Chapter 11: Youth In Flight, Part 1

The news reported an explosion in a quiet neighbourhood. One officer was injured by a fleeing suspect, four others were killed in the blast. Oddly, the news said it had been compressed air, not explosives. They talked about how much worse it would have been if it had been C4. People were evacuated for most of the day. Sources claimed that the evacuees were given some kind of treatment before being allowed back into their homes.

The only picture that caught Pranthi's eye was a shot of a woman cop with tears running through grey dust on her face. The kind of shot she wished she could take.

The next week a bombing at a mall in Africa took over the news of the explosion, except for brief coverage of the funeral for the fallen. The entire city ground to a halt while the procession moved through the streets. Pranthi had been sent home by then. She stayed away from the funeral. She'd want to take pictures and it didn't feel respectful.

The news magazine Pranthi wanted to sell her pictures to decided not to cover the story. The editors wanted real news, not stories about fake zombies, not even fake zombies who tried to eat their girlfriends. It didn't fit with the image of their publication, they told her.

She spent part of the four grand from the Journal on a telephoto zoom lens. After her recent experience, she liked the idea of having a bigger safety zone. The lens gave her an excuse to go out and shoot pictures of the city. Pranthi loved it, even as it tired her hands and arms quicker. Might have to get a light tripod if she was going to use it a lot. She collected a huge array of squirrel and bird pictures, even took some halfway decent shots of peregrine falcons. Dan never called, so they must have wrapped up whatever they needed to do without her.

The weather got colder as the weeks passed. Pranthi broke out her thermals. The metal in her leg braces made it necessary to dress like she lived in the arctic. Her jeans didn't insulate her legs enough by themselves. The new aches from the cold slowed her down, but she refused to stop until she was forced.

As she walked home from a failed attempt to get closer to the falcons, a poster on a hydro pole caught her eye. Skateboarders were to gather in protest of a new bylaw the next day. Time to try some action shots.

She dragged on her layers of clothing and packed her gear bag. The new lens could stay safely at home. As great as the lens was, it added too much weight to the bag if she wasn't going to use it. When she got on the elevator a kid from the next floor up already occupied it holding a skateboard.

"Going to the demonstration?" Pranthi asked.

The kid flipped her the finger.

"Effin' cripple." He dropped his board as the doors opened and rolled out of the elevator doing a little hop over the gap.

Frank yelled at him from his desk, and the kid flipped Frank a bird too.

He jumped down the steps in front of the building in what would have been a great photo op. But only if Pranthi had been lying on the stairs, or even standing with her camera out to catch the look of disgust on the old woman's face. The kid turned sharply to avoid knocking her down and sped away down the street.

"Punk," Frank said as he opened the door for Pranthi.

"That used to be me," Pranthi said.

"Can't imagine that," Frank said as he tried not to look at her crippled legs.

"Not the skateboard," she said, "the attitude."

Frank shook his head and turned to let the old woman into the building.

Pranthi followed the kid toward the park with the demonstration. The noise beckoned her, but she kept her pace slow. Falling with a couple of thousand dollars in camera equipment didn't appeal to her.

At the park skaters of all ages rode boards, did tricks and worked as hard as they could to upset the mostly older people who held signs suggesting that they do their stuff somewhere else.

She wandered about snapping candids. Skaters jumped into the air as their boards twirled beneath them. Others jumped up to scrape along a concrete wall. She set her camera to take long bursts and let it whir away.

Pranthi took a great series of a group of boarders, one of whom was the rude kid from her apartment, teaching an old man how to skateboard. Kids and old man all laughed hysterically and made it difficult for anyone to stir up real anger over the issue. Even the protesters with the signs cheered when the old guy landed a trick.

Pranthi left when the leaders of the two groups started negotiating access to the park. Resolution of the issues was news, but it made for boring photography.

Pranthi had made it about halfway back to the apartment when something snatched at her camera bag. She grabbed at a signpost to keep from being pulled to the ground by the bag that was strapped tightly to her back. Cold metal bit into her hand.

A riderless skateboard careened into a garbage can while the rude kid from the elevator rolled swearing along the sidewalk. Pranthi let go of the post and walked over to pick up the skateboard. She had to use the board to push herself upright. Heart pounding, she went to the kid who lay on his back still swearing. Pranthi didn't want trouble, and he did live in her building.

"You okay?"

"What do you think?" the kid said when the cursing dried up.

"I could call for an ambulance," she pulled out her phone.

"No!" the kid waved at her. "Mom will kill me if I get brought home by the cops again."

"There are worse things," Pranthi said. She shuffled over to a nearby bench and sat down, still holding the board. The kid made her think about her brother. They'd be about the same age, assuming her brother still lived.