"Come on," Tanner urges me as we cross the lobby of the school.

"Leighton!" a girl's voice calls from behind. I turn around and see Audrey coming towards us.

Tanner smirks and looks at me, amused. "Oh, Scarface, ain't that your invitation to the Winter Formal?" he teases, but I don't react.

No way in hell. Audrey seems nice enough, but I'm not into dancing, or balls, or whatever. She and I are on the track and field team, and our communication usually stays within the gym.

"Hey!" she says, glancing cautiously at Tanner. "Can I talk to you for a moment?"

I nod but don't move, so she takes a breath and says, "Coach Williams asked me to find you..."

"I..." I cut her off. "I can't come to practice today. I need to check into the hospital... for one last time," I point at my scars.

Audrey seems lost for a bit. "Yeah... no, about that. You don't have to come anymore. Coach has dismissed you from the team. He asked me to tell you that. So... I did."

Wordlessly, I stare at her, trying to process, but Tanner's hand lands on my shoulder and breaks my train of thought.

"It's about time," he smiles. "Thanks! We gotta go."

Audrey gives me half a smile and turns away, while I stand there, peering after her.

"Come on," Tanner drags me along towards the exit. "I told you to drop out of that stupid shit long time ago."

I feel a prick inside, a small protest. For some reason, I didn't think of it as stupid shit. And I know what I'm talking about. I'm a pro at stupid shit. And... yeah, sometimes I was too lazy to go to practice. My sneakers are falling apart, and I can't afford a new pair, which makes me feel pathetic when I train with my teammates. But... there was something in all this... something like... I don't know. Like I could breathe easier when I ran or jumped.

But... whatever, maybe Tanner is right. I don't need a schedule and a coach to tell me when to run, jump, or climb. I can do it on my own. When I want. And without the stupid competition.

We leave the school grounds and catch a bus to the other end of the district. Here, the homes are even shabbier than in our neighborhood. Most people here live in trailers. We reach a particularly weather-beaten one, paint peeling, with a makeshift ramp leading to the front door. Tanner knocks, and a male voice shouts, "Come in!"

We step inside a cramped room, the air thick with the stale scent of cigarettes. The owner of the voice is laid up on a worn-out couch, his cast leg propped up on a pillow.

"Tanner," he acknowledges him and looks questioningly at me.

"It's my man Leighton, I told you about," Tanner clarifies, and the guy nods shortly, getting straight to the point. "I need you to get a bag for me. It's at the old factory, you know the one."

Smells fishy, as it should.

"I'd take it myself but..." he points to his broken leg. "Tanner said you can climb," he looks at me, but before I can speak, Tanner interjects, "Climb, jump, run - this guy is a full parkour package."

"I thought no one did this shit anymore," snorts the guy. Tanner chuckles too, adding, "But I guess it's good he stuck with it."

"Yeah, just..." the guy turns to me. "The place is falling apart, I've got to tell you. So most ladders, I'd avoid if I were you. The bag is on the third floor, behind the elevator shaft. The shortest route is through the entrance that faces the dump. But I can't say if it's the safest way, so take your pick. When you get to the shaft, go around it. You'll see a wall with loose bricks. Right behind them."

I listen, memorizing the details. "What's in the bag?" I ask.

"Why do you need to know?" the guy bristles. "Do not open it. Just get it here."

Tanner peeks at me, frowning.

"I'm asking because I need to know how heavy it is and if I can drop it down. Not to carry," I explain in the same tone. The guy seems to think about my words and finally replies, "Better carry it."

I still don't like the whole idea. The guy seems to sense it. He shifts uncomfortably. Being pinned down like that must suck. And it's dangerous. Makes you dependent.

"I'll pay a hundred," the guy presses. "Each of you. Just bring it tonight."

"Come on, Leighton," Tanner urges me. "It's getting late. Do you want to impale yourself on a reinforcement bar like a skewer in the dark?" Not waiting for my answer, he gets up and assures the guy, "We'll get it tonight." Then he casts an intense stare at me, "Let's go."

I stand up and head after Tanner to the street. The dusk is falling, and chilly air nips at my cheeks and ears.

The old factory looms before us, a dark monolith in the misty air. Fences surround it, a feeble attempt to ward off trespassers, and warn of its imminent demolition.

"After you," jokes Tanner. I grab the fence, rusty metal biting into my palms. Pulling myself up, I press my feet against the net for balance, and with a swift leap, I'm on the other side. Tanner needs more time - he's heavier, metal cries under his feet. But he manages to get over the fence, and we jog to the building, mud sloshing under our feet.

The entrance facing the dump is blocked with boards and a chain. Tanner yanks it, testing its strength.

"Shit..." he spits. " They gonna tear it down for real it seems."

I take a few steps back and look up. The facade of the structure reminds me of a canvas with peeling paint and broken windows. So much for the modern art.

