A 17-year-old young man set foot in Manhattan for the first time in his life. The 5-foot-10-inch tall young man has a well-built body and a masculine appearance. But what is most attractive about him is his two light green eyes. He looked up the address on his mobile phone and arrived at an alley. The alley was quite quiet and the city lights barely reached there. He entered the alley with a bag on his back and a trolley bag in his left hand.
Entering the alley, he went to the house number three on the right and knocked on its door and said, "Uncle, I'm here."
A man came from inside and opened the door. The light inside the house dispelled the darkness of the alley. Grabbing the boy's shoulder and bringing him inside, he said joyfully, "So, you are Yohan. Finally, we meet face-to-face today. Do you know that your father and I were very close friends?"
Yohan replied with a light smile, "Yes, I've heard a lot about you from my father."
The man laughed. "I'm sure you have. Anyway, let me show you your room."
The man led him to the first floor. Along one side of the corridor, there were four rooms in a row. Showing Yohan the very last one, he said, "Take a look. See if it's to your liking."
Scanning the entire room, Yohan remarked, "Not bad. It's no less than a hotel."
The man went downstairs with a laugh. Yohan stepped into the room with his luggage. The man was actually the owner of the house and Yohan's father's old friend, Jonathan James. Yohan had come to this city to enroll in his second year of high school, and his father had sent him to stay at his friend's place.
Within half an hour, he settled into his room and collapsed onto the bed. As time passed, boredom began to creep in. To escape the dullness, he grabbed his phone and shot a message to someone: "What's up?" A moment later, he followed up with, "How are they doing?"
There was no response. Out of frustration, Yohan dialed the number, but the call went unanswered. "What a dull place," he muttered to himself.
He pulled a lighter from the front pocket of the bag hanging on the wall. He reached into the same compartment, searching for something, but found nothing. Getting up from the bed, he muttered, "Guess I'll have to go out and get some cigarettes now."
Dressed in something light, he headed out. He wore a grey T-shirt with a buttoned neckline, paired with blue joggers and a pair of sliders.
But he saw Mr. James coming out of the room next door. Seeing Yohan, he asked, "Are you heading out somewhere?"
Yohan rubbed his forehead with one hand, smoothing out his furrowed brows, and replied, "Yeah, I'm heading out for a bit."
With a smile, Mr. James suggested, "Why are you going by yourself? Take my child along. The two of you can explore the city nearby."
Yohan's insides were restless for a smoke. Forcing a fake smile, he said, "No, Uncle, I won't be out for long. I'm just heading to the shop to pick up a few small things."
With that, they both headed downstairs. Yohan then asked Mr. James, "Where are you headed?"
He replied, "Oh, my room is right here downstairs."
Yohan realized that the room upstairs probably belonged to his son. Soon, Mr. James headed into his own room, and Yohan stepped outside.
New York's grandeur might be dazzling to others, but not to Yohan. Detroit, back home, was no less high-tech or flashy. It wasn't just the novelty of the place that kept Yohan from getting bored.
A few minutes later, he spotted a shop at the end of the sidewalk corner—a convenience store. Generally, they don't sell tobacco or alcohol to minors. But that didn't stop Yohan; he walked right in.
There was a young man behind the counter. Yohan walked up and asked, "Can I get some cigarettes here?"
The guy at the counter scanned Yohan from head to toe. Then, folding his arms, he said, "You don't look like a minor. But still, how old are you?"
Yohan replied quite nonchalantly, "I'm seventeen."
Grabbing a packet from the back shelf, the guy remarked, "Bold of you to admit you're under eighteen. Anyone else would've probably thrown you out. But I used to be just like you, pulling stunts and lying about my age."
Taking the pack and pulling out his wallet, Yohan asked, "How much?"
With a mocking glint in his eyes, the guy replied, "Fourteen dollars."
"Fourteen bucks?" Yohan said, stunned. "Man, we get these for ten dollars back in Michigan!"
With a chuckle, the guy replied, "We're in Manhattan, New York, not Detroit, Michigan. The taxes on these things are sky-high here."
Having no other choice, Yohan took the pack. But before heading out, he asked, "Is there a place around here where I can smoke in peace?"
Tucking Yohan's fourteen dollars into the drawer, the guy said, "Turn at the next corner, and after a five-minute walk, you'll find a park on the left side of the road. No one goes there at night. You can smoke there if you want."
Reaching the park, Yohan saw that the place was quite dark. Only a single lamppost inside flickered with a yellow glow. He sat down on a bench and lit his cigarette.
Just as his cigarette was about to burn out, five boys surrounded him. Yohan looked at them while taking a slow drag of smoke. Then, completely unfazed, he turned his gaze away without uttering a single word.
One of the guys looked at him and smirked, "This kid looks new, doesn't he?"
A guy standing next to him chimed in, "Let's show him who we are."