Punk Street

by Freethinker037

Punk'd Part 1: Leap of faith

Author's Note:

So here we go! This is it!
The very first chapter of Punk St. has officially been posted. Here's to high hopes that you all like it.

and if you do, then toss me a thumbs up. it's right at the top, next to the ratings meter. The thumbs up. Just click it....please.

Now! Good or bad, criticism is welcomed. This story can only get better if you tell me what's wrong so I can fix it.

Enjoy the chapter everyone!

It was a cool and misty pre-dawn on interstate 73 leading west out of Cloudsdale. The sun was still 15 minutes away as silence reigned over the deserted road, broken only by the gentle rumble of an old car, a ‘71 Buick, parked on the side with its headlights illuminating the road sign indicating the city limits. Inside, sat a young man of 17 years. With the heater on, and the radio playing, he contemplated the sign that stood before his car.

Contemplation maybe too nice a word. Procrastination fits the current scenario much more nicely, as this young man has never really ventured beyond the inner city, let alone past the city limits. He is, understandably, a little nervous.

Realizing the futility of reading the sign over and over, the young man lets out a tired sigh as he leans forward and drops his head on the steering wheel, banging it once in frustration. He is about to leave the only home he knew to face the world and face it alone. The very thought of driving past that simple sign makes him very tired.

Then again, it might just be the fact that he woke up at 5AM.

Peeking over the dashboard again, he glared at the sign, with the inanimate, wooden display returning it in kind.

Groaning, he dropped his head back on the wheel, the car yelping in surprise as he hit the horn. He then proceeded to bang his head again and again and again, the old Buick honking with each hit.

Sitting back up with another sigh, he flipped down the sun visor and stared at the picture taped to the inside. It was a picture of him and his sisters. Though not blood related, they were close, like siblings. Closer than that, even. They fought for one another and protected each other. That’s how they met and that’s how they stayed.

They were orphans, living in the Our Lady of Hope Orphanage in the Thunderhill district of Cloudsdale. They were inseparable until two years ago, when he made them move to Canterlot. Thunderhill wasn’t exactly teaming with opportunities (Not the legal kind, at least), so in order to give his sisters a better life, he gathered all his savings, and shipped his family to what he hoped was a brighter future.

The memory played back in his head.

---

It was Saturday morning as three siblings stood inside West Bay Train Station. They were arguing as the youngest clearly looked upset.

“Why can’t you come?” Whined his 13-year-old sister, eyes pleading him to come with them.

“I can’t afford it. I literally put everything I got to get you two tickets to Canterlot.” He calmly explained the situation to her as they stood on the train platform that lead to the capitol city.

He neglected to tell them that he couldn’t come until they arrived 20 minutes ago.

“What about rule #2? What happened to ‘Punk St. always sticks together’, huh?” Retorted the youngest sibling. She had Lavender eyes and short, magenta hair. Her current outfit consisted of an orange hoodie and cargo shorts.

“Yeah. Why do we need to move anyway? We’re surviving just fine, aren’t we?” Added the older of the two sisters. Her hair contained every color under the rainbow and her magenta eyes matched her younger surrogate sister’s hair. She also wore a sky blue windbreaker and skinny jeans.

“That’s just it, Rainbow! All we’re doing is surviving! But surviving is not living; Not really. Not in Thunderhill. Sure, we get cushy beds and three squares a day, but for how long? We can only stay at the orphanage until we’re eighteen, then they boot us out on the street. I don’t have to tell you that Thunderhill doesn’t have the best reputation in Cloudsdale. Canterlot is in better shape than Cloudsdale by a long shot. Better homes, better schools, better people…. better way of life. We got our whole lives ahead of us and Canterlot can help us be who we can be. That’s why you two are going and that’s why I have to break rule #2 for now.”

The older sister, Rainbow Dash, gazed down to contemplate her elder brother’s words. She couldn’t deny it. With the state that Thunderhill is in now, their only options were either crime, or homelessness. Both are crap options that’ll lead to a dirt nap. She reluctantly agreed with her brother.

“…. So what do we do when we get there?”

“You head to the authorities, and they’ll get you into the system. They’ll put you two in another orphanage, and get you into a school. After that, try to find a job, something part-time. If things don’t go to plan, then use the rest of the cash I gave you to set yourselves up in a hotel or something. Though I doubt things will go wrong, ‘cause you’re still minors. By law, they have to help you.” Her brother replied in a sure and confident tone.

“Are we ever gonna see you again?” Came the sad voice of the little plum-haired girl.

Her brother knelt down to her level before answering, “Of course you will, Scootaloo. I’ll catch up with you two as soon as I can. I’d never leave you hanging, you know that.”

That brought a small smile onto Scootaloo’s face. She was rewarded with a confident grin, curtesy of her Brother.

“…… Pure Spirit.” This caught both their attention. They looked up to see Rainbow Dash looking away with a serious expression on her face. Seeing this Pure Spirit stood back up and faced his younger sister.