I assess the side, thinking about the way I can get to the upper window. It's not very helpful that it's getting dark quickly and the chilly moist air spilled around.

"What's the deal, monkey?" Tanner asks. "Are you going?"

I nod, "Give me a boost."

Tanner grimaces. I get it, with all the mud around, I wouldn't dream of holding someone's dirty boot, but I press on, "I need to reach that ledge." I point above his head. Tanner looks around and in a minute he rolls the barrel to the wall. It will do.

Reaching a ledge, I run my fingers along the wall, searching for crevices and grooves. The window is still way up above me. I start my climbing, balancing on the ledge. Once find a crevice, I can put my palm in, I push and with this, I lose the last solid ground I have. My sneakers scrap against the brick wall, using every bump as a foothold.

My fingers find purchase on rusted beams, protruding from the crumbling concrete. The height grows, the ground shrinking beneath me. But that doesn't scare me. Strangely, I stop thinking about the bag, this fishy job, Tanner, pacing below. There's only sensation remaining - my fingers gripping the bricks. My whole body works as a mechanism and a good one. I feel every muscle, and it's like I have full control over everything. My breathing becomes deep and slow. I don't feel rush or pain or cold, only the pleasant tension of my body. When I reach the window at first I am even a little disappointed - that it ended, but then comes the feeling of a small victory.

I stick my head out of the window and look at Tanner. "Find that bag," he says.

I nod, scanning the dim interior. A distant clatter echoes through the desolate space - rats, or something else? I could use a light, but I don't want someone to spot us here, so I move in semi-darkness through the debris, looking for the ladder to the third floor. However, I find only a gap between the two platforms. The ladder lies in pieces on the first floor. The place indeed is falling apart. Without much thought I take a running start and jump over the gap, my hand almost slips, when I try to hold on to the upper platform. Hoisting myself up, I get to the third floor and try to guess where the elevator's shaft might be.

A gaping hole, from which cold air wafts, immediately catches my attention. Almost tripping over a piece of concrete that turns out to be part of the ceiling, I round the elevator shaft and have to switch on the flashlight on my phone to see the brickwork. I check one brick after another until I find the ones that give way under my fingers and pull out a few. The bag rests there, so I work quickly to retrieve it and get out of here. As soon as I sling the bag over my shoulder - it doesn't seem very heavy to me, but it adds to the inconvenience - the hairs on the back of my neck stand up at the sound of Tanner's sharp whistle. It's a sign that someone else is here. I look into the shaft, wondering if I should descend it - maybe it's faster. But it's too dark. So I hurry back the way I came.

I don't care too much about the bag and toss it onto the second-floor platform, jump after it, pick it up, and run to the window. Leaning out of it, I see Tanner pointing to the side. Following his hand, I spot the light from a couple of flashlights a little further away. A knot forms in my stomach. They could be security guards. Or they could be the ones who also want this bag. And who knows who's worse?

I don't have time to think. If they come closer, they'll definitely spot me as I descend the wall. So the first thing I do is throw Tanner a bag. He catches it and immediately runs to the fence. I have an option to wait out until the guards pass, but if they're not guards...

I lean out the window again; Tanner is already at the fence. Okay... here goes nothing.

I hang on the edge of the window, trying to remember the bumps and dents on my way up. But because I'm in a hurry, I misstep here and there. My descent is much sloppier, but no one's watching, so hell with it.

I ignore the dull ache in my palms as I leap from one foothold to the next, the ground rushing to meet me. I land on the barrel with a loud thud, which alone could attract unwanted attention. The barrel falls, loudly announcing my presence to the entire area. The figures with flashlights freeze and then quickly approach, shouting something.

I sprint after Tanner, who's already cleared the fence. "Come on, Leighton!" he urges me on. With a surge of strength, I propel myself up the fence, hands gripping the cold metal. The guards' frustrated shouts fade as we disappear into the shadows of the shabby neighborhood.

The cramped trailer awaits us. The guy with the broken leg peers at us, eyes filled with a mix of anticipation and suspicion. "You got it?"

Instead of answering, Tanner hands him the bag.

Tobias' gaze narrows. "Did you open it?"

"Of course not!" Tanner says confidently.

The guy checks the contents, ensuring that our curious fingers remained unintrusive. "Good." He seems satisfied and zips the bag, placing it near the couch. He rummages in his pocket, pulling out wads of crumpled bills. "A hundred each. As promised."

Tanner takes the money, and we step out into the chilly night.

"Not bad, huh? Easy money," he says as he hands me my share.

"Easy for who?" I ask flatly, pocketing the money.

"Oh, come on!" Tanner scoffs. "You get off on this!"

I don't say anything, so Tanner continues as we move down the street. "I'm off to the spot. You coming?"

"Why not?" I shrug. It's not like I have anything interesting going on at home.