Toris stomped his foot. "You asshole, that's mine!"

A Polish girl about the same age as himself, fourteen, stood with his bike on the sidewalk. It had recently gone missing and was really pissing him off.

"What? No, it's not." This was the first time she spoke. Her voice was unusually low, for a girl. "It's, like, mine! I found it, fair and square!" She flipped her blonde hair out of her way. "And it's a totally bitchin' bike."

"Yes, it is mine! I carved my name right there!" He approached the female and pointed to the bar under the seat. Sure enough, there it was: Toris Lorinaithis, painstakingly carved onto the seat tube.

"Oh. So it is." She pulled out her phone, embellished with a pink case. She began to text someone, obviously uninterested. "Well, Terrance, or whatever your name is, you shouldn't have just left it out like that."

"It was chained up! And my name is Toris!"

"Well, I broke it. A five dollar Wal-Mart chain won't do you any good. Are all Russians this dumb?"

Everyone always mistook Toris for Russian, and not many things made him more enraged. Except, maybe, this girl. "I'm fucking Lithuanian!"

"Lithuanian, Russian, same difference. You should really buy a better lock and chain." She readjusted her plaid skirt, which looked just a little too short when compared to the giant white sweater that she wore.

"I can't, because I spent all my money on that bike! Listen, girl. You have a lot of nerve, keeping my bike."

"Girl? Who says I'm a girl? Do I look like a girl to you? No, I'm not. I'm a boy, and my name is Feliks." Toris brushed hair away from his eyes to get a better look at him. Sure enough, his chest was flat as a brick under that sweater. His jaw and shoulders were a bit more defined than first observed, and the skirt didn't quite… fit him right.

"And who says that I wouldn't give your bike back to you? You can have it; I just like talking to you. You're cute." Feliks put away his phone and steered the bike to Toris. "Here you go."

Toris took it from him as Feliks began to walk away. "See ya, Toris!"

Toris waved to him slowly and unsure. That was actually much easier than he thought it would be. He expected a legitimate fight, which he knew that he's lose.

He looked down at the right handle bar, which had a small piece of paper taped to it. He picked it up and unfolded it:

Call me

XXX-1680

-Feliks

Toris crumpled up the paper and debated throwing it on the ground, but decided against it. There was no way he was calling this thief, but he kept the number, just in case.