"Suspended in Air"

Inspired by Ellen Hopkins; author of Crank

Chapter 2:

My whole life, I've never been brave. Although, I do like to pretend. I've never stared anything down that didn't whip my ass first. I just put up a good front. That's the way it is with me, always thinking what I should have done after the time to do it is over.

That's how it was that hot August night, when those three rich kids piled out of that black Land Rover screaming, "Good-for-nothing thief! Where gonna' kick your ass!" I was running scared before I ever saw the metal baseball bat one of them was swinging.

Deep down, I knew they were part right. I was a damn thief. I'd cross Fukka into Garderobe, looking for a decent car to heist.

I tripped on the cracked sidewalk, banging my chin on the concrete and scraping my palms raw. Before I could get back up, those bastards were right on top of me. I recognized the fat kid from around school—before I'd dropped out. I never knew his name. He cocked the bat in both hands as the skinny dude was kicking at me. Suddenly, I could hear the air whistle next to my left ear as the bat was brought down.

CRACK!

The fat kid had slammed the bat down with enough force to crush my head. Luckily, I dodged just in time and the metal collided with concrete.

A lightning bolt of pain shot through me as the skinny kid's shoe struck me in the temple. I could feel the warm blood on my face. It tasted bitter as it dripped into my mouth. For a few seconds I was seeing double, and there were six of them instead of three.

"You wanna' steal from us, huh?" screamed the tall kid with the goatee. "Let's see if you try to pull that stunt again after we're through with you."

My legs started pedaling on instinct, like I was on a ten-speed, fighting him off.

"Turn 'er over!" barked the fat kid through his clenched teeth, throwing the bat up high, ready for the next blow.

I brought my arms up to protect my skull as I kicked like a raging bull. I managed to slam my foot into the fat kid's shin and he was failed as if by dynamite. He sure did howl over that. I clawed at the pavement, pulling myself up as quickly as possible. My head was pounding so bad it hurt to think but I managed to take one last look back.

My eyes caught sight of the bat. Then I saw the logo across the red aluminum barrel—the gold letters that spelled out; Suspended in Air.

"Holy shit!" Corey Lee says, spitting her words out and raising her eyebrows in an expression no one would dare argue with. "What happened to you?"

I ignored her question and stepped inside, moving past her as she held the door open.

I collapsed on the couch and looked into those big blue eyes she's so proud of, especially since she got her contacts. She used to have horrible plastic glasses, with really thick lenses, and she was squinting all the time. Near-sighted, astigmatic and with a twinkle in her eye, as my mother would say. She carried the burden of it all through her childhood. Since she swapped her glasses for two tiny lenses, it's as if she wanted to make the whole world pay for her past humiliations.

She's getting her revenge.

Sometimes all you can see in her eyes is anger and contempt, or—worse than that—she's lying and her eyes are dressed up in this immeasurable innocence, all blue and transparent as she talks to one of her teachers, or to a cop.

It's funny the way she sometimes speaks, deliberately foul-mouthed and hard, as if she's saying, 'I'm free now and no one can pull me down.'

I settle into the couch, not caring too much that blood is dripping all over the cushions. Corey Lee settles down at the other end of the sofa, throwing a dirty t-shirt at me and motioning towards the gash on the side of my head.

"Come on, Natsuki. Tell me what the hell happened to you," her voice leaving no room for argument.

I sigh and dab at the blood on my face. "Remember that Lexus I made off with?"

"Damn. You got caught? How many were there?"

I held up three fingers and I couldn't help but smirk with pride. I had held my own with three of those punks. Anyone's ego would get a boost if you survived that with only a single head wound.

"You can get six G's from the dude down at the chop shop for a Lex; wouldn't matter what model it was," she told me with a grin. I watched as her smile grew even wider as her blue eyes lit up with mischief. "Hey, what do you say we celebrate your success?"

She pulled a bindle from her pocket, tapped the sparkly powder inside.

"Cooked up fresh yesterday."

My nose ignited as fire spread throughout my veins. Demons bite through cartilage and sinuses, taking aim at my brain as shock waves of energy mushroom inside my head. It annihilates the barriers I spent my life cultivating; brings down the walls and unleashes floodwaters. And all the while fire continues to lick at arteries and capillaries.

Pushing, rushing, raging torrents pounding against your heart.

I've found that I'm really enjoying writing this story. I guess the reason why is because it hits pretty close to home. Don't do drugs, kids. I've seen how bad it can fuck people up. And let me tell you, it's not fun.

On another note, the character Corey Lee is basically me. I'd figured it'd be fun to have a character that is completely mine; not Sunrise's. Ha Ha! Take that Sunrise!

-BlueIV