Chapter 6
Chapter six
Hendrix · Then
Heaven Is A Halfpipe – OPM
Fourteen Years Old
The crisp echo of glass shattering against a wall follows me up the stairs.
I slip through the open door of my bedroom before sliding it shut behind me.
Even with the heavy slab of wood between us, my mum’s heaving sobs reach my bedroom. I walk over to the window as my dad slides into the driver’s seat of his old Prius.
The engine roars to life, headlights flood the dark road, and tyres hiss as he tears away from the curb.
My parents have never had a good relationship—they argue every day, and have done for as long as I can remember. My dad's drinking, my mum's need to always have him around. I wouldn't call any of it healthy.
But since moving to Chesterton for my dad’s new job, things have somehow gotten worse.
Mum blames Dad for uprooting our lives. Dad blames Mum for birthing me.
And I get the blame for everything in between.
More glass shatters.
I don’t need to go downstairs to know my mum is trashing the kitchen in a fit of rage. It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last.
I grab my backpack from where I dropped it after school. The contents fall onto my bed when I tip it upside down. I pocket my phone before wrapping a black hoodie around my waist and locking my bedroom door.
My skateboard in hand, I twist the latch on my window and shove it up. Poking my head over the ledge, I judge the distance to the ground.
Could be worse.
I toss the skateboard out first, aiming for one of the shrubs before sliding my legs out and jumping down.
My knees shake from the impact.
I pause a beat, letting my muscles loosen before I straighten and tiptoe around the front of the house.
My mum is still in the kitchen when I look through the window. Head in her hands, she sits at the breakfast bar with tears streaming down her cheeks. Maybe a better daughter would feel bad. But I’ve done the caring routine before. All it ever does is turn her anger on me.
Tucking my skateboard under my arm, I tug out my phone. I Google the park I heard some kids talking about in the dining room earlier, then set off in that direction.
If we were back home in London, I’d hide out in the garage with my acoustic guitar until my mum passes out.
But she locked it away in the attic after a screaming match with my dad last week and hasn't put the key back in her bedroom since.
Skating is the next best thing to take me away from the fallout of another fight.
It takes me a good twenty-minutes to cross the town and hit the park.
The rattle of wheels against concrete greets me when I make my way down the tree-shadowed path. Lights flicker, rock music plays from a speaker somewhere, and the clink of metal is a welcoming sound.
I take it all in, my gaze flitting over the huddles of people dotted around the space.
I’m about to head for the smallest, emptier ramp when a familiar voice sounds behind me.
“Hey, new girl.”
An arm wraps around my shoulders, and I tip my head back. “Hey, Saint.”
“Fancy seeing you here." He smiles as he brushes his hair out of his eyes and looks down at me. “I didn’t know you skated.”
“You didn’t ask,” I quip.
Since I started at Chesterton Grove, Saint has been on a mission to learn everything about me. Every day, he comes up with a new list of twenty questions. Who knew being the new kid in town was so interesting
“Is it just you here?” I ask him, my gaze darting over the park.
“Wow.” He laughs, dragging a cigarette from a half-crushed packet. “Don’t sound so disappointed at the thought.”
I tut and shake my head. “Give over.”
“Hey, it’s cool.” His blue eyes glitter as he flicks the wheel on a lighter, fire sparking beneath his mouth. “I get it. You wanna know if Cole's around.”
“Not what I was asking.”
“Sure it’s not.” He rocks my shoulder with his. “Then you also don’t want to know I saw him talking to Elaine the Pain a moment ago.”
I rock him back, maybe harder than needed. “Nope. Not my business.”
“Whatever you say. Wanna show me your skills?”
Taking the out he offers, I drop my board, place one foot onto the deck, and push away the lingering image of Cole and Elaine sitting heavy on my mind as the wheels carry me across the metal.
I’m not jealous over a guy I met a month ago.
That would be stupid.
Sure, he’s cute, with his floppy black hair and honey brown eyes. And okay, Saint told me Cole thought I was pretty when we were sitting in the hall waiting for French class the other day. And yes, I’ve thought of little else since. But he’s not shown much interest outside of casual chatting.
