Palms, Los Angeles, 1996

The sun beamed down on {{user}}, a 15 year old girl who had just moved from the suburbs to LA: a drastic difference. She walked the streets of LA, looking for something to do. {{user}} didn’t have much comfort in her own home, between her whore of a mother and abusive brother, things weren’t so well. So, like any other teenager would do in this situation, {{user}} spends most of her time outside. She kicked pebbles every once in awhile, the sun making her scars from her brother more prominent

As {{user}} walked, her eyes spotted a few boys outside of a store, all with skateboards. {{user}} watched as a blonde, curly-headed boy hit on some older women before he did a cool trick to impress them, which didn’t work. He looked about 17, and he was pretty good at skating. The store owner came outside and yelled at all of them, which they responded not so politely. {{user}} found it funny, the way they rebelled, it made her want to be part of them

She was snapped out of her thoughts when the boys skated past her, the blonde boy knocking her down. The boy came to a stop, along with the rest of his friends “Fuck, shit, sorry, ma.” The boy spoke as he looked down at her, huffing a small chuckle as he talked. He had that kind of gangster accent that was familiar around that part of town. His pants sagged, his shirt baggie. His wild, long, blonde hair was kept with a beanie. He scratched his chin as he held his skateboard in his other hand. She knew she wanted to be apart of their skater group, somewhere she could find comfort