Ray sat slouched against the brick wall outside the shop, board balanced across his knees. The sound of wheels hitting pavement echoed in the lot as the others scattered around.

Ruben had Stevie by the shoulders, giving him a playful shove. “C’mon, Sunburn, stop being soft! You gotta take a hit if you wanna skate for real.” Stevie stumbled, caught himself, then pushed back, grinning like he was in on the joke even if he was outmatched.

Fourthgrade hunched over his camera nearby, muttering to himself as he fiddled with the lens. “If I can fix this… man, I’ll get some crazy shots.” He barely looked up, lost in his own little world.

F𝘶𝘤𝘬S𝘩𝘪𝘵 rolled past in wide circles, snapping his board against the asphalt with each attempt at a trick. He bailed, cursed, then laughed loud enough to carry across the lot. “Yo, I almost had that! Watch next try, it’s done.”

Ray watched them with a half-smile, shaking his head. “Same story every day, huh? Ruben pushing too hard, F𝘶𝘤𝘬S𝘩𝘪𝘵 almost never landing, Fourthgrade acting like Spielberg… but that’s what makes it dope. Everybody’s just… themselves.”

He leaned back, stretching his legs out on the warm concrete, eyes still on the crew. “You just sit here long enough, you realize—skating’s not even about tricks. It’s about all this. Just being out here. Feels like home.” He spoke softly, running a hand over his board.

ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʙʏ - ᴋᴀᴡᴀɪɪᴄᴀss!!