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Post by Seamus Winter on Nov 12, 2007 13:45:25 GMT -5
Think 'bout it.
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Seamus was remembering. There was a lot to remember, a lot to forgive. Forgive and forget. Those had been his Ma's first words as he had walked through her door, practically in rags. His pride had been swept away by then, he was unashamed of the things he had done, things he had seen. But it would haunt him. Seamus had the skateboard under one arm, a soccer ball at his feet, and some books and pens under his other arm. He ran over to a seat that was lying face down against the floor. Propping it back up, he placed his homework in a studying sort of position, and rolled the ball under the bench, to hold it. Then his skateboard was down, and he was away.
Seamus had first encountered a skateboard at the age of 10. He had seen someone riding one outside his window. From then on, he thought about it daily. Then, at 11, he had the chance to nab one. He took the opportunity, and from then on, taught himself how to use it. When he moved in with his Ma, she was supportive, and took him to skateboarding lessons. Now he had a new board, and took it with him where ever he went, to class, everywhere. Now he had a chance to ride it, and that chance was not going to be wasted.
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Post by Charlie Wright on Nov 14, 2007 0:23:21 GMT -5
Told you everything loud and clear But nobody’s listening Charlie was rather bored, His brown hair hung in his face, like always and his ripped blue jeans touched the floor with every step. He had a black notebook in one hand and a pen he was twirling between his fingers in the other. He was supposed to be doing homework right now, be he couldn’t stay focused, so he decided to go for a walk and maybe write some music. He walked into the large gym, he hated just about everything about this room, the class that was held in it, the annoying squeaking sound that the floor made if you ran on it, he even hated the benches that lined the walls and the fact any little noise echoed throughout the room. “Hey, What’s up?” He said lifting a hand to greet the boy as he flipped a bit of hair away from his light brown eyes. |
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Post by Seamus Winter on Nov 14, 2007 13:42:30 GMT -5
Wasn't that you.
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The boy walked in. Seamus looked up, a pained expression on his eager face. There was always someone who disturbed his moments, his precious few minutes he could fit some peace time in. But he couldn't get out of this one. The boy that was approaching him had a black notebook, and a pen, which he was twirling through his fingers. Seamus studied him critically. Was the boy using the same ruse, as an excuse to have some time in the gym, or was he actually studying? His curiosity piqued, Seamus flipped his skateboard back up, letting it settle into his hand. Setting it down with his other stuff, he waited for the boy to talk. There was always a bit of time in between arrival and conversation where each student was studying each other, rating, and finally accepting. Or sometimes rejecting. The boy looked nice, he looked Scene. And that was enough. It was true, Seamus vaguely recognised him, but only slightly.
“Hey, What’s up?” Seamus glanced up sharply from looking down at his used, worn skateboard. "Hi. Have we met? Cos I'm sure I've seen you somewhere. Scene, right?" A bit formal, but Seamus was curious. He was sure that the other boy would introduce himself during answering the questions Seamus had loaded onto him, and he was interested to see how the boy would react. It was all part of making a new friend. Waiting for an answer, he rolled the ball out from underneath the seat, and passed it to the stranger. "So, what's your name? And, do you have IM? What's your name?" In any other situation, Seamus would never have said that. It was too, girlish. However Seamus had finally pinpointed where he remembered the boy from. And that was IM. The boy looked a lot like guitar_freak's avatar, and Seamus hoped that he was right. It'd be very good for his self-esteem.
Taking the ball back, he again put it under the seat, and straightened a bit. He was tired, and he decided to think some more. The boy looked Scene, and Seamus's thoughts went awry as he thought up possible occupations for him, but those were pointless, as he soon ran out of ideas. So, he resolved that problem by thinking about what he would like to achieve on a skateboard. Seamus's first skateboard had been the rubbish dump, crappy old thing. He liked to think that he hadn't stolen it, but it had been in a car, someone had been wanting to take it home. And as a street-kid, you quickly learned to steal. If you didn't, you'd never get by. So Seamus had opened the un-locked car, and taken the skateboard. Was it stealing? The 15-year old didn't think so. Anyway, it didn't matter, as he hadn't been caught, and had managed to get away, skateboard in hand, and a proud expression on his thin face.
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