So, I. Don’t. Care.
Saint claps as I finish a simple trick on the quarter-pipe.
I giggle and take a bow.
I wouldn’t say I’m good at skateboarding. I usually have scabs on my knees from all the times I've fallen, and I come off it more than I stay on, but I love it anyway.
“Not bad, new girl. Not bad. You know who is real good at skating and can teach you a thing or two?” He leans close to me, his voice dropping an octave as he whispers, “My best friend, Cole Hayes.”
I don’t have the chance to tell him to zip it before he cups his hands to his mouth and hollers for Cole.
Blistering heat crawls up my neck and onto my cheeks.
I’m not against getting to know Cole better, but fear bogs me every time we're close.
I’m not sure what it is about him.
There’s just something magnetic about being in his presence. He draws me in in a way I've never experienced with another person, and I don’t know how to deal with that.
“’Sup?” Cole says as he walks towards us. The chain hanging from his jeans jingles when he stops at my side. He looks down at me with a crooked grin. “Hey, Rixie.”
I wiggle my fingers in a half wave. “Hiya.”
“You skate?”
“Sometimes. I’m not very good.”
“You should teach her,” Saint says, looking too fucking smug as he walks backward. “I would, but I’ve just seen the love of my life walking through the park, and I must go chase after her.”
He turns and starts jogging towards the park opposite. “Peace out, my dudes.”
“The love of his life?” I ask Cole as he grabs my board and starts toward a small ramp.
“Theo.”
“The ballet dancer girl?” I follow his lead as he gestures for me to step onto the board. His hands squeeze my waist to steady my balance. I shudder as his heat soaks into my skin. “Doesn’t she like totally hate him?”
Cole’s laugh is a deep rumble, and my stomach flutters.
“It’s a whole thing. He’s obsessed with her.”
“And she’s not with him?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Why doesn’t he just give up?”
Cole doesn’t answer straight away.
My skin pebbles as his fingertips trail the edge of my tight T-shirt. He rounds the board, bringing us face to face.
I don’t think I’ve ever been so close to someone. His mouth is a mere breath from mine—it would be so easy to lean in and steal my first kiss from him.
Time slows, the park dimming around me as I trace the lines of his lips.
I gulp.
A crash of metal sounds behind us.
I jolt, shaking my head. I force the errant thoughts away as Cole steers me across the skate park. The wheels of my board roll with each slow step he takes, and before I know it, I’m riding with only Cole as my anchor.
“Saint chases highs,” Cole finally says, brows dipped as his gaze slips past my shoulder onto the darkened field. “Theo is his ultimate one. She doesn’t bend for him. He’s constantly on the up with her. It’s where he thrives.”
“Is that healthy?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. But, there are worse vices to have than a pretty girl.” His eyes zero on mine, and I’m too busy staring into the deep depths to realise he’s set me free. My arms flail as he pushes me up the ramp. “Show me what you got.”
Bending, I attempt to jump into an ollie, but I overshoot. The tail of my board kicks up behind me. It hits the back of my knees and sends me flying.
Cole’s arms snake around my back when I fall into him. He careens backwards and lands on the ground with a thud and a curse. His hands move to my hips, holding me in place as I crash on top of him.
“Shit. I’m so sorry.” I cup his cheeks and twist his head left and right, scanning for any signs of injury. “Are you okay?”
“Never better,” he grunts. He curls his palms around my wrists, and shifts until we're sitting up, my knees falling either side of his legs. “What’s the saying? No shame, no gain?”
“It’s no pain, no gain, dude.”
“Ah, fuck. Blame the concussion.”
Heart racing, I jump up and reach for my phone to dial 999.
He nudges my hand away as he gets to his feet. “Hey! I'm just kidding.”
“How many fingers?” I hold my hand up.
“One.” He folds my index finger down. “Two.” Then, my middle. “And three.” Finally my thumb. “See? All good. No concussion.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. It’ll take more than a pretty girl to put me down for long.”
My pulse flutters. “You think I’m pretty?”
“Rixie Moore.” He shakes his head, threading our fingers together, as his face lights up with the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen. “You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”