A Picture Changed My Life Forever
Skating skating skating.
I stood dumbfounded. That skate park is the biggest skate park I've seen.
EVER.
And I've seen a great deal of parks, too.
It's a good thing that the lights they used to light-up the park were white. If they were orange (like the lights at the skate park at home), you wouldn't be able to see a thing in the pitch black darkness.
Frank stretched his arms widely. "Well, what do you think, Sammy?"
I looked at him with my mouth open. "What do I think? It's wonderful! It's huge! It's... it's...."
"Save the talking, Sam. Show us your moves," Ray said, sitting cross-legged on the floor.
As I looked at him, a dim memory of me sitting down cross-legged on the matted floor of the warehouse Dad does all his pictures in. I also remmebered the piggy-back rides I got from Gee and Frank.
That was when my Mom still.... lived.
It seemed all so distant now and yet, here I am performing skateboarding tricks in front of My Chemical Romance.
I rode down the first ramp, and practically dug my foot into the cemented ground for acceleration. I grinded on several rails: the wide, flat rail, the circular rail and others of the kind.
The cold Jersey wind brushed past my face everytime I did a flip. In fact, it brushed past my face everytime. It felt good. And for the first time, I forgot all my problems. I forgot about Phil, about Mom and the preps.
Night-time is a magical time for me.
I did one last up-the-ramp kick flip, finished it with a nose grab and landed infront of a dumbstruck My Chemical Romance.
I smiled. "That was awesome."
"Watching you is awesome, Sam! You didn't even fall or break a sweat!" Bob exclamied.
I smirked. "Break a sweat? In this temperature?"
Mikey giggled.
"Thanks anyway though, Bobbert," I said.
"That was amazing, Sammy!" Frank said.
Gee smiled. "Same reaction from me." He looked down, put his hands in his pockets and shook his head. "Amazing."
I gave Frank his skateboard and said, "Here, you try it."
He smirked. "No way. Are you trying to make me feel bad?"
"No way, Frankie! Try it! It's not that hard," I insisted. I jumped into the pit, into the flat floor at the bottom.
MCR jumped down too. Frank reluctantly took the board and rubbed his hands together. He rode around slowly for awhile, just on the ground. "Hey, this is fun," he called to us. I saw him grin from a far.
He started to press his foot against the floor faster and faster, harder and harder, until his shoe came off. "My shoe!" He yelled. He looked back and the wheel of the board hit a rough spot. The wheel came off, and the board a screeching sound which I promised myself that I wouldn't remember, and thus, this is a promise meant to be broken.
The sound was loud, and high-pitched that it hurt your ear drums. There was a rough edge to it too, so it sounded like.... a cross between a car that lost two of its wheel (and is scraping on a very, very rough road) and a dying cow.
In a blink of an eye, the skateboard tumbled over, which sent Frank flying about twenty feet from where the skateboard originally was.
"FRANKIE!" We all yelled. Except for Frank himself of course, who instead yelled in shock.
We ran over to him. He was clutching his left hand with his other hand and winced in pain.
"Frankie, I'm so sorry. I made you get on the skateboard. I insisted that you did. It's all my fault," I said, tears springing to my eyes.
"Frank, dude, what hurts?" Gee said, as he helped him up.
Frankie got up and winced once more. "My fingers and my right foot. You'll have to carry me."
If you were in Frank's position, you'd start bursting out in laughter at the command of someone carrying you. You'd laugh harder at the fact that you're twenty-five. But if you were in Frank's position now, you wouldn't laugh. You'd find this perfectly normal, especially that you broke your foot.
Since we didn't have a car, Gee, Bob and Ray had to carry Frank up the ramp and lay him down on the soft green grass.
As the others were busy trying to find out what other part of Frank was broken (and Bob joked maybe his balls were and when Frank heard it, he laughed), Mikey sat beside me and put an arm around me. "Are you alright?" he asked.
I wiped tears from my eyes. "It's my fault he's injured." I sobbed.
"It's not your fault," he insisted. "It's not your fault."
I got up on my legs. "How can it not be my fault? I made him get on the stupid skateboard!" I shouted.
Gee, Bob, Ray and Frank looked at me. I sat back down and muttered, "Sorry."
Mikey pulled me into a hug and kept saying that it wasn't my fault, although I denied it everytime and made myself feel guiltier.
Frank got up slowly and limped/crawled to me, if that made any sense. He pulled me onto his leg that didn't have the injured foot with his arm that didn't have the injured fingers. I helped him by getting up less reluctantly. He put his arm around me and said, "It's not your fault, Sammy. It's not your fault."
I buried my face into his chest for the second time that day. "I'm sorry, Frankie. I'm so sorry."
