07. Untouchable

"Grayson!" The usual irritating voice which rang through the house at 5:30 sounded like an alarm on full volume.

However I knew it was only irritating due to the fact it was fucking 5:30 in the morning, the sun wasn't even up and I couldn't be asked for the gym.

And I knew my mom meant well.

"I'm up!" I yelled back before the woman would do her usual routine of bathing into my room and somehow dragging me out of bed despite her being almost half the size of me.

I also knew that Luke would be waiting if I was to run late and he is grumpy enough in the mornings anyways, without being left outside his house waiting for me to pick him up.

We did our usual routine, the one we did most mornings so we was made sharp for training, me and Luke had dreams, we set goals, did the training, out in the word, we would go big, get in the NHL.

So we did the diets, the training, the workouts, the games and we met every goal to get the big one, to get spotted by scouts.

As they say, go big or go home.

The streets smelled like gasoline and regret, but to me, they smelled like freedom. Every cracked sidewalk, every graffiti-smeared wall, every shattered window told a story—and I was the one writing them.

Back then, they didn't call me Calliope. They called me "Allie," short for not Callie or Cal just Allie, because that's where you'd fine me—down some alley, roaming the city. I walked those streets like I owned them, cigarette dangling from my lips, smoke curling around my face like a crown.

I was untouchable.

I wasn't the girl who got dragged into bad crowds. I was the bad crowd. At fifteen, I'd already built a reputation that made grown men double-check their locks at night. Not because I was violent—I wasn't stupid enough to get my hands dirty—but because people followed me, and where I went, trouble followed too.

My crew was small but loyal: Theo, with his knuckles tattooed and a smile that could charm a nun; Tess, sharp-tongued and quick with a blade; and Jonah, who could hotwire a car in less time than it took to light a match. We weren't a gang in the traditional sense—no colors, no codes—but we owned our block, and everyone knew it.

I'd stand on the corner of 9th and Main, the city's unofficial black hole of ambition, and kids would gather. They'd hang on my words, mimic my swagger, that I didn't realise I owned, they'd beg for a piece of whatever thrill I was chasing that week. Cigarettes, stolen booze, a joyride in a car that wasn't mine—I wasn't a role model. I was their excuse.

The flick of my lighter broke the silence on 9th and Main, the flame casting shadows on the cracked walls of the bodega behind me. I held the cigarette to my lips and leaned back against the graffiti-covered brick, watching the city hum around me like a broken engine. This was my throne. These streets? My kingdom.

"Yo, Allie!" Theo's voice echoed down the block. I turned to see him jogging toward me, his leather jacket half-zipped, a stolen chain glinting under the streetlights. He always had that reckless grin on his face, the kind that made you wonder if he was about to throw a punch or crack a joke.

"What took you so long?" I asked, blowing smoke into the cold night air.

"Ran into Grant," he said, pulling a pack of smokes from his pocket. "Tried to give me one of his you're better than this speeches again."

I snorted. "Yeah? Did you tell him we're the best this city's got?"

"You know it," Theo said, lighting up.

Speaking of Officer Grant, the man, the myth, the legend, and also the cop who could never find good enough evidence to convict us off something, we'd get our warning, community service occasionally but never charged seriously.

And Grant believed we could change, as if we could get any better in this crap part of town.

Tess appeared next, her dirty blonde hair pulled back in a messy bun, her jacket too big for her wiry frame. She was carrying a six-pack under one arm and a crowbar in the other. "Got the goods," she said, smirking as she handed the beer over.

"You're late," I said.

"Had to make a pit stop," she replied, jerking her chin toward the shattered lock on the liquor store down the street. "It's not like I was gonna pay for this."

Jonah was the last to arrive, sliding out of the shadows like a ghost. He didn't say much—he never did—but when he handed me a set of car keys, I knew he'd been busy.

"Let me guess," I said, holding up the keys. "Black Honda, four doors, parked three blocks over?"

Jonah nodded, his lips twitching into the faintest smile.

"Perfect," I said. "Let's ride."

We piled into the car, the leather seats cool against our skin, the radio blasting some old rock station. Jonah drove, his hands steady on the wheel, while Theo stuck his head out the window, whooping like a lunatic. Tess cracked open a beer and handed it to me, her sharp laugh cutting through the music.

We didn't have a destination. We never did. The city was our playground, and the rules didn't apply to us.

By the time we parked the car in some random lot, it was past midnight, and the air was heavy with the smell of rain. We sat on the hood, passing a joint back and forth, the world blurring around us.

"You ever think about getting out of here?" Tess asked, her voice softer than usual.

"Out of the city?" Theo scoffed. "What's out there that we can't get here?"

"Not getting caught every other week, for starters," she muttered.

"Speak for yourself," I said, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "I like it here. This place keeps us sharp."

But even as I said it, a part of me wondered if she was right.

The memories of the city felt raw, like they happened yesterday, and now they where gone, when I stayed with my aunt on the rich side of town, spoke to as Calliope only not Callie, or Cal or Allie, it was so odd and formal, now I'm hear in Lakehurst as Callie/Cal it's so new again...

It's three different versions of me, the rich snobby Calliope staying with her rich aunt and her cousins, the broke girl who ran the streets called Allie, and now Callie, the figure skater that moved in with the father she never new, who was an ex-city girl who everyone presumed was a rich brat.

So receiving a text at 6:00 am from Tess altered something in me, I couldn't even describe, maybe I was homesick? Who knew...

Tess: Wanna meet us soon Allie? x

She text on the group chat, I was confused of course, I was five hours away so naturally I questioned her, knowing there was obviously a plan.

How? I'm hours away?

(Theo typing..💬)

Waiting for the text to come through I started getting ready for school, probably leaving them on delivered as I wrestled with my tie once again, and gave up on it, again.

Theo: We have a day off school, planing on a road trip down to you, Jonah will get us a car, Tess will get the goods.. and we should get there at 3:00 when your school ends if we leave at a decent time, we can drive until we find an empty lot for old times sake.

The overly long text arrived, this guy doesn't understand how to send a short and snappy text.

Kk, I'll see you at 3:00.

Jonah: I'll make sure to get a good car.

I smiled despite myself. Of course he would. Jonah didn't believe in half-assing anything. But as I stared at my reflection in the mirror—school uniform, messy ponytail, tie hanging undone around my neck—I felt a twinge of worry.

There was just one small issue: telling my dad.

I could already hear the lecture. "You just moved here, Calliope. You need to focus on adjusting, not running off with old friends." But I'd figure it out. A "study session" lie or something. My father didn't know me well enough yet to see through it.

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A/N: CHAPTER 7 DONE!!!

Words: 1460

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