"Cry, older sister - Thou shall not fall
Come, come to your brother - Thou shall not die
Unchain me sister - Thou shall not fear
Love is with your brother - Thou shall not kill…hey!"
The radio cut off, and he glowered at his sister. "What's the big idea? That song had a nice tune." Rolling his eyes, he leaned back in his seat and placed his dark boots on the dash.
"Marko, shut up! It's a good song when you're not trying to annoy me. We were having a nice drive. We almost made it. Just give me ten more minutes."
"You don't want to unchain me?"
"You're so weird!"
"I can sing though?"
"Get the lyrics right next time."
"I could have sworn they said older sister instead of little," he mused, eyeing Skylar. He watched her frown and focus her hazel gaze on the road. "I'm so glad you want to talk to me. We've only been in here all day. Give me a break."
Marko's fingers went to his hair, playing with the long, dirty blond locks. He pulled the mirror down and fixed his curly hairstyle. The sunlight lulled him to sleep earlier; Skylar received her peace hours ago. "I've been wanting to get my ear pierced," he mentioned, trying to start conversation.
"I can't believe you just said that. Mom and Dad would never approve. They just bought you a motorcycle. Isn't that enough?" she grumbled, giving him an anxious glance.
"They let you get your ear pierced. What's the difference?" Marko narrowed his blue eyes and stared at the rearview mirror. A trailer holding a sleek, maroon motorcycle carted behind her Toyota Cressida. He surveyed the Pacific Ocean as mighty waves slammed against the rocky cliff and sent spray into the coast air. Seagulls cawed and dived towards the saltwater, rising with fish in their beaks. He pouted while the sun drifted closer to the horizon.
"It's different. They already have a hard time dealing with your…uh," Skylar trailed off as if searching for a word.
"Style?"
"Yeah, your style," she affirmed, trying not to chuckle. Marko was certainly a character in their old town, but he should feel at home in Santa Carla. They visited their relatives as kids, but their parents refused to let them return for the past ten years over money issues. She really missed her Uncle Rick, Aunt Ruth, and her cousin, Alex.
"What's wrong with it?" he demanded.
"Oh, nothing. There's nothing wrong with it."
"Alright, stop giving me looks then. I'm not going to become a rocker or anything," Marko grumbled, hating how his family breathed down his neck. His parents treated him like the baby even though he turned eighteen a month ago.
"Well, you look like one. I think that's what they're concerned about."
Marko groaned and stuck one of his boots out the window, reclining further. "Would I be me if I looked normal? I'm glad that I get two months of space. I can do whatever I want now." The thought brought a cheeky smile to his face - freedom. He suffered enough by being restricted from his motorcycle; he studied long and hard to get his license!
"I just hope they recognize you. They might think I picked up a hitchhiker or something."
He reached over and socked Skylar lightly. Irritably, he turned the radio back on and listened to classic rock. Marko still felt bitter about being interrupted earlier. Humming along, he told himself not to speak with his sister. She insulted him enough for the rest of the summer.
The Cressida drove around a bend and approached a large sign in the distance. Marko sat up straighter with a wide smile. Welcome to Santa Carla spread across the sign in large yellow-orange letters, displaying a paradox. The sign represented the landscape around them and a replica sign within the picture. It's just how he remembered. They passed the sign behind, and he noticed graffiti covering the entire backboard. "Murder Capital of the World?" Marko repeated, concerned. "Hey, did you see that?"
"No, I'm driving."
Leaning out the window, he squinted at the shrinking sign. Multiple paint shades smeared the sign with vulgarity and Santa Carla's nickname in the center. "Do you remember that? The gang activity can't be too bad," he urged.
"I remember Mom and Dad telling us to go inside before dark. Santa Carla was just recently renovated, but I know it's reputation isn't great. We're staying in a good neighborhood though. It should be nothing to worry about. Most cities have better nicknames, you know! The tourists never notice. They're looking ahead and not back. I'm surprised the authorities haven't cleaned it up," Skylar insisted, giving the steering wheel a beat.
