Amson, 17, "Autos Phobos"

"Hoooweee..." Deuce hooted. "This dude is somethin' else."

"Dame Coccinelle," a skate park on the edge of Dutchman City, was rowdy as ever, tons of people standing around the center. The spot was like an oasis in this fucked-up city, and just about everybody knew everybody, save for the weenies.

"Yep." Tyriq responded. "Guy's a rarity."

Weenies are the rookies of the pit, usually thrown first into the center, the stage so-to-speak. Being the place where everything happened and everyone saw, it was a game to show your standing amongst everyone, and no one was spared. I was a weenie once; I'd never go back.

Once you were thrown in for the first time, you were given a label, a placeholder for your name. Mine happened to be "Training Wheels," a much lighter sentence than what most people were dealt. Though, I get the reasoning. I'm about the only person who showed up with a bike instead of a board, or at the very least, the only one who bothered to show their face again.

"Wooohooo!!!" I heard a guy from the audience yell from the depths of his lungs.

I flew through the air, flipping the handle and causing the front wheel to spin violently as I descended, slowly inching the nose to stick my landing on the ramp of the pit. I landed with a small skid of burning rubber, but I was upright and conscious, a miracle from that landing. With the momentum, I was launched along the edge of the pit, a sticky yet heart racing experience. I spun like a top through the air, landing on my hind wheel instead of the front. It was a dicey landing, but it worked in my favor, netting me more howls from the crowd as I forced myself to a stop.

"Hell yeah, brother." Tyriq dapped me up. "You're killin' it, wheels."

Tyriq was the only guy I knew by name, a privilege more than anything. Around the pit, names were a no-go, especially since a lot of the goers were wanted in some way or another, but Tyriq was a cool dude, not only no record but known as an upstanding guy. African American guy, 6'1, with dreads reaching around his ears is my best description.

He's also a high school senior, same as me.

He only wears basketball jerseys, but since he's on the Cayman High basketball team, Butcher's rival school, I've never found a chance nor reason to ask why.

"You want another go?" He joked. "Seems like everyone else is scared to touch the pit, now."

"Not for a while, man." I responded, laughing as I caught my breath. "I chipped a bit off my life for that landing."

He smiled before wrapping his arm around my shoulder, huddling close and personal.

"So," He playfully jabbed me in my side. "How's that plan of yours going on? I hear Butcher's nearly crumbled to the ground after the first week."

"Those rumors are a bit out of hand, but yeah; Butcher is still Butcher."

"Yeah..." Tyriq's attention was caught by something. "Hey, follow me."

He motioned for me to follow, and I did, gripping the bike. He hopped on his board, looking back one more time and taking off in a flash. It took me only a second to match his speed, and we were off, through the gates and into the city. Directly outside Coccinelle was a neighborhood that nearly creaked in the wind, stitches holding the walls together. Still, the kids around looked happy as could be as we rode around, talking to one another.

It was amazing to me when I thought back on how we'd grown up together yet apart, meeting at the park each weekend and remaining friends for this long. It reminded me of how I'd met Baun.

"You still never told me..." Ty said from his board.

"About what?" I asked.

"How your first week was, man." He said, mildly annoyed.

"It was fine, I guess. Nothing special to relay just yet."

"When're you gonna allow yourself out your comfort zone, Amson? You gotta live a little, and from what you say, it seems like that's what you're looking to do."

I paused to think for a moment, and he looked at me for a moment before turning his attention back to the sidewalk.

"But if you really want to capitalize on this year, you've got to get out of your own way."

///

For the rest of the ride I was stumped, no way of responding to his words. He was right, and yet, I couldn't shake the feeling in my gut, pulling me back to what I was sure was reality. Even on a road paved with gold, I'm sure I'd still find no simpler way to my goal. There has to be some give on either side, whether it be a simple as time or as harrowing as my mind.

"You sounded like my dad while we were riding." I said, struggling to appreciate the atmosphere of the space.

Our rides against a tree, we sat in front of a small cliff, hanging over the city as sunset approached. The sky steadily grew orange, and with the presence of Tyriq, it was ripe time to think, digging deep into my own mind.

What did I want? What was I truly looking for with this plan? I couldn't find an answer, but maybe with a bit more digging, I thought I mind eventually know.

Yet none came.

"If your dad said it, why aint you doin' nothing about it?" Ty said, jolting me out of my own head.

I looked at him as we sat, but his eyes were looking into the sky, the scene reflecting off his brown eyes.

"When I graduate, I wanna get my family out of this place." He said, passionately looking into the heavens. "Whether I'm still playing basketball or doing something else, I wanna make that a reality."

He grabbed a blade of grass, pinched it between his fingers and littered it back along the ground from which it came.

"I didn't bring you here to chew you out." He sighed. "I wanted to talk to you, man-to-man. Y'know, sometimes I worry about you, Am. Sometimes, I even think other people worry about you more than you worry about yourself."

He finally looked me in the eyes, his face serious with a steadfast expression.

"I really wanna know, Am." He said. "What do you really want from this?"