"There's nothing to be sorry about, sweetie."
EVER.
And I've seen a great deal of parks, too.
It's a good thing that the lights they used to light-up the park were white. If they were orange (like the lights at the skate park at home), you wouldn't be able to see a thing in the pitch black darkness.
Frank stretched his arms widely. "Well, what do you think, Sammy?"
I looked at him with my mouth open. "What do I think? It's wonderful! It's huge! It's... it's...."
"Save the talking, Sam. Show us your moves," Ray said, sitting cross-legged on the floor.
As I looked at him, a dim memory of me sitting down cross-legged on the matted floor of the warehouse Dad does all his pictures in. I also remmebered the piggy-back rides I got from Gee and Frank.
That was when my Mom still.... lived.
It seemed all so distant now and yet, here I am performing skateboarding tricks in front of My Chemical Romance.
I rode down the first ramp, and practically dug my foot into the cemented ground for acceleration. I grinded on several rails: the wide, flat rail, the circular rail and others of the kind.
The cold Jersey wind brushed past my face everytime I did a flip. In fact, it brushed past my face everytime. It felt good. And for the first time, I forgot all my problems. I forgot about Phil, about Mom and the preps.
Night-time is a magical time for me.
I did one last up-the-ramp kick flip, finished it with a nose grab and landed infront of a dumbstruck My Chemical Romance.
I smiled. "That was awesome."
"Watching you is awesome, Sam! You didn't even fall or break a sweat!" Bob exclamied.
I smirked. "Break a sweat? In this temperature?"
Mikey giggled.
"Thanks anyway though, Bobbert," I said.
"That was amazing, Sammy!" Frank said.
Gee smiled. "Same reaction from me." He looked down, put his hands in his pockets and shook his head. "Amazing."
I gave Frank his skateboard and said, "Here, you try it."
He smirked. "No way. Are you trying to make me feel bad?"
"No way, Frankie! Try it! It's not that hard," I insisted. I jumped into the pit, into the flat floor at the bottom.
MCR jumped down too. Frank reluctantly took the board and rubbed his hands together. He rode around slowly for awhile, just on the ground. "Hey, this is fun," he called to us. I saw him grin from a far.
He started to press his foot against the floor faster and faster, harder and harder, until his shoe came off. "My shoe!" He yelled. He looked back and the wheel of the board hit a rough spot. The wheel came off, and the board a screeching sound which I promised myself that I wouldn't remember, and thus, this is a promise meant to be broken.
The sound was loud, and high-pitched that it hurt your ear drums. There was a rough edge to it too, so it sounded like.... a cross between a car that lost two of its wheel (and is scraping on a very, very rough road) and a dying cow.
In a blink of an eye, the skateboard tumbled over, which sent Frank flying about twenty feet from where the skateboard originally was.
"FRANKIE!" We all yelled. Except for Frank himself of course, who instead yelled in shock.
We ran over to him. He was clutching his left hand with his other hand and winced in pain.
"Frankie, I'm so sorry. I made you get on the skateboard. I insisted that you did. It's all my fault," I said, tears springing to my eyes.
"Frank, dude, what hurts?" Gee said, as he helped him up.
Frankie got up and winced once more. "My fingers and my right foot. You'll have to carry me."
If you were in Frank's position, you'd start bursting out in laughter at the command of someone carrying you. You'd laugh harder at the fact that you're twenty-five. But if you were in Frank's position now, you wouldn't laugh. You'd find this perfectly normal, especially that you broke your foot.
Since we didn't have a car, Gee, Bob and Ray had to carry Frank up the ramp and lay him down on the soft green grass.
As the others were busy trying to find out what other part of Frank was broken (and Bob joked maybe his balls were and when Frank heard it, he laughed), Mikey sat beside me and put an arm around me. "Are you alright?" he asked.
I wiped tears from my eyes. "It's my fault he's injured." I sobbed.
"It's not your fault," he insisted. "It's not your fault."
I got up on my legs. "How can it not be my fault? I made him get on the stupid skateboard!" I shouted.
Gee, Bob, Ray and Frank looked at me. I sat back down and muttered, "Sorry."
Mikey pulled me into a hug and kept saying that it wasn't my fault, although I denied it everytime and made myself feel guiltier.
Frank got up slowly and limped/crawled to me, if that made any sense. He pulled me onto his leg that didn't have the injured foot with his arm that didn't have the injured fingers. I helped him by getting up less reluctantly. He put his arm around me and said, "It's not your fault, Sammy. It's not your fault."
I buried my face into his chest for the second time that day. "I'm sorry, Frankie. I'm so sorry."
"There's nothing to be sorry about, sweetie."