"Whatever, like we're going to listen to that, huh? Huh? It'll be me, you, and Alex. This will be the best summer ever. I'm telling ya!" The road wound close to the edge of the cliff, and he knew this would be a fun place to bike. The adrenaline rush already sent his hands rubbing in anticipation. Marko sighed with contentment and thought about the Boardwalk and forest trails. He followed their surroundings and remembered the familiar landmarks from his childhood. Nostalgia swelled inside him at the beautiful change in scenery.
They traveled down a slope and turned away from the cliff side. Mismatched buildings bordered them, displaying their bright beach colors. Sand blew across the sidewalks and mixed with the wind naturally. Pedestrians trekked in sandals; red sunburns covered many of the townsfolk. "I missed this place so much," he whispered.
He kept his eyes glued to downtown and scanned hopefully. The Santa Carla Beach Boardwalk, the West Coast's oldest surviving seaside amusement park, dominated and attracted tourists from far and wide. The peak of the Giant Dipper reached up and graced the pink sky, preparing to be lit up for the night. "There she is! Woohoo!" Marko shouted, yelling out the window.
Skylar seized his arm promptly and tugged him back inside. "Control yourself. It's just a rundown amusement park! That rickety wooden coaster is going to fall apart any day now."
Marko gave his sister a deep frown and shrugged his arm away. "Hey! I'm just trying to have fun. I have Senior year, and then it's off to college. I only have two months to live the rest of my life."
"That's ridiculous. You have more freedom in college than anywhere else. I swear, if Mom and Dad were here-"
"They're not, okay? After college, I'll have to settle down. Then, I won't have freedom anymore. Mom and Dad never gave me that. They always let you go out with your friends and have fun. This is my only chance while Mom and Dad finish selling the house." I'll have to grow up and take on responsibilities. I'm not sure I'm ready for that.
He ignored his sister's curse words and sunk lower in his seat. The Boardwalk began to disappear behind them. Marko forlornly watched a coaster car reach the peak and shoot down the incline. Rubbing his forehead, he formed a plan of action for when they arrived. Alex should be home, and he knew his cousin would tag along. The old amusement park beckoned for him to return later. He relaxed as he pictured the night - playing games, listing to calliope music, and meeting hot ladies. Marko dreamed of Santa Carla days before they left. The vacation came as a surprise; their parents wanted them to be out of the house while business finalized. He sneakily assumed they were looking to buy in the beach town.
They rumbled into a neighborhood structured on a sharp hill. The houses stretched apart with large properties surrounding them. He forgot about the land his relatives owned. The forest edged the dirt pathway and drew its line about a half mile away. He kept an eye out for the russet farmhouse and grinned when it came into view. Knick knacks dotted the lawn from birdhouses to gnomes in the garden. Thankfully, their second home remained the same. The car pulled into the drive and parked beneath a wooden shelter; vines grew up both sides, twining through the square openings.
Marko slid out with a mischievous smirk. He crossed beside the car and hopped onto the cart. His fingers worked on the rigging and rubbed the handlebars of his motorcycle. "Soon, baby," he crooned, marveling at the bike. Backing up, he led the bike off the cart and parked it to the side.
"Marko, is that you?"
He turned as a voice called his name, smiling at his Aunt Ruth. The older woman crossed over to him with short, graying hair. His aunt dressed in a flowered skirt and wore a purple vest; she seemed to have a little pep in her step. "Hey!" he greeted.
The older woman hugged her nephew tightly and rubbed his back. "I promised you'd be taller than your sister. Oh, don't you look just adorable with your hair," she exclaimed.
"Don't mess up the do!" he complained, grinning childishly. He allowed his aunt to grab a few strands and examine its length. "Well, I'm tall enough." Marko hated his small stature but came to terms when he stopped growing. His father taught him how to hold his own in a fight.
