.

I stood outside my childhood house, the one I was now leaving. It looked a lot bigger all of a sudden, the sun just coming up over the edge of the roof. I smiled at the memories of climbing out onto the ledge with my brother and listening to him play his guitar. There was a part of me that would miss Arizona and an even bigger part of me that was going to miss the boys, John more than the others obviously. I knew they were what I needed, a big part of me knew that they meant well, that they just loved me; but the other half of me, or my friends, I never really knew, thought that they were just trouble, they were taking away the things that meant the most to me. Or I thought. I shook the thoughts out of my head and hopped on my skateboard, heading towards the train station. I was in one of John's old over sized sweaters and a pair of skinny black jeans, it was colder then usual in October in Arizona. I had my money in my backpack, as well as my cellphone and my laptop. I finally reached the train station and walked down the steps to go inside and headed to the ticket box.
"Hello honey," the older lady working said, she smiled a genuine smile and I offered one in return, although mine wasn't as genuine. "What can I help you with today?" Her thick accent made me smile, thinking of my mom.
"One ticket for Boston, Massachusetts, please?" I asked, getting my money out of my bag and holding it in my hand, she looked up at me with a curious look but continued to print the ticket out.
"Twenty seven eighty eight," she mumbled, taking my money through the small window and handing me the ticket. I smiled before I walked towards were I needed to wait. I stood with my back against the pole, my skateboard resting against my thigh. I closed my eyes for a second, silently saying good-bye to Arizona for the last time when I heard the all too familiar, annoying accent from behind me.
"Ashy," Pat's voice called, I didn't turn around and I decided to ignore him. "Ash," his voice called again, he was one of the only people that got to call me that.
"What?" I spat, turning around on my heels to face him.
"Let's go home," he held out his hand for me to take, I looked down at his hand then back to his face. I rolled my eyes and turned back around, "I'm not going anywhere with you." I mumbled, leaning my head against the pole and closing my eyes. I wasn't stupid, I knew John wasn't here, he didn't care.
"Ashton," Kenny's voice came out slow and soft, I gulped and ignored him. "Ashton," he said again and this time he out a gentle hand on my shoulder. I turned to face him and immediately regretted it, I caught his eyes and I gulped looking down at my feet.
"Let's just go home, I can stay with you if you want. Let's just go." His voice was soft and his accent was thick in the morning. I was ten seconds away from giving up when I decided against it.
"No, Kenny, I can't. I got the ticket, I'm not going back." I mumbled. He rolled his eyes and I could tell he was getting impatient.
"Just get in the van Ashton." His words came out slow and I could hear the hint of his southern accent.
"Make me," my words angry as usual, and he looked into my eyes like he could see something I didn't know was there. He grabbed my wrist, pulling me into him, causing me to drop my skate board.
"I can make you," he mumbled low, catching my eyes as I watched Jared catch my board. I pulled my wrist out of his grasp and spat at his feet, grabbing my board out of Jared's hands.
"Fuck off Brock." I growled before I took off in the opposite direction. I didn't get on the train and I wasn't going home. Hell, who knew where I was going.