In a city of sheep ruled by wolves, she became the python that pulled them apart.
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Sage Black is a girl of little opportunities, forced to see the seamy side of life growing up in New York. Witnessing what lengths billionaires will go through t...
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When we finally catch up with our friends, we stand in what seems like the underneath of the bridge. I want to ask how we're going to get above the bridge but decide that Marli knows best (she's been here before) and let her lead us wordlessly.
We climb a short set of stairs, bordered by dirty walls graffitied and drawn on with disturbing graphics in markers, that lead to the open air, and then we're above the bridge. I let out a whoosh of air, taking in the scene before me.
The walking pathway is on a raised platform, on either sides of it, streets filled with cars rushing back and forth letting out honks and beeps. If I look to the side, I can only glimpse the rooftops of the cars, then the sparkling sea. Seagulls dip above my head as they mark their territory over the dazzling water, reflecting the sky in fiery shades of the sunset. The breeze carries the smells of salty water, rust, and car exhaust; wonder, admiration, and excitement. The pathway is mostly filled with tourists posing for pictures against the railing, bikers in helmets and knee pads, soft-cheeked children in beanies and scarves pointing excitedly at the cityscape.
A sudden flash blinds me. I turn my head to the source and find Zain standing with a Canon camera in her hands, a goofy grin on her face.
"Did you just take a picture of me?"
"Yeah!" she exclaims, clicking on the camera as she flips through the photos. I wonder if she'll force me to pretend not to notice as she takes another one. "You rarely ever smile genuinely; this is a moment for the books."
I don't have an answer to that, secretly surprised at her comment.
"Ugh, Zain," Tave groans. "Quit acting like a tourist. If we wanna cross this thing, we gotta start moving."
She rolls her eyes but starts walking nevertheless, and we follow in tow. Every once in a while when we stop and take in the view, I catch myself acting like the tourists around us.
"The city seen from the Brooklyn Bridge," Marli says when we stop walking for a little, leaning on the rail to watch the sea, "is always the city seen for the first time—"
"—in its first wild promise of all the mystery and the beauty in the world," Tave finishes for her. Marli looks at him with wide eyes. "From The Great Gatsby. Except they were talking about the Queensboro bridge."
"Right," she says with a smile, tucking in her jacket closer around her. The long fishtail braid flickers behind her. "I didn't take you for a Scott Fitzgerald fan."
Zain scoffs next to me. "Don't let him kid you, we were forced to read this last year."
Tave only rolls his eyes, not bothering to refute her claims. But everyone here (except Marli) knows how satirical the comment is. Tave has a 4.0 gpa, and the teachers don't call him by his full name unlike the rest of the students. I don't know why he acts the role of a dumb jock, taking every chance he gets to anger his parents with his piercings, choosing to let people think what they think. Albeit, a part of me admires it.
