MARCH 2007

The first time Alex saw Jem, he was in a pickle.

Having acquired a used skateboard from his friend as a going away gift, a dreary, cloudy morning had seemed best to practice it. It was a well-worn skateboard- with graffiti and scribbles, for a lot of which he had to be thanked. It had been his skateboard for roughly two weeks but before that, he and Ronan hadn't hesitated to cover it with paint and markers. It was the product of a four year long friendship and two creative, frustrated boys with nimble hands and whole galaxies in their minds. The skateboard suffered greatly having being painted on over and over so that it was covered with layers and layers of spray on paint and Sharpie. It was a shame, really, that Alex never learned to ride it because Ronan had been pretty good at it. Alex would usually sit at a side, laugh at his friend, play obnoxiously loud music and watch Ronan attempt stunts and impress passers-by. It had resulted in a lot of injures, most of which Alex had to tend to.

The skateboard was a precious thing; the sort swimming in nostalgia and four years' worth of memories. It was a dusty old thing.

Anyway, he had decided to learn to ride it, thinking that he owed it to Ronan to at least attempt. The wind was sharp and icy and every gust seared his face but Alex pulled his hoodie over his head (to you know, get into character) and clutched the skateboard under his armpit. He thought he looked cool but he probably looked like a juvenile delinquent, on his way to bash someone's head in with his skateboard. But that couldn't be helped.

There was a small parking lot a few blocks over with a sort of concrete bowl in the ground. The parking lot was always empty so Alex figured that there wouldn't at least be an audience to watch him fall on his butt and get slammed in the face with the skateboard.

He had been attempting to skate down into the bowl and back up when he slipped and fell. The board landed a few feet away and Alex fell flat on his back. His head jerked back and hit something hard.

Alex felt tears threatening to escape and he tightly closed his eyes as he colourfully cursed out loud with great volume and expression. The back of his head was throbbing but he didn't attempt to sit up; frustration taking over him and weighing him down.

When he opened his eyes, he saw a boy watching him.

He is standing a little further away, with both his hands stuffed into his hoodie. He's pale and a little tired-looking as if he didn't go out much. Short brown hair graces his head and falls floppily into his eyes and he keeps pushing it back. His nose is sort of hooked, like a parrot's and faintly red as if he has a cold. He regards Alex with soft set, wide eyes, twinkling with amusement.

It isn't the most attractive face but it was hard hitting like a piece of art- the sort of art that one could stare at for hours, catching different colours every time they looked at it and watching them change every hour as the light faded. Then the boy smiles at him, one side of his mouth rising farther than the other. It was a trouble-maker's smile but a trouble maker who would always apologize after pranking you and take you for a treat afterwards if you felt too bad.

"You're doing it wrong." The boy tells him. His voice, not unlike his expression was that of one who was amused beyond doubt. His 'n's sound sort of weird so Alex concludes that he does have a cold. There was nothing arrogant about him but Alex flared up at once. "Oh, am I?"

"Yeah, well," the boy shrugs and shoved his hand into the pocket of his black hoodie. It advertises a band Alex does  not recognize. "For starters, you're not bending. Like, at all."

Alex sits up quickly and brushes off his jeans even though they are clean. He glares at the boy. "You've been watching me, huh? Are you a stalker or something?"

The boy looks even more amused. "Actually, no. My employer told me to kidnap you. I'm just taking notes and all."

Alex snorts and retrieves his skateboard self-consciously. He isn't very keen on skateboarding in the boy's company so he just pops it under his armpit again.

"It's not a surfboard." The boy chides.

"Thank you for opening my eyes." Alex snaps. Just for the heck of it, he climbs out of the bowl and takes a deep breath as he sets his board on the ground. He is aware that the boy is watching him so- even though he isn't religious- prays, Please don't let me screw up. Please.

He falls hard.

The boy doesn't say anything as Alex curses and retrieves his board, his ears burning. He wouldn't admit it then but this little act of kindness was something he had not expected.

"Do you want me to teach you?" The boy asks in a genuine tone.

