Flight AmericaxReader/Earhart Part 1

You love the feeling of that summer breeze in your hair. The exhilaration of speed as you accelerate faster and faster over the sun-baked pavement. Summer vacation has been going fairly well for you so far. After being cooped up in that prison of a high school all year, you flew from the chains like a bird set free. And you are a bird set free. Wild, free, and always on the lookout for a little fun. You'd never stoop so low as to find fun in those raves and "red cup" parties like most teens. You find your fun in the open air, in days filled with possibilities. Today is such a day.

You skate expertly along the walkway in front of the lake. You swerve past mothers with strollers and little old ladies tossing bread crumbs to ducks. A few give you dirty looks, not that you care. Skater girls always get a bad rap for being high-school drop-outs and junkies. You've come to accept this as fact. You roll your eyes. They don't even know me. You spot some cement stairs up ahead and push off harder, wanting to land that perfect flip on the railing. You twist your legs and kick the skateboard, sending you both flying up onto the rail. That was always the best moment, whenever you don't touch the ground anymore. That's wild and free. Your board hits the rail and sparks fly as you grind down it to the bottom. You jump off and keep rolling. You've gotten pretty good at this, you must admit. Nothing makes your heart beat faster than when you land that perfect trick. You speed up a little more, loving the wind roaring in your ears and longing to hear it louder, wilder. You close your eyes for a moment, savoring the freedom that rides the summer breeze. That's probably why you didn't notice a certain young man until it was too late.

You hit something hard and go flying. This is definitely not the kind of flying you like! You hit the pavement hard on your hands and knees, scarping them up so bad you don't even want to think about how much blood is staining the walkway. You roll of into the grass and lie there or a moment, winded. What the heck was that?! Your head throbs, reminding you that dashing out of the garage without a helmet was not the best idea you've ever had. You sit up slowly, not wanting to look at your hands. They sting like a b#%#%! You're not one to use that language normally, but this seems like a fair exception. A young man with ash blonde hair and blue eyes sits across the walkway, rubbing his head. You see a pair of glasses laying on the sidewalk and hand them to him. "You okay, dude? Sorry I hit ya, bro."

"It's cool. I'm tougher than I look." he replies. He takes the glasses and puts them on. Upon seeing you, he instantly tenses up, but shakes his head and gets up. He holds out his hand to you and you accept it, allowing him to pull you to your feet. "What's your name, Skater Girl?"

"(Name). But hey, I respond to Skater Girl everywhere else I go, so this is nothing different. What's you name, Blondie?" you ask.

The man laughs, very boastfully, but it's kinda cute. Whoa, hold up. Did I just think a stranger is... cute? Man, how hard did I hit that pavement? "Alfred. Alfred Jones." He looks back at his hand to find it stained with your blood. "Jeez, you took quite the fall. I'll help you get cleaned up."

"Sure, dude." You're about to follow him when you remember something. "Aw crap! Where's my board?!" You look about frantically. That board was your baby! You would die without it! You find it lying in the grass a few feet away, one of the wheels broken off. You fall to your knees and pick it up gently, like how one would pick up an injured baby animal.

Alfred smiles pitying at you. "I can try to fix it up. If it's just the wheel it shouldn't be too hard." He holds out his hand again and you take it. Should I really be following a stranger? I mean, he could be some creeper for all I know! Then again, I did hit him going twenty miles per hour. Besides, what's life without a little risk?

You follow him a few streets down or so until you get to one of those not-quite-mansion-but-too-big-to-be-a-regular-house. He opens the gate and motions for you to enter. You walk in slowly, feeling like a peasant in a palace. Dang. I bet he's a doctor or something. Maybe he gets money from his parents? He seems way too young to have something this nice. Maybe he's in college and this is a frat house? You follow him down the cobbled walkway and into his yard. Another young man with long-ish brown hair blinks in surprise upon seeing you. He's got the kind of hair that the skater guys always have, but this seems more well-kept. That, and you don't think any of those guys would be caught dead in a tie and sweater vest.

"I didn't expect you to be back so quickly Mr. Amer-"

"Toris!" Alfred says loudly, but not unkindly.

The man stares at Alfred for a moment, but then his confusion melts into a warm smile. "Ah, yes. What bring you back here so soon, Alfred?"

Alfred motions toward you with the hand not holding your's. "I had a minor accident down by the lake. (Name) went down pretty hard. Can you get the first aid kit?" he asks.

Toris nods and dashes into the house/mansion. Okay. Kinda of weird, but whatever.

Alfred smiles at you and gestures you you to sit on a wooden bench under a tree. You comply happily, seeing as your knees are still bleeding from their make-out session with concrete. You clutch you board close to your chest sadly.

"This really sucks. I got this board for my birthday!" you whine. Alfred smirks.

"When's your birthday?" he asks conversationally.

"July 24th." you reply coolly. Alfred gives you the same look as when he put his glasses on earlier. "What?"

"Nothing." he says quickly, looking away and his face turning a shade darker. "Nothing at all."