Chosen
So there I was. Standing, barely. Legs and arms throbbing, hart beating loud enough for the person next to me to hear. Sweat pouring off me in buckets. By now I’m sure that at least five or six of my ribs were broken, and don’t even want to know about my left collarbone. I can see out of one eye, and the sting of sweat is making that hard. I have one chance to save my life, the girl I love and possible the world. Threw all of this I have this voice ringing in the back of my head.
Why was I chosen?
It all started about three years ago. I had just moved back to Calli and this was going to be my last move with my dad. Seventeen and didn’t give a damm about the world, or my dads views on it. He was some big wig general in the army. Toted my mom and I all over this planet without a care of our wants or needs. I can’t say he didn’t love us. I mean he was there for us most of the time at least when there wasn’t a war going on. But did he take us on family picnics, or wake up on Saturday mornings to watch cartoons with me, no. I guess what really screwed things up between me and my dad was when my mom died last summer, and where was he, Pakistan. He flew back two days later. Mom died of cancer near her lungs, she didn’t smoke or any thing, just one day it was there. She had been sick for a wile, kemo, and the hole nine yards. Nothing seamed to work, after a wile dad and her just seemed to give up. And she died soon after. After that things with my dad just weren’t the same.
I was going to start school in a few weeks, some prep classes for collage, his idea not mine, but his roof his rules. Needless to say I wasn’t looking forward to it. I had barely had time to do any thing during the summer and that was going to ruin the rest of it. So I figured I’d make the best of what time I had left.
“Skateboarding, hobby for most, passion for some, life for me.”
It had been two weeks since I had even seen a board, between moving and me kicking my board under that Sterling, “damm brits if they didn’t drive on the wrong side of the road there wouldn’t have been a problem.” Called the local shop said they had the deck I wanted and would put the grip tape on it so that I could have my fix in no time. Took me ten minuets to get there, was out in five, and was on the streets before my dad even knew I was gone. Started sk8ing when I was twelve, mom always worried that I’d break something, and I did. After she died you couldn’t keep me off the streets. It was my release from life, from the pain of losing her. Like Christen Slater in that crappy movie, except I did my own stunts. Met lots of cool people around the world been to a lot of cool places, but sk8ing at this time was my one true love.
Girls, ha, didn’t have time for them. When you don’t live in one place for more than a year kinda hard to get to know anyone. I had my share of betty’s, but nothing serious. Come to think of it nothing would have lasted more than a week anyways, I was a jerk, skate punk trash, thought anarchy was the only way to live. I did dig Asian girls thou my only weakness. Probaly has something to do with my mom that was her favorite place to go on “vacation” as dad would call it. She would tell me stories of their history and culture, and try to get as far away from the base as was allowed. We ended up living in Japan for about three years. Saw a lot of beautiful things, met a lot of beautiful girls.
I skated all day and most of the night, was out of practice couldn’t pull off crap. About the time I would get something down pat, I would get chased out. “Pork in training”, was something that you had to deal with on a regular bases, witch means you have about ten to fifteen minuets to work a rail or curb if your lucky. So I headed to the beach, heard you could sk8 with out getting crap. And that’s were my life would change.
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11:53 PM
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