From playgroup to graduation, the group of teenagers were more amazing than we could ever have dreamed to ask they'd be.
The group of teenagers were the pride of our community, the best of us, and you could see it in the way they held themselves with esteem.
Soles so light upon the concrete, the group of teenagers passed as naturally as a summer breeze.
The group of teenagers, in their bright street fashion, were the blossom of the neighbourhood.
The group of teenagers spoke the language of dance and music. Their conversation brought life to the streets as much as spring does after winter time.
The group of teenagers exuded energy, as if they were the perfect transformers of joy to movement.
Jasmine swore loudly as her shopping bags split under the weight of the groceries, tins of peas and ham sliding into the gutter and bouncing down the stairs to the basement entries of the houses. From nowhere came a group of teens in black hoodies picking it all up. She burst into tears. With the food gone she'd have nothing and neither would Lily. The first one with full arms staggered her way - "Money," she thought, "he wants money."
"M'am, I got what I could. I don't have a bag tho." He stopped, dark skin glowing under the street lights, "Had a bad day?" By now the others had stacked the food around her feet.
Jasmine spluttered "Thanks" and they left, swinging around the posts and the tallest one running right over a few cars as if they were playground toys.
Even given just a script of their conversation, with no context or voices, you would know they were boys. The task directed conversation was interrupted only by jokes, often at the expense of one of their friends. Yet from the dialogue that followed it was clear that no offence had been taken, quite the contrary. They enjoyed the banter, the witty and not-so-witty put-downs. They teased and jibbed one moment and discussed team strategy the next, taking one another seriously and giving well thought responses. But the sensible talk could never last too long, like it was scheduled by an egg timer. Soon the hilarity would start all over again. Were they in class it would be enough to drive any teacher crazy, but in Edward's Dad's garage they were their own bosses. There was no teacher, just a bunch of teenagers who brought the best out of each other.
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