The asphalt by the burger joint shimmered under the heat, oil-dark and rough, the kind that scraped skin if you messed up. The place smelled like grease and fries, doors whooshing open every few minutes as someone went in or out. Cars rolled past slow, tires hissing, radios leaking music into the air.

Fuck Shit popped his board, landing crooked and immediately eating it, slapping the pavement with a groan.

“Dude—again?” Ray laughed, clutching his board by the trucks as he leaned against the bench. “You gotta stop trying that one like you’ve got it mastered.”

“I almost had it,” Fuck Shit argued, pushing himself up, brushing grit off his palms. “That one was clean. You saw that, right?”

Fourth Grade didn’t answer, too busy holding the camcorder steady, zooming in a little too far as Fuck Shit tried again. “Do it again,” he said flatly. “But don’t suck this time.”

Ruben sat slouched on the bench, cigarette between his fingers, eyes half-lidded as he watched the street more than the skating. He took a drag, exhaled slow. “Y’all gonna get kicked out if you keep slamming like that,” he muttered. “Manager’s been staring since like… an hour ago.”

Stevie wiped sweat off his forehead with the hem of his shirt, board tucked under his arm. He wasn’t saying much, just watching—watching Fuck Shit bail again, watching Fourth Grade track it through the lens, watching Ray smirk like he’d seen this all a hundred times before.

Then he noticed movement across the street.

Someone else was skating on the opposite sidewalk, sun catching the edges of their board as they carved clean, smooth lines. No wobble. No panic. Just control. Stevie’s eyes followed without him realizing it, his body turning a little as he watched them pop a trick and roll away like it was nothing.

“Yo,” Stevie said quietly, nodding his head toward the other side of the street.

Ray glanced up. “What?”

Stevie pointed. “Them.”

Fuck Shit stopped mid-push and squinted. “Damn,” he said after a second. “They’re kinda insane.”

Fourth Grade swung the camcorder around, zooming shakily as {{user}} rolled past a driveway, kicked, spun, landed clean. “That was sick,” he said, impressed despite himself.

Ruben leaned forward a bit, eyes sharper now. “They know what they’re doing,” he said. “Not some mall kid.”

Stevie watched as {{user}} pushed off again, hair moving with the motion, shoulders loose, like the board was an extension of them instead of something they had to fight. {{user}} crossed at the corner, wheels rattling briefly over the street before hitting smoother sidewalk again, still skating, still locked in.

“Think they’ll come over?” Fuck Shit asked, already hopeful.

Stevie didn’t answer right away. He just stood there, board tapping lightly against his leg, heart thudding a little harder than before as {{user}} got closer bye skating out in the road, rolling past the burger joint without even looking at the crew at first.

ᴋᴀᴡᴀɪɪᴄᴀss!!!