“Rainbow Dash? You okay?” He asked gently. She’s clearly upset about the situation. At his beckoning she faces him with a look of determination.

“You make sure… no matter what happens, you make sure you catch up to us. You make sure that our family’s brought back together. You understand me?”

“… Understood”

“Promise me!”

“I promise. I’ll find you, and I’ll bring our family back together again.”

With that, Rainbow Dash embraced her brother in a tight, affectionate hug. Pure Spirit returned it in kind and pulled Scootaloo in to make it a group hug. After a few moments, they broke the embrace, a sad smile on their faces.

“Alright. You got your papers and ID?” Pure Spirit asked his two younger sisters. Scootaloo nodded while Rainbow Dash answered.

“They’re tucked in our packs, and the tickets are in my pocket. We’re as ready as we’ll ever be.”

“Good. Stay safe, stay close, watch each other’s backs, and remember, when in Doubt, remember rule #3…” He raised his fist and the girls met his with their own as all three chorused the third and final rule of Punk St. with big and genuine smiles on their faces.

“…STAY AWESOME!!!”

---

That was two years ago. Since then, Pure Spirit had been working hard trying to earn the money to get him to Canterlot, and studying hard trying to get the grades he needs to get into a good school there.

Math was not his subject.

Pure Spirit smiled before flipping the visor back up, hiding the photo with it.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to strengthen his resolve. This was it. He was finally gonna begin his journey to reunite with his sisters, the only family he ever had. He was gonna do it.

The sign just kept on mocking him. Stupid sign.

He let out the breath in an agitated sigh. That sign was really starting to get on his nerves. Something about that sign was not letting him leave. Pure Spirit would have taken the train, but he couldn’t leave his trusty Buick, could he? He spent good money to get his Riviera. Heck, he can still remember the day he picked it up at the police auctions. It was him Vs. some douche bag in heated battle.

---

“$200!” Yelled a fat guy with oiled back hair and a tropical shirt.

“$215!” Yelled back Pure Spirit.

“$240!”

“$275!”

“$300!”

“$350!”

“$450!”

“$497!”

“$513!”

“$561!”

“$572 and my broken watch!”

“$597 and a can of coke!”

“$602 and I’ll wash the cars!”

“$615 and I’ll clean your house!”

“Back off, kid!”

“In your dreams, buddy!”

---

That was an epic day for Pure Spirit. They kept at each other’s throats until they got to $750, then they duked it out in competitive Ro-sham-boh, first to five. They were in sudden death for ten minutes before Pure Spirit lucked out and won the car.

Truly, a good day.

He turned his attention from the annoying sign to appreciate his prize. It had some rough edges here and there but it was complete and stout. A black dashboard and carpet with off-white seats and headliner made up the interior. On the exterior, It had an old white paintjob, and a bullet hole in the passenger side quarter-panel.

All things considered, it was cleaner than most other cars the cops were selling.

That was a year ago, after he got his driver’s license. Pure Spirit was working part-time as a bus-boy at a bar & grill. He was chatting with the owner/bartender when the police auctions came up. One day, Pure Spirit checked it out and the rest was history.

The grill owner was nice enough to let him park it behind his establishment. It was the only spot in Thunderhill that was safe for the old Buick.

Pure Spirit shook the nostalgia out of his head. Enough was enough, and his procrastination had to come to an end. He can only blame the sign for so long. Sooner or later he has to admit to himself that the sign can easily be defeated by driving around it, or through it as a drunk once told him.

Pure Spirit smiled. Victory was at hand! But then he was stricken with an idea. He had grown to like blaming the sign for his misfortune…but no. He shouldn’t do that. He shook the idea out of his head as he shifted in to drive and pulled around the sign and back onto the road.

He wasn’t gonna take the sign with him. He’s a responsible, young man and he will do no such thing…

…

…

…

…his snow white ass, he won’t!

Not less than thirty seconds and the Buick comes barreling backwards right through the wooden legs of the dreaded City Limits Sign, before Pure Spirit jumps out and grabs the rope that came with the Riviera out of the trunk.

Five minutes later, and the sign was hogtied and secured tightly to the roof of Pure Spirit’s beloved Buick. Now he can hit the road with no worries as now he has something to blame and make him feel better.

That aside, Pure Spirit can’t help but think about his sisters, as well as his choice to send them away to Canterlot. He knows that Canterlot is better than Thunderhill. That’s a givin’. What’s eating him is if they’re okay; Did they find a place to stay? Are they going to school? Are the locals treating them right?

Are they finally making a life for themselves?

Among all these questions, two stood out like giants at a midget party.

Had they changed? And if they did, then how much?

It may not sound like it, but two years is a long time, and a lot can happen to a person in that time, especially if said person was an underage teenager. That’s what’s really been worrying Pure Spirit. Are his sisters still ‘his sisters’?

Well, there’s nothing he can do about it now. What’s done is done. All he can do is to gun it west up I-73 to Canterlot to reap what he had sowed…

…and the sign on the roof will be there to take the brunt of it.

He’s starting to like that sign.