Cedar Valley High Series #1
Zaydence Denholm is in trouble. She and her best friend are crushing on the same guy. On her part, she views this as the ultimate betrayal. This crush alongside overbearing and emotionally detached parents, and a complica...
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Mom nagged me to wear a helmet. Something about how only at-risk youth frequented places like a skatepark. I was going to wear one anyways but my afro puffs couldn't fit underneath it. I went to Busy Bee and Toya gave me cornrows with a heart shaped part by my ear. Blowing a gust of air through clenched teeth, I left the salon. The braids were tight but pretty hurts.
Groups of men in hard hats and highlighter yellow vests were scattered along the streets. The neighborhood—Heglo—was undergoing a makeover. Or as Zeriah would say, gentrification at its finest.
I jumped into the backseat of Henry's car. Mere minutes later we rounded the corner. We heard the park before we saw it. Their powerful surround sound system played music for the whole neighborhood to hear. I grabbed my tote bag with my helmet and rollerblades in it. I told Henry to meet me in a few hours. He didn't like sitting in his car for too long because it made him look suspicious.
November's chill cut through the fabric of my thermals and jumpsuit. Strong winds breezed through the bare trees overhead. A familiar head sat at a bench watching his surroundings. Walking in his direction, I tried not to move the muscles in my face too much. If I smiled a few tears would escape me. Not tears of joy, but tears from the tension in my head.
"Milo," I waved.
"Zaydence, heyy," he leaned forward and patted my back. Hugs were priceless, bro hugs included.
You're touch starved.
He and I joined the line of skaters waiting to enter the park. Oddly, I was overdressed. Tank tops and cargo shorts or leotards were the popular choices. We stood under a cloud of weed which I feared I would get a contact high from. He didn't seem to mind.
The line stopped.
Two buff men with security on their shirts stood in the doorway arguing with a string bean shaped young man. They stood under a large tent labeled SECURITY CHECKPOINT.
"What the fuck?" the young man's voice boomed.
"No weapons," one of the security guards said in a calm voice. His bulging muscles, shaved head, and domineering stature didn't match the cadence of his voice. He towered over most of us and instilled a certain fear that I only felt from my parents. This man wasn't taking fodd from anyone.
"Can't be naked in these streets, I need that."
"No acceptions."
"Am I gon get it back?"
"We ain't holdin' nothin'."
His anger grew tenfold as he realized they weren't going to give him what he wanted.
He raised his voice and began screaming about how unfair it all was.
He called them idiots for building a park in a not-so-safe neighborhood and throwing away weapons.