"You know, a lot of the kids around here have their hair the same way. It's in style, isn't it?"
He nodded and shifted his hair behind him. "Well, not where I'm from."
"Just the cool cats?"
"Naturally," he agreed, laughing. Marko waved to his Uncle Rick when he approached, giving him a firm embrace.
"I see your parents finally gave," the man observed, nodding to the motorcycle.
"Yeah, they sure did. I got my license and everything. I would have saved up for the bike, got a job or something. I'm just glad they saw things my way," Marko explained.
"I put a good word in for you. I told your mother about all the kids driving them around here. You'd be out of place!" He gave a hearty laugh and clapped Marko on the back. "C'mon boy, you need to unpack. Dinner should be ready soon. We expected you to arrive much later."
Leaning close to his uncle, the man kept an arm around his shoulders. He scooped up his suitcase and placed it in the downstairs guest room. Skylar already claimed the upstairs guest room with the large closet, but he was content with the portable TV. Dropping his clothes on the bed, he'd bust out the hangers later. Marko observed his room and the pale wallpaper, missing this home. He walked over and touched the wall fondly before spotting a photograph. "Oh, man."
He knelt by the nightstand and studied a photo of Alex, his uncle, and himself. His head stopped just below his uncle's shoulder, and dimples formed near his lips. "I can't believe that was me," he mumbled. Marko rubbed dust off the photo with his thumb, snickering at Alex's dark, ratty hair. He heard his cousin grew up to be quite the stud despite his last memory of him. Of course, his uncle took up most of the photo. He shaved off his beard, and his hair grew significantly grayer. "I need to keep one of these." His wallet required a picture of the entire family.
Marko exited his room and smelled spaghetti and meatballs instantly. He entered the kitchen and searched for Alex. "Hey, is Alex home?"
"No, hun. He had to go to work. He wanted to stay and meet you guys when you arrived. You'll see him in the morning," his aunt replied.
Sighing, he leaned against the counter top and felt the overwhelming urge to ride. "Can I go down to the Boardwalk?" The question escaped before he knew it.
"You just got here. Aren't you hungry?" Ruth insisted, draining water from the pasta. She studied her nephew in his worn jeans and black tank top. His determined sister forced them to drive all day. He must feel cooped up; Ruth didn't blame him. Setting the spaghetti on the counter, she exchanged a short stare with her husband.
"I wanted to ask Alex, but he's not here. Can I go for a little while?" Marko pleaded, leaning against the counter.
"I don't know, Rick. It's not safe on the Boardwalk anymore. What with all of the missing-,"
"Marko is responsible. Alex was talking about taking them down there. The band is supposed to be playing tonight," Rick interrupted, raising a hand to quiet his wife.
Furrowing his gaze, he wondered what his aunt meant by missing. Skylar warned him about the surfers and stoners alike. He appreciated his uncle sticking up for him. "Please? I've been stuck with Skylar all day. She didn't stop for food or anything."
"I noticed all of the chip crumbs everywhere. You're cleaning that up tomorrow," his sister snapped, glaring.
"What was I supposed to eat? You refused to feed me," Marko grumbled and crossed to the hallway. He backed up like they confirmed his chance to leave. "Don't talk to strangers and don't take food or drinks from anyone. I know!"
"You better be back by midnight, or I'm calling the cops," Ruth threatened, raising a pointed finger. Worry reflected in her eyes. She wanted to ask her niece to go with Marko, but Skylar smartly voiced her opinion about the amusement park. Of course, it was bad news.
"Woohoo!" he shouted, jumping like a child. Retreating to his room, he dug through his suitcase and uncovered his homemade riding jacket. His mother bought him a jean jacket for his birthday; he made a few improvements to match his ego. The clothing transformed into a collage of patches and absurd colors. An array of skull patches scattered its surface while leopard print coated his right forearm. Reds, yellows, blacks, and blues smeared together into one work of art. Blue and pink-orange tassels hung from his left shoulder; a sexy woman in a bikini marked his entire upper back. He snickered and exited his new room.
