Kicks: Chapter 1

By susiemango

A/N: The main character is indeed Spanish. I've taken three years of the language so it shouldn't be to horrible. If you speak spanish I'm sorry and I do know that accentos and tildes are probably missing from this. I would gladly put them in if I knew how to on this computer ; sorries again...

I hate this class, I don't need words to express myself in French. All I need is my finger and my voice. In fact, look over here Mrs. Fleece, I'm expressing myself right now. Quite clearly, you should be proud. I can summarize my sentiments towards the entire world and life in general universally with one quick flick of a finger. But she's not looking, though the girl in the front row is. She seems amused, but I don't really give a shit. I direct my gaze towards her and she realizes that she's been caught and looks away. Chicken. Though she is kinda hot, long auburn hair, green eyes, looks great in her leather. A hot chicken with nice legs. Nonetheless not my type. I can tell these things.

The days passes quickly, and fortunately uneventfully. Though I do wind up passing someone of great annoyance to me on my escape.

"Hola Gabriel, que pasa?"

"Asi asi Marco," I mutter trying to force my way through the crowd.

"Muy bien gracias. Hasta luego!" He shouts as I disappear.

"Uh huh ciao gringo." I don't think he knows what gringo means. I bet he thinks it's a pet name. He'll learn later in the year after he watches El Norte. Though I must admit I don't think I understand the full meaning of the word itself, I'm Spanish not Mexican. Big difference there, culturally and language wise. They learn more Mexican culture than Spanish in the classes at this school.

It's cold outside, and I'm wearing a T-shirt and no jacket, it's stupid of me really. I'm anorexically thin because of my poor diet and painfully bad self image. Not my problem though that I can't afford a jacket, I didn't start my expensive bad habits. They're local hand me downs. The cigarette is the only thing keeping me warm, so decide to find someplace out of the way of the wind to savor it. The closest thing is the alley by the playground. I feel sick everytime I walk by here. I know what goes on in this alley. It's where the pedophiles get their kicks watching all the kids. Shuddering at the thought I take a drag, it calms my nerves and I start to feel better. The kids entertain me too, so bundled up that they can't get up when they fall over. The site makes me wish I had a parent that cares enough to overdress me when it starts to get cold. But I don't so I might as well get over it.

The cigarette's been smoked to the filter and I stub it out on the sticky wall behind me and feel disgusting once I realize I leaned against it. I reach into my pocket and pull out the pack, no more. Lately my pack a day and a hit habit has been limited to half a pack and hit due to money constrictions. Today I only got three. Frustrated I start out, crossing the street to the playground, rubbing my arms furiously in an attempt to get warm. I'm about to turn down my road when an obnoxiously cute voice calls my name, better yet it pronounces it correctly. A gap-tooth grin greets me, surrounded by a filthy forest green hood. I smile back at him, replying pleasantly and bend over to give him a hug. The kids name is Jesus, it's pronounced like "hey Zeus", it's a respectable name but I know he's gonna be given hell for it when he's older, just like his brother Angel. His mother watches us closely while we talk. Most of the parents at this place know me. When the weather is nice I stay and play with the kids. But some of them know me outside of the playground and my rep there isn't quite as nice. Good for nothing suicidal druggies like me shouldn't be out playing with pure children named after biblical figures. I have to say I'm inclined to agree.

The kids mother yells at him to come back and I'm left friendless. Under normal circumstances I wouldn't head home but it's too cold to go anywhere else. I can see my breath in the air and my fingers are nearly blue. Another shiver and futile attempt at warming myself and I start walking again. Some jerk shoves into me, no reason too, we're the only ones on the sidewalk.

"Hey asshole the sidewalk not big enough for you?" I yell, I have a right to seeing as I've just been hassled. He turns around and looks at me concerned. Tall, long blonde hair, blue-eyes. He'd be real knock out if he was a girl.

"Sorry wasn't watching where I was going," he says, seeming genuinely sorry. I give him a look that is spoiled by my chattering teeth and shivering and turn to go on my way. "Hey you want one of my coats? You look half frozen," he says following me.

" I am frozen. Thanks for noticing," I reply, shrugging his hand off my shoulder.

"Then why don't you take my coat? I'm wearing two," he starts to take off one of his coats, and I try to move faster. He's about eight inches taller, therefore his legs are far longer making him faster. Out of the blue his voice registers in my memory. He's one of the popular guys from school, and strangely enough flamingly gay. Makes me wonder why he's wondering around my part of town. He looks too well off to be in the ghetto.

"What do you want for it? I'll have you know despite my reputation I'm not gay and I don't do sexual favors," I spit out bitterly. Still no matter how fast I move he's quicker.

"I don't want anything. I'm giving it to you," he says draping the coat over my shoulders. It's cursedly warm, I want to accept it so badly.

" I don't need your fucking charity," I growl. Such a cliché line. My building is up ahead, freedom is near. I take my chance and sprint, leaving him behind as I slam shut the door. He keeps walking towards my apartment building and stands outside looking up. He looks smug and I realize why. I didn't give him back the coat.