The sun was just about to hit that point of day where every color you could possibly think of lit up the sky like the end of a 4th of July celebration. All that you could hear was the clacking of my bicycle wheels against the tall grass that sat on the side of the road. It was the time of day that could really brighten up the rest of your evening. I was returning from a long day at school, riding to my house quickly so that I wasn't late for dinner. Mom hated that, even if I was crawling home after an accident, I was never to be late. I drew in a sharp breathe as my front wheel hit a small, but jagged stone. It shocked me back into the reality I was to be paying attention to.

I heard a mockingbird call from the willow in Mrs. Carson's front yard. Mrs. Carson was the only person on the road that I passed on the way from school. Her dog barked at me as I flew by, it was a usual thing for me. As long as I've lived here Ponto, the dog, had never gotten use to the idea that there in fact was other life outside his shabby yard he called his domain.

The sinking of the colors in the sky made me pedal with everything I had, trying to reach my destination in record time. If Sarah hadn't have stopped me and tell me about her latest crush, I would have been home getting ready for supper. In the horizon I could see the small shrubs and flowerbeds that made up the majority of my front yard. Nearly home I thought, looking down at my watch. I had five minutes left. It was great time.

When my front tire hit the soft grass of the yard, I jumped off the seat faster than a jack rabbit. My Dad was holding open the door for me as I scrambled into my home.

He called, " Get that bicycle out of the front yard after supper, Luca. You hear?" I sighed. Yes my name is Luca, Luca Dockett. I lived in the small town of Plymouth in Oklahoma. I had brown curly hair that every girl in the county envied. My eyes were a strange violet color; even though my mom had gray eyes and my dad had green ones, I seemed to have something else. I felt so different in my family, but I settled for what I had. In a small town all you can do is settle for good instead of best.

"Yes, sir," I promised as I was scrubbing the palms of my hands with the Dove soap that lay in its own pool of water from previous washes that day.

I half ran to the kitchen at the smell of the meal my mom had made for us to eat. If was baked ham and potatoes, and for dessert my mom's church prized Monkey Bread. My stomach growled with an intensity to knock out a lion. I usually didn't eat my school's food. Too cheap. Too much synthetic fillers, so occasionally I'd take a paper bag full of leftovers every Friday or so.

"Looks good mom," I breathed gaping at the home cooked meal that set before me. I kissed her cheek and plopped down at the table; awaiting to be fed

"Thanks, honey; Bruce can you get the coffee out for me?" she asked her husband.

"Sure ."

He sounded a little tired. Dad's eyes were drooping like a dandelion in the winter. I'd have to skip watching the tube tonight; he'd be sleeping on the couch after he washed up for the night.

His boss was making all his workers go longer hours without breaks so the huge order could be filled for his client. It was almost filled, according to dad, so he could get more sleep after it was over.

I thought he was lying, and he probably was; but he was only thinking of us. A loud roar came from outside, but I ignored it.

"How was your day, sweetie?" Mom asked, after we had sat down and said grace.

"Ok," I said shoving my face full of food.

"Well, can I get a more than one word sentence from you please?" Mrs. Dockett pleaded.

"Fine. I made a 97 on the French test on Wednesday, Shelia Holcombe got caught smoking in the girls' bathroom during third period, and we had turkey with dressing on the side."

"Were Shelia's parents notified?" Dad questioned pointing at me with his fork.

"I believe so," I carried on.

"So have you found a car yet?" he went on.

"No, not really, but I'm looking for one though."

"Well, you keep on looking," he smiled cheekily. "With all that money you saved from working at the ole café on 32nd St."

Yeah I was looking for a car. I just got my driver's license last month since I was sixteen and ready to hit the road. No offers had been made to me even though my fliers were everywhere in the city. I had high hopes, but so far no luck. And when I found a car, I'd hire someone at school to help me fix it up. It was a week or two 'til school was out for the summer. We'd have all that time to do a good job on the thing, I hope.

"I hope I can; I'm tired of riding to and fro from school on that old thing in the yard,"

"Well go get that thing in the yard out of it," Dad ordered setting his empty plate in the dirty dish water.

"Yes, Daddy," I swooned, mocking him as I dumped the dishes in the sink.

He looked at me with smiling eyes. I was just like him in every way, and he adored that about me. I had his attitude, looks, and of course the warped sense of humor. My mother rolled her eyes as I past her heading to the yard.

When I finally got out to the yard, my bicycle was nowhere in it. I could have sworn I had just tossed it out there so I wouldn't be late for supper. I ran down to the end of the walkway to make sure. I was positive I just left it there.

Suddenly, I heard that deep roar again coming from down the road. The corn and wheat fields made it reverberate from every possible opening; the fields, the sky.

It grew louder with every passing moment. I tried to figure out exactly what it was, then that's when it passed me. It was a motorcycle, a black and red pull-a-part; as I called it. A pull-a-part was a term me and dad used to describe a poorly put together piece of machinery. The bike didn't really seem too poorly constructed, just quickly done. A corner-cutter.

I admired the ride, but soon scowled at the rider who popped a wheelie at me in the middle of the road. You could tell it was him from the recklessness of his attire and personality that radiated from every nook and cranny of his naturally tan face.

It was Hernandez Armanda, he was a guy from school that nobody but his family and neighbors wanted to be around. He came from Mexico in the fifth grade, to this little town so his parents could find work. He ended up living just a mile and a half down the street from me and his father was my dad's best friend.

I may have known him for that long but we were never friends, he was too asinine for my tastes; so I kept my distance.

He was darkly tanned and his black hair was cut in a way that many people wouldn't consider as "nice". He wore hand-me-downs from his older brother Felipe, who moved out and began his life in the city. He was usually clad in a faded T-shirt and a pair of holey jeans and his work boots. Sometimes he didn't wear a shirt at all on really hot days. You could see him working in his dad's mechanics shop on Pickler Dr..

Just as he finished passing me he pointed a finger to the garage behind me, then he was gone. I turned to look behind me, expecting to see someone behind me; but I saw me bike parked under the garage door. I was astonished. Then it soon turned to anger. "I can't believe he did that." I screamed, walking towards the house. "Uhhhh." My hissy caught some attention apparently.

"What is it Luca," my father cried as he came to the sound of my aggravated screech. "Hernandez," I spoke, stalking past him into the house. I could hear him chuckle as I closed the door to my room. "Why would he come in the yard and move my bicycle," I whispered to myself, as if the walls could speak. That was the beginning of a summer no one would forget. Me especially.