Sanny

That day, school was just as dull and draining as always. The classes blurred together, the neon lights vibrated coldly on the ceiling, and by the second break I already knew my mind wasn’ t really here. I just wanted to survive the day so I could finally be outside. When the bell rang, I grabbed my backpack and practically ran for the yard.

In the park the others were already there—my little crew. We weren’t exactly great at skateboarding, but at least together we didn’t feel like fools. They’d taught me that music wasn’t just background noise but something that pulled you through the days. We sat on the concrete ledge for a while, someone brought a cassette player, and we listened to the tracks we already knew by heart.

– You coming out tonight? my buddy asked, trying the same simple ollie over and over.

– Maybe, I shrugged. – I’ll see.

I didn’t say it out loud, but I knew I’d take a detour home.

The wheels of my board hummed evenly on the pavement. My headphones muted the world, and when I hit play on a rough demo copy of a TDE track—something that sounded terrible, like a badly duplicated rehearsal recording—it still felt like I could suddenly breathe again. I wasn’t a good skater. I just drifted. But there was one place in the city where I always felt like something could happen:

The walls of the abandoned house.

They were covered in old graffiti—colors all but faded, names that probably meant nothing except to whoever had sprayed them. I always carried a can of black spray paint in my backpack. Not out of bravado—more out of hope. When I got there, I stopped and just stared at the wall. I imagined where a new mark could fit. One that was mine.

Then I heard laughter behind the house.

I took off my headphones and crept closer. A section of the wire fence had long since torn open. I peered through.

There they were. The band. TDE, as my friends and I called them.

In that moment, a memory from a few years back crept in: the school hallway, the clamor. My skate-park friends and I stood by the lockers when we saw three football players picking on Roxy. They laughed loudly, leaning too close. Roxy tried to keep her cool, but you could see how fed up she was.

Then Nova simply walked up to them.

She didn’t hurry. She didn’t shout. She looked like forty kilos soaking wet, yet she filled the space as if everyone else were just extras. She stopped in front of the guys, pulled Roxy close, and kissed her so intensely that even my legs shook. Then, with deadly calm, she called out the three football players and sent them packing. The hallway went quiet for a moment. I stood there with my friends, and right then I decided that one day I wanted to be present in the world like that.

When I climbed through the gap in the fence, I paused. Not because I didn’t know where to go, but because everything suddenly felt too real. They were sitting just a few meters away—the same people I’d only seen once playing a concert in the park, messing around on their boards. The same people I’d admired as total legends… at least to me.

Nova was the first to notice me. She didn’t say a word. She just looked up at me, sizing me up slowly, as if deciding whether I belonged in the scene or was just background noise. Her gaze wasn’t hostile, but it wasn’t friendly either. It was calm. So calm it made me question myself.

I tried not to stare, but I couldn’t. Cayde was tapping the sole of his shoe, Roxy leaned against the wall sipping from a can, and Vexley sat off to the side talking to Nova. The whole tableau was somehow much simpler than in my head—and all the more striking for it.

I’d heard Cayde’s voice at school before—his easy, half-English accent that literally made the girls melt. Secretly, I liked it too, but I’d sooner bite the wheel off my own skateboard than let anyone know.

Now Cayde looked me up and down, then gave me a half-smile.

– Well, darling, lost your way? If you want, I can help you get home! he said, grinning like he didn’t take himself seriously at all. His tone was playful, but there was a subtle come-on there—not pushy, just that kind of attention you can’t ignore, accent dialed up to maximum flirt.

I felt a flush of heat. Then I stubbornly lifted my chin.

– In your dreams, buddy… I said. – I’m here to paint.

Roxy laughed—out loud! Vexley looked up as if he’d really heard me for the first time. Nova’s lips curved into a barely noticeable half-smile. Cayde just nodded, still grinning.

– Okay… fair enough.

– Mind if I spray something on the wall? I finally asked Nova, my voice quieter than I’d have liked, but at least it didn’t crack. I counted that as a win.

Nova looked at me for a moment with a grin, then gave a slow, casual shrug.

– We’re just hanging out, she said. – Do what you want.

Cayde grinned and tilted his head. – If you’ve got the gear, go for it.

My heart was pounding in my throat by then. I sat back on the concrete ledge, pulled out a cigarette, and tried to light it like it was the most natural thing in the world. The sun was warm on my back, the tape deck buzzed softly, and I kept stealing glances at them. I couldn’t believe I was actually sitting there with them and had just talked back to Cayde Hawkins.

Finally, I pulled my own black paint from my bag. I always carried it, but this was the first time it mattered. I shook the can; the metallic rattle sounded too loud. When the first hiss came, I held my breath. Then my hand started doing its thing. Lines flowed one after another. I didn’t think. I just let it happen.

When I was done, I stepped back.

There was silence for a moment. Not that big, awestruck hush—more like the quiet that falls when something new enters the frame. Nova surveyed the wall, then shrugged as if filing away a new detail. She said nothing. Vexley gave a slow, approving nod. Cayde snorted a short, appreciative chuckle.

– Okay.

Roxy stared at the paint a little longer, then looked at me and smiled. Not a big gesture—just… human.

After that, it felt natural, and I sat down among them.

The tape deck droned on, the sky overhead shifting from orange to purple. We talked about everything and nothing. Sometimes we just sat in silence. No one made a big deal about me being there. And that’s exactly what made it significant.

When I finally got up, the air had turned cool. I slid my board under my foot but didn’t push off.

First I looked back at them.

Then at the wall.

At the fresh black lines among the old, faded tags:

I WAS HERE. I FELT IT.