His Game

Chapter One

His Game: Chapter One

Passing a sophomore who must have just gotten his license from how cautiously he's driving, I rev the engine to my Harley Davidson Cruiser and into the only empty spot left in the parking lot. I glance to my right and see a band geek in his Honda Accord huff and drive past the spot, turning off his blinker that I must have missed.

I snicker to myself with a tinge of guilt for taking his spot, but clearly not enough to actually back out of the space, and park my bike. Swinging my leg over the side, I slide my helmet off and run my fingers through my dark brown hair to avoid helmet-head.

"Aye Rhett!" Roger greets, walking over to me from his own car.

Ever since he and I were little kids we've been best friends. It all started in kindergarten on the playground in Mrs. Kingston's class. We were all playing kickball, and Billy Rutherford decided he thought the chestnut color of Roger's skin was odd, so he purposely threw the ball right at his face and nearly broke his nose.

I didn't like Billy to begin with, because on the first day of kindergarten he stole my Snack-Pack, and seeing him bully someone because of a difference in appearance struck me as odd and I knew it was wrong, so I pushed him down and kicked dirt in his face for being a 'poop-head' as my six year old self so cleverly came up with. Roger and I have been best friends ever since.

Billy thankfully moved away in third grade, so we never had to deal with him again.

Roger jogs past a Volkswagen Beetle that nearly hit him as he crossed the parking lot and finally reaches me, and I offer a 'sup' nod as I place my helmet on the bike seat. That's when Dino, our other best friend, starts to walk over.

Dino was almost like Billy's replacement. He moved into town from Jersey only a few weeks after Billy moved away. Dino was definitely the better version of him, but as a third grader Dino was annoying. His thick jersey/Italian accent got under my skin, and his spoon-fed lifestyle didn't help.

Roger and I only hung out with him because of the pool in his backyard and game room in his basement equipped with Foosball, Pac-Man, Billiards, and a flat-screen with every gaming console an elementary school kid would want.

Of course, we've matured and have found other reasons to hang out with him since then, getting used to his thick Jersey accent, and we now see him like a brother. But the basement helped.

"What's up guys," I smirk, grabbing each of their hands for a small 'bro hug' as society likes to call it.

Dino leans against the minivan I parked next to and smirks, crossing his arms.

"So, Calvetti, today is the first of the month," he teases. "You knows what that means." With such a strong accent, Dino comes off as though he's yelling and my Italian last name rolls of off his tongue better than it ever does mine.

He's more Italian than I am; only my moms side is from Italy, both of his parents and their parents and so on come from Italy.

I groan and lean against my bike as I throw my head back from his statement. I had almost forgotten.

The first of the month signals my month with Stephanie is over. Our 'relationship' being over doesn't mean much to me- I was tired of her anyways- it's the breaking up portion I can't say I necessarily enjoy.

"Hey man, you made the game. You can't complain about the rules," Roger says with an unsympathetic shrug.

I send him a friendly glare, "You're only saying that because you guys love to see me stress about this part."