"You are not wearing that ratty thing!"
Turning, an amused grin spread across his lips. "What do you mean?" he drawled, sidling halfway through the hall. He partially wanted his relatives to notice his rebellious nature. Marko picked out a slight flush to his aunt's face. "I won't be out long. Promise!" His uncle let out a hoot of laughter when he retreated, seeing the back of his jacket.
He left his family behind and smirked at the breezy air. "Woooo!" Marko raced over to his motorcycle, straddling the bike. Digging through his satchel, he picked out fingerless gloves and slipped them on to improve his grip. His parents warned him to never ride without a helmet; there was no fun in that! He started up the engine, revving before coasting down the driveway. The light flickered to life and illuminated the road a few feet in front of him. Marko couldn't believe they allowed him to go.
His fingers tightened on the throttle and felt the wind whipping through his hair. He sped through the neighborhood and hastily merged onto the road. The speed limit dropped too low for his liking, so he took his chances. Few cars rode alongside him which gave him space to speed. Marko focused for any hiding cops with the vague notion to lose any chasers. He always toyed with the idea of a high speed chase.
A red light loomed ahead and brought him to an irritable halt, trailing his boots beside him. Tapping the handlebars mildly, no vehicles were immediately coming. Laughing, he pushed off and pulled through the intersection. The rush of adrenaline urged him to cruise the entire night and forget about returning home.
The Giant Dipper's peak appeared in the distance, encouraging him to speed faster. His motorcycle slipped between two cars as he maneuvered in and out. A loud car horn blared behind him, followed by an insult. He rode quickly and soon forgot about the irritated driver.
A line of vehicles materialized as they all vied to turn into the Boardwalk's parking lot. With a sneaky grin, he cut the line and squeezed through which earned some more car horns. The parking lot packed full of people, and many struggled to find an opening. Marko drove to the motorcycle lot and came to a stop beside some impressive bikes. He cut the engine and whistled upon sliding to his feet. Several of the bikes were beauties.
Adjusting his hair, Marko left his bike behind and trekked towards the entrance. He ducked through an opening in the chain link fence, walking casually out from behind a cotton candy stand. They never seemed to fix the old shortcut, worked every time. Who needed to buy tickets when you have childhood secrets?
His hands shifted to his pockets as he discovered the Boardwalk map. A wooden board spread before him with the attractions etched into its surface. "Ooh, they added some new rides," he mumbled. He backed up to leave but noticed several missing persons posters. Marko grew silent and studied the young faces. A few of them disappeared months ago. Pushing his uneasy feelings away, he planned to have his fun. The innocent gazes of young men and women stared back at him, asking for his help. Those things are morbid. Why did I even look at them? I'm going to be seeing their faces everywhere now.
Marko tried to avoid the crowd and received several rough nudges. He hated being so much smaller than the tall surfers. Putting on a brave face, he stormed through a crowd that rushed to the band's weekly concert. Nearly half of the patrons must be attending; he wondered how many times he could ride the Giant Dipper before the line exploded. Jogging in urgency, he slowed as he neared a earring booth. A young woman stood beside a chair and worked on piercing a male's ear. Taking a deep breath, he scanned the display of earrings from afar. He felt it was too soon to risk it. Clenching his fists, he forced himself to move onward. Aunt Ruth would bury him in her backyard if she found out.
A saxophone blasted over the Boardwalk along with insane cheers from fans. He could still listen to the band play without being bombarded. Several teenagers filed into the Giant Dipper's line, and he trailed behind them. Marko dodged in front of two guys and snagged the front car, teasing with snickers. He relaxed and spotted a pretty girl surveying the remaining cars. Whistling, Marko smiled and beckoned her to come join him. The girl blushed before joining a male farther in the back. A loud 'ooh' rose for his rejection, but he received the desired reaction. She gave him an embarrassed smile and showed off her thoughts; she dug him.
