Max-

The early autumn air bites at our faces as Elio and I make our way to the indoor skate park after school. We’re both wearing our school uniforms, the dark blazers and ties contrasting sharply with the colorful graffiti on the walls as we pass by.

“I can’t believe Mrs. Thompson put that question about enthalpy on the test,” Elio says, adjusting his backpack. His curly hair peeks out from under his beanie, and his glasses fog up slightly from the cold.

“Yeah, that was brutal,” I agree, pushing open the door to the skate park. Warm air rushes out to greet us, along with the familiar sounds of wheels on concrete and distant thud of boards landing tricks. “But hey, it’s over now. Time to skate.”

We head inside, dropping our backpacks in a corner and pulling out our boards. The park is busy, but there’s enough space for us to find our rhythm. Elio’s already grinning, the tension from the test melting away as he steps on his board and kicks off. I follow suit, the smooth motion and familiar feeling of the board under my feet relaxes me. 

We weave through the park, dodging other skaters and finding our own little area near the half-pipe. Elio goes first, effortlessly cruising up and down, his movements fluid and precise. I can’t help but watch, impressed as always by how natural he makes it look. 

“Show-off,” I call out, grinning as he lands a perfect trick and skates back to me.

He laughs. “Your turn, Max. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

I roll my eyes playfully but step up to the half-pipe. I drop in, feeling the rush of adrenaline as I pick up speed. The world blurs slightly at the edges, but I’m focused, my mind clear as I pull a few tricks, finishing with a clean landing.

Elio cheers, clapping his hands. “Nice one, You’ve still got it.”

“Thanks,” I say, panting slightly as I skate back over. “Not as smooth as you, though.”

He shrugs, and rolls his eyes. “Maybe, but you’ve got style.”

We spend the next hour skating, challenging each other with new tricks and laughing when we wipe out. Eventually, we take a break, collapsing onto a bench and slipping from our water bottles. Our faces are flushed from exertion.

“Think we passed?” Elio asks, leaning back and looking up at the ceiling.

“I hope so,” I reply, laughing. “But if not, at least we’ve got skateboarding to fall back on.”

He grins, nudging me with his elbow. “Yeah, maybe we’ll go pro and tour the world.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I say, smiling back. “But for now, let’s focus on surviving high school.”

We sit in comfortable silence for a few moments, watching the other skaters. Then we share a look, we pick up our boards and head back to the half-pipe, ready for another round.

The hours slip by unnoticed as we push each other to try new tricks and laugh and tease each other. Mid-trick, Elio glances at his watch and curses under his breath, landing a kickflip before skating over to me.

“Hey,Max, I’ve got to get to work,” he says, panting.

I come to a stop beside him. “Already? Man, time flies when you’re having fun.”

He grins, adjusting his glasses. “Yeah, but I’ll see you later at the arcade, right?”

“Definitely,” I reply, giving him a fist bump. “You know I wouldn’t miss it.” 

Elio laughs, giving me a thumbs-up before picking up his skateboard and backpack and giving me another look and a wave before he steps out the door.

Elio-

Max and I walk together, our steps echoing off the pavement. The air is crisp, the promise of autumn, carrying hints of street vendors’ food and the sound of traffic. As we approach Max’s apartment, I feel a twinge of reluctance. It’s been a great day, and saying goodbye even for a short while feels bittersweet. I stop outside the entrance, turning to face him.

“Thanks for hanging out,Max.” I say, offering him a smile.

Max nods, a grin spreading across his face. “Yeah, it was awesome,Elio. We should do this again soon.”

“Definitely, Maybe next weekend?” 

“Sounds like a plan.” Max replies.

With a fist bump, I watch as Max disappears into the lobby. I take a moment to appreciate the familiar sight of his building before continuing down the street towards my brownstone. My house is nestled among a row of similar styled buildings. The brownstone facade is weathered yet elegant, with steps leading up to a sturdy wooden door that has seen decades of use. I climb the steps and reach for my keys. 

Inside, the house is warm and inviting, filled with the familiar scents of home-cooked meals and the soft glow of the lamps against the polished wooden floors. Family pictures line the walls, capturing moments from years gone by-my parents smiling proudly, Gia making silly faces,Me holding Gia when she was baby,and snapshots of holidays and family gatherings.I hang up my jacket and make my way to the kitchen, where the aroma of Mom’s cooking greets me. She looks up from stirring a pot on the stove, her face lighting up with a smile. 

“Buonasera,Elio,” 

“Buonasera, Mamma,” I reply, kissing her cheek. “How was your day?”

“Busy, but good,” she says, while checking the sauce she is stirring. “And yours?” 

I recount my day me and Max had, from the chemistry test to the afternoon at the arcade. Mom listens attentively, nodding and chuckling at my anecdotes.