Street rat 》F. Minkus

1|Sk8er boi

•••

[Song: Sk8er boi by Avril lavigne]

•••

"Lucas 'eye-candy' friar and sweet cinnamon roll Farkle"

•••

"Alright? If anything happens just call me."

"Oliver! Relax,we've got this.
You need to go to school now if you want to drop by that drummer guy." Exasperated Rachel throws herself down into the nearest armchair, "I can handle this I'm five years older than you!"

Oliver just rolls his eyes and throws his bookbag onto his back and grasps his trusty skateboard, heading for the door.

"And yet I'm still in charge."

•••

"Just show up, bring the money and we'll get you a sweet new drum kit. No more trash cans and you can get some proper practice."

Oliver turns to leave not giving Dweezil a chance to speak, only getting three strides away before shrugging of his bag and reaching in. He pulls out folded blue wool, tossing it his loyal friend and customer.

Dweezil catches the fabric and opens his mouth to ask about it but Oliver beats him to it,
"It's a present, you'll look cool in it- By cool I mean cute."

Dweezil doesn't stop the crap-eating-grin on his face when he slips the beanie over his long dark hair.
"Thanks 'lee; see it matches my outfit and everything!"

Oliver gives a lazy salute and winks before turning and carrying on his way.

Dweezil's music echoing in his ears, along with the shouts of a weird brunette being a 'chick' and her slouching blonde friend, as he leaves Bleecker street station.

•••

It was twenty three minutes past eight when Oliver arrived to his new school- 'John Quincy Adams middle school'.

He headed to the office. Passing a tall, rather gorgeous Boy- if people who look like that go to school here maybe it wouldn't be all bad.

After a quick three minutes getting his schedule and locker code, (and four minutes memorising his map) he started to slow-walk to history.

As soon as he got around the corner, Oliver was on his skateboard and racing to Mr. Matthews class.

The main door, at the front of the history room was left open giving Oliver a perfect view inside.

"Lucas Friar, from Austin, Texas." The sweet, sweet eye candy from before was stood in the classroom handing his transfer slip and late pass over to who Oliver could only assume was Mr. Matthews.

Distracted by just how fast he was approaching rather narrow doorway- he didn't bother to listen to the rest of the conversation.

He wasn't about to fall off his board and embarrass himself in front of the people he has to spend everyday with until he's expelled.

Breath in. Breath out.
Nice and calm.

With confidence he did not have, Oliver flew into the room. He kicked down his right foot, his left lifting with the board to stop. He hops down before repeating the motion with his right foot and the board shoots up into his awaiting hand.