Cause a Riot

Chapter 23

'Wayne Rustage walked down the busy streets of downtown, the hustle and bustle of city life rejuvenating. He liked busy places. Rustage was a lively person. He dropped his skateboard to the sidewalk and jumped on it, pushing himself forward, swerving himself around people as he raced through the streets. He sped up, the wind rushing through his black hair. A boy suddenly walked out of a hidden alley in front of Rustage and he widened his eyes. He swerved around the boy, barely missing him by a centimeter. Rustage crashed against a pole, skateboard slipping away from under him. He groaned and shot a dirty look back at the boy, who he now noticed was wearing such dirty, ripped clothes that he must have been a hobo. Rustage gritted his teeth and stood up. "Stinkin' bastard," he whispered, lifting himself to his feet. He walked away, grabbing his board, down the sidewalk. So much for his boarding break. He would just have to walk off the pain before he could continue riding. He wasn't that hurt.

He had walked a distance before someone ran up to him. "Hey, excuse me!"

Rustage turned around. It was the hobo boy. He frowned. What would he want? The boy panted as he walked over, clearly out of breath, like he hadn't exercised in forever. "You... dropped this," the boy wheezed, holding out Rustage's cell phone. Rustage's eyes widened, and he slapped his pant pockets. Sure enough, his phone wasn't there. He snatched it from the boy's hand and opened it up. The phone cover had a pocket where he kept his debit card and other cards. He was surprised but relieved to see they were all there. He looked up but the boy was already walking away. "Hey, wait!" Rustage dropped his board and stepped on it, wheeling it in front of the boy. "Hey, thanks, man."

"Anyone would do the same," the boy answered humbly.

Rustage laughed. "You're not anyone," he said, referring to the fact he was homeless. Rustage was so sure he would have stolen the money. He was amazed that the boy hadn't ran off with the whole phone – it was his freedom from the streets, after all. "Uh, here. As a thank you."

Rustage held out a ten-dollar bill. The boy looked at it and shook his head. "I'm not a beggar," he said, walking around him. Rustage watched the boy go in shock.

"Not a beggar? What dream are you living in?" The boy didn't respond and continued to walk away. Rustage watched him go for a while before shrugging and pocketing the money, continuing on his way down the road.

...

"Oi! It's you!"

Rustage looked down at the boy he had met several days ago. He was laying on the grass, staring at the sky. There were dark bags under his plain brown eyes and his clothes were tattered and muddy. He looked dazed, almost as if he hadn't heard Rustage, but the fact that his eyes slid toward him said otherwise.

"So we meet again! Remember me? I almost hit you with my skateboard a couple of days ago and you returned my phone to me. Why are you lying on the ground like that?" The boy blinked a couple of times before reasserting his eyes to the sky. It was midday. The sun was shining directly above them, and the sky was a peaceful blue with patchy white clouds. "Are you going to say something? Come on, dude. Speak!"

Left unanswered, Rustage shrugged, sitting on the grass beside the lying boy. "Nice meadow, isn't it?" he tried again. 

Silence. 

"The birds are extra loud here. I used to come to this meadow a lot as a kid, usually on family trips but I haven't been here for a long while. See, I'm training to be a cop and the workout is intense. So many laws to learn, ethical practices, privacy rules, weapons, restrictions... phew! It's a lot. But I love the challenge. I've been dreaming of becoming a cop since I was six. I've always had the strength and the sport for the job." Rustage smiled at the butterflies fluttering about, white, yellow, and the occasional monarch. "What about you? Did you have any life dreams?"