The wind whipped her hair behind her, and her stomach swooped as she pushed off the ground. She flipped the board halfway up and landed down, bending her knees and grunting at the effort. Turning herself around, Maisie chuckled, exhilarated. 

There weren't too many others at the skate park. Some younger kids were taking turns on their bicycles. A few of the Grunge Boys, as Maisie liked to call them, were smoking cigarettes and showing off their skateboard flips. On one of the benches nearby, a couple was engaged in a heated session of trying to eat each other's faces off. 

Maisie ignored their PDA.

Breathing a little heavily, she dusted her jeans and pulled up the sleeves of her shirt to her elbows. 

Deciding that she would go again once more before heading home, Maisie braced her foot on the rear of the board and lifted its other end high. 

There was a sharp jab exactly in between her shoulder blades. 

Before she knew it, she was tumbling down. Her palms scraped against the rough concrete, she hit her head, and she had to let go of her skateboard. 

She came to a stop at the bottom, breathing hard and angry beyond explanation. Her skateboard grated to a stop beside her.

At the top, three faces peered down at her. 

"Back at it again, poser?" One of them leered. He mockingly raised his arms above his head and pretended to balance on a skateboard. 

"Stay the fuck away from me, Harry!" Maisie pushed herself to her feet. The grazes on her palms burnt and her lip stung. But the slight embarrassment stung more than that.

Harry and his two personal ape-sized guards, Troy and Stanley, laughed. 

Such stereotypical bullies. 

Maisie really thought they needed to up their bullying game. All this was getting old and boring and predictable. 

Maisie flipped them the finger, "Shove your board up your arse, losers."

The three of them let out low, drawn out sounds of disapproval. 

"We've got something we want to shove in somewhere, know what I mean?" Troy asked, snorting ungracefully as he laughed at his own disgusting joke, "Because we're guys, get it?" 

"Get out of the park, poser," Harry shouted down, "Or we'll make sure you have a reason to not come back here."

"Oh you've given me plenty of reasons," Maisie shook her head, beginning to walk towards the upwards slope. She tossed her board up, heard it clatter. 

"See, I was just thinking," Maisie said loudly. She looked around and noticed that other people were beginning to pay attention. Perfect. She went on, "You guys need to come up with new ways to insult me."

The confusion on all three of their dumb faces was priceless. Maisie wished she had camera eyes. 

She pulled herself up and out of the skate pit. Casually and deliberately, she tidied up her hair, fixed her sleeves, and tied her shoelaces. 

"All you guys can say is 'You're black as fuck, Maisie' or 'Get out, Poser'," Maisie changed her voice to sound deeper, then laughed, "Quite basic."

"We'll show you basic," Harry snarled, "Who do you think you—"

"Now wait just one minute," Maisie held up her finger, and shoved Harry backwards, "I didn't say you could come so close to me. How desperate are you exactly?" 

"How desperate are you?" Troy shot back, "You just come here because people say it's cool, don't you?" 

"I see you speak from experience, Troy," Maisie said, feigning disappointment, "Bet i could beat your arse at a skate-off, though."

Stanley sniggered, then quickly shut up when Harry elbowed him. 

"Nice seeing you boys," Maisie said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. She kicked her board up and caught it, "Although it's quite sad how immature you guys are."

She pushed past them, stepping on Harry's foot on the way and muttering a 'fuck you'.

On her way back home, she bumped into Shay. He was just heading back from school soccer practice. 

"Where did you get stuck?" Maisie asked, grinning at how annoyed he looked. 

"Jonathan," Shay mumbled, limping a little on one foot, "He tripped me. It was a foul, clear as day, but he blamed it on me. I had to do fifty rounds! Fifty!" 

He held up five fingers. 

"That's five."

"Multiply it by ten."

"I don't have enough hands."

Shay huffed a laugh, "Oh, you think you're so funny, don't you?" 

He lived in a small apartment building near where Maisie's house was. Sometimes they would accompany each other on their walk to school in the mornings. 

They stopped near the fire escape to Shay's apartment. 

"Hey, how's your—"

"No."

Maisie stopped herself and nodded. There was a beat of silence in which someone on a cycle whizzed past. It was already late evening. 

"See you tomorrow, then," Maisie said at last, patting his shoulder. His muscles were tensed up. She went on, "Or at Dana's, if you aren't coming tomorrow."

"Right," Shay's eyebrows raised a little, "Dana's. Saturday. That's day after."

"I knew that."

"Yes I know, I was just pointing it out."

"Get yourself a calender, honestly."

"No, see the joke was—"

"I don't need an explanation!" Maisie waved him off, beginning to walk away. 

~

Shay climbed up the metal stairs with a slump. His muscles ached and he could feel a migraine building up. 

He fished for his keys in his pocket and pushed open the door soon after. 

Pushing the frown off his face and straightening his hair, he called out, "I'm home!" 

"Shay!" 

Shay winced. 

His mother came out of the kitchen door down the hall, smiling widely and looking very happy. 

"Shay! You're back!" 

She was a middle aged woman, probably in her mid forties, and looked to be in perfect health. 

With a squeal, she clung onto Shay, "You're back home!" 

"Yep, I'm back," Shay hugged her back, sighing as he did. 

"Music? Music time?" 

His mother let go of him and looked at him with wide eyes that sparkled with anticipation. 

"Music time indeed," Shay kicked off his studs and quickly took off his socks.

His ukulele was already on the couch. He picked it up and began strumming. 

He didn't let his tiredness seep through for the next half an hour. His mother was sat peacefully, a half smile on her face as she sometimes swayed with the strumming. She even sang sometimes, or hummed along. 

When Shay finished the last song, she clapped for him, "I'm so proud of you. Grandma would be proud too."

Shay placed the ukulele down and flexed his fingers to get blood flowing in them again, "Yeah I'm sure she would be."

"Kyla?" His mother pointed to a small picture frame on the side table, "When is she coming again?"

"I'll ask her to come visit tomorrow," Shay acknowledged, then clapped his hands once, "Now. Do you need help with dinner?" 

His mother squealed excitedly again and pulled him to the kitchen.