Alex looks at him, finally getting an up-close view. The boy doesn't look amused anymore but he looks as though he actually cares about what Alex does.

"Sure." He finds himself saying.

The boy takes out his hands from his hoodie to reveal long thin artist's fingers. He extends his hand in an old fashioned friendly greeting. "Jem."

Alex finds himself quite liking this simple gesture. His slips his cold hand into Jem's warm fingers and says, "Alex."

"Can I see your board?" Jem asks.

Alex hesitates for a second before he hands the board to him. He watches Jem examine the drawings and quotes written with black Sharpie with utmost concentration and care as though he know how much the board means to Alex. He looks up to give Alex a look of grudging respect. "That's a really cool board, Alex."

"Thanks." He replies, trying not to sound too eager to have it back.

"You did all by yourself?"

"No it was me and my... friend. From back home."

"Back home? Wait, you just moved here, didn't you? I've never seen you around before." Jem finally hands him back the skateboard.

"Yeah, last week." Alex answers.

"Have you started school?" Jem asks. Alex finds himself surprised by the questions and the genuine interest Jem is showing in Alex. Alex had always thought of himself as a rather uninteresting person. He could stand on a stage under the spotlight and still be invisible. He was a homogeneous person, fading into his surroundings but Jem was talking to him like he stood out, sharp and bright. "Yes. Darwin High. Do you go there too?"

"Oh, no." Jem shakes his head. "I'm home schooled."

"Oh? Must be nice. How come?"

"I don't know. I sort of dropped a while ago- I used to attend Darwin too. It's easier anyway, not much of a bother," Jem answers in a carefully controlled matter-of-fact voice.

"Oh," is all Alex can say.

"Yeah." Jem waves his hand in the air dismissively. "It's cool." He clears his throat. "You wanna start?"

"Sure."

*

Jem turned out to be a professional at skateboarding. He handled Alex's board as if he was doing Russian ballet with a woman, all sharp curves and grace. Alex fell down a few more times but eventually, he managed to stay on the board without falling off. Jem had applauded.

They met up two days later and Jem brought his own board- a simple black well worn out skateboard with which he demonstrated more jaw dropping skateboarding skills and Alex watched him as he used to watch Ronan- in awe and envy. But every once in a while Jem would look up and give Alex a smile or a little grin as if the two were sharing a secret. It made Alex's feeling of wanting to drown in his uselessness disappear.

They met the next day too but they didn't skate. They sat inside the bowl, huddled together in their hoodies, trying to keep warm as they talked.

Jem, Alex found out, was an only child living in a small two bedroom house a few blocks over. His parents owned a shop and Alex made a mental note to visit it and just buy a few things, just for the sake of it. Jem also worked at a local vinyl shop a few blocks away from his parents' shop. It was a dark, dingy place which smelled like dead fish thanks to the meat shop above it. It wasn't a very aesthetically pleasing place but it had a good collection and it was mostly crowded. Alex himself ended up buying four the first time he visited. And Jem said it paid well so he stuck around despite being a vegetarian and wanting to choke on his spit when the smell was particularly strong.

They went through each other's music libraries saying things like, "Oh, I love this band!" or "Dude, do you actually listen to Blink-182?"

"I hate country music." Jem muses.

Alex cocks his head to one side. "It's not bad."

"Dude, it's horrible."

Alex snorts. They are sitting in The Bowl, with their legs crossed and using their bag packs as back rests. Jem's knee is pressed against his and even through his jeans and Jem's; Alex can feel the warmth of his skin. He takes his Ipod back from Jem and fixes him with a judgmental look. "You're hopeless."

"Are you talking to country music?"

Alex laughs. "Country music is not bad!"

"It's bad!"

"Not bad!"

They argue over this topic for almost half an hour, laughing and making stupid jokes which Ronan probably would have thrown up if he heard but he and Jem laughed jovially. Alex hadn't laughed at anything jovially for a long time. He wasn't even sure why he was defending country music. He liked it, but not that much.

They couldn't meet for the next two days because Jem had to mind the shop and Alex felt himself growing restless. He made another friend at school called Ruth. She was nice but she lived almost a mile away.