"How was your day, Max?"
"Quite nice until you entered my store."
David smirked and leaned against the glass counter. He ran his fingers through his bleach blond mullet, twisting a small braid. "Why do you work here?" he muttered, mocking the older man. His icy gaze returned to his sire, taking in his tall frame and large glasses.
"It's my business. Unlike the delinquents around here, I'm supporting myself, bills to pay," Max replied in a demeaning tone. "I could always drop by."
"Hardly necessary, I bet you wouldn't be able to get inside anyway," he teased, eyeing a young woman as she exited.
Thorn approached David and snarled as if berating him. The white dog showed his teeth and threatened him. "Back off, Thorn. Where are your manners?" The creature withdrew behind the counter with Max and laid down by his feet.
"I actually came here for a reason."
"To stare at Marie? I already warned you she's off limits. I'm not going to replace workers for you. Where are the boys? You're never far apart these days," Max grumbled, surveying David.
"I'm not the one interested in her. We've been wanting a new brother though - all of us. Paul is under control now. He's doing much better on his own. Dwayne and I can handle another. If we do it now, we'll be set for the long run. We'll have another brother to watch our backs. I came here to warn you. You seemed surprised when we showed up with Paul," David explained, flashing a devious smile.
Max leaned forward with interest and studied David closely. He had no doubts in his boys, but creating a newborn put them all at risk. His two oldest didn't push Paul and allowed him to become rash. There were always complications if they did not select the perfect candidate. "I trust you to make a wise decision. You'll have to introduce us once everything is sorted out."
The clinking of buckles and boots announced the appearance of Dwayne and Paul. Dwayne wore a dark jean jacket with chest exposed and chains crossing his torso. His black hair hung down his back, but Paul's blond hair seemed more wild tonight, sticking up from riding. "David, you should have been there," Paul teased, laughing. He drifted to the counter and leaned against it, lowering his head for the perfect view. Why must Marie be off limits?
Dwayne nodded with wonder and glanced between them. "There was almost a fight."
"There's at least seven fights every night," David corrected, seeming unimpressed.
"No, this was different. He was so outnumbered!" Paul chided, standing up straighter. "Tell him, Dwayne!"
"We were out smoking by our bikes-,"
"Smoking is illegal on the Boardwalk," Max interrupted with a bemused expression.
"Your Mom is illegal, Max. Butt out!" Paul covered, motioning for Dwayne to continue the story.
"Anyway, he pissed off the Surf Nazis. He flirted with the leader's girl. We thought he was going to go ballistic when they got near his bike. He totally owned them though. He told them to go mess with our bikes actually, yeah?" Dwayne shot Paul a look for confirmation. Max rolled his eyes and returned to his customers.
"I mean, they backed off at first until he started flirting with the guy's girl again. We wanted a fight, not that the guy stood a chance. He was like a foot smaller than all of them."
"Where is this going?" David muttered with drifting attention.
"He actually did a wheelie and almost ran the guy over!" Paul exclaimed, laughing. "He was petrified. It looked like he pissed himself. You just had to be there." Maybe, the retelling didn't represent very well.
Dwayne beckoned for them to leave the video store. "We were thinking about him becoming one of us. His bike is just as fast if not faster. Paul volunteered to tail him next time he comes to the Boardwalk."
David mulled the idea over and shoved his hands into his overcoat's pockets. "Paul is going to tail him? Mmm, can you handle that?"
"I'm ready for a baby brother."
Nodding, the leader led the boys toward their motorcycles, and he spotted a group of surfers; the tallest male spewed a fake story about how he kicked a teenager's ass. He placed his trust in Paul this time, knowing the time had come. "Let's go for a ride boys. The night is young," David insisted, revving his motorcycle.