The next day, he went to Jem's shop.

It was a small departmental store. The heating, according to Jem didn't work half the time but it was cosy place, tucked away into a corner of the street. It had frequent customers but apparently not enough. Alex sat with Jem behind the cashier's register. On purpose, he bought two sodas.

"How long have you had the board?" Jem asks.

Alex was sitting with him at the shop and Jem was billing up a woman's order. She looked impatient and snobbishly rich as though she couldn't waste thirty seconds to buy herself a Gatorade and was doing a favour on humankind by doing so.

"Three-four years?" Alex answers. He takes a bite of the protein bar he bought even though he hates the very taste. "The vandalizing started as soon as Ronan bought it."

"His parents must not have liked that." Jem answers. He hands the change to the woman and mutters, "Have a nice day." She doesn't even reply and leaves quickly.

"His parents didn't care, actually."

Jem looks surprised. He crosses something out in the register and looks up. "Seriously? Brand new board?"

Alex nods.

"Must be nice," Jem says with a hint of coldness in his voice, "To have enough money to afford that."

*

"Bend!" Jem chides.

"I am bending!" Alex insists. The board slips from under him and he stumbles but manages the steady himself. The board rolls away.

Jem retrieves the board, shaking his head. "I told you to bend."

"I was bending!"

"Not enough! Try again." Jem orders.

Alex's skateboarding skills were getting considerably better- something that greatly pleased Ronan. That evening, Alex was using his mom's laptop to Skype with him.

Ronan was reciting a racist joke from another open window to annoy Alex and Alex was telling him to shut up because his mom could walk in any time.

Alex was half Japanese; the slight curve of his eyes betrayed his heritage. One could just think that he had different eyes but they wouldn't infer his heritage unless he told them. When he had told Jem, Jem didn't look surprised.

"Your eyes," he had said.

Alex's maternal grandparents moved from Kyoto to America when his mom was sixteen when Alex's grandfather got a huge promotion. Then he died of a heart attack not even an year after they moved. So Alex's grandmother took up a job as a school teacher and, to everyone's surprise, still managed to collect enough money to afford her daughter's college fees.

Alex turned his attention back to the computer screen. Ronan was very happy when Alex told him of recent events.

"I'm proud of you, son," He said in a parent-like voice. "Take good care of my baby."

"Our baby." Alex said before realising how wrong that sounded and cracking up.

"Same difference." Ronan paused. "How are you holding up?"

"Fine."

"Honest?"

"You sound like my mom."

"That's because I am your mom, Alex. No, seriously."

"I told you, I'm fine."

"Good."

"Yeah."

*

Despite his home-schooling, Jem was exceptional at Chemistry- subject Alex was, most definitely not. Jem was helping him with his homework and they were at the shop. It wasn't a good day for business, Alex overheard Jem's father say. His dad was a nice guy if a little quiet.

All the time that Alex had been there, not one customer had entered. That seemed to agitate Jem a little. Finally, a few teenagers purchase seven packets of barbecue flavored potato crisps. It cheered Jem up a little.

"Chlorine is not 'C', Alex. Carbon is." He says.

Alex corrects his mistake, feeling a little hopeless. He was to have a test next week and if this was the case, he could very well be gearing up to tell his mom that he failed.

"Ugh," he mutters and checks the periodic table again.

"Alex?"

"Huh?"

"Hey, Alex?"

Alex looks up. Jem is smiling at him. His smile reminds Alex of the day he had met him the first time- amused and mischievous.

"It's 'phosphorus' not 'phoscosaurus'."

Alex looks at his work, stares at the page for a few seconds before cursing again. He'd watched Jurassic Park with his mom the night before and it was certainly showing
He cuts 'phoscosaurus' and writes the correct name. He glares at Jem who is still laughing. "Idiot."

"You're the idiot," Jem laughs. "Phoscosaurus."

"Shut up!" Alex says. He looks down at his book and smiles despite of himself.

"What are you gonna do- release your phoscosaurus on me?"

"Oh please." Alex groans as he looks down at his periodic table again, failing to fight back a smile.