Powerslide (3 page)

“Whatever,” I said. “Sure.”

“We'll start tomorrow at the skate park over at my end of town. I'll even give you the half-pipe today. You're up one nothing,” Goat said. He clapped his hands together and turned back to Jack. “Listen, I noticed the board you had today, and, well, it kinda sucks. Just to show you I'm a decent guy, I brought you this one.” He handed a skateboard over to Jack. “It's a little used, but that makes them better.”

“Thanks, man,” Jack said.

“No problem,” Goat said and stepped away from us. “I'll be in touch.”

McNaughton leaned forward. “I know you'll make the right decision, Teen Beat.” Then, for no other reason than that McNaughton is an asshat, he pushed Jack over a log. Jack toppled backward and fell into Tyler Allen. Now, McNaughton may be big and mean, but he's not unmatched in town.

Tyler cocked his head back and said, “What the hell, McNaughton?” “My bad,” McNaughton said.

“What did you do that for?” I asked.

McNaughton shrugged. “A mistake, that's all. My bad.”

Tyler stepped over the log and shoved McNaughton. “Oops,” Tyler said. “My mistake. Didn't mean to shove you.”

McNaughton shoved him back, and then all hell broke loose. Tyler put his head down, as if he was in the middle of a football game, and tackled McNaughton to the ground. A moment later, two of McNaughton's friends started shoving a couple of Tyler's friends. Jack picked himself up off the sand and ran swinging into the mess of people.

I leaped off the log, pulling Sara with me. People scattered in the jumpy way they do when a fight breaks out. Everyone moved far enough away to not be involved, but not so far they couldn't still watch. I was about to drag Jack out of there, figuring he was partially my responsibility, when a series of bright flashes blinded me.

“What is that light?” Sara said, covering her eyes.

I reached in and grabbed Jack's shoulder. “Come on,” I said.

Jack stumbled out of the crowd, and the camera flashes followed him. He swung out at the light, and then he backed away.

I was about to leave him behind when McNaughton tossed Tyler toward us. Jack half caught him and shoved him away. The beach filled with flashlight beams. Everyone started running and yelling, “Cops! Cops!”

“Come on,” I said again, grabbing Jack's shirt and pulling him up the bank toward a cluster of trees. We had made it out of the glow of the bonfire when a rush of people came toward us, followed by half a dozen police officers waving flashlights and batons.

“This way,” I yelled. I leaped over a log and landed in a marshy area along the edge of the woods. Sara and Jack followed. One cop slowed down as he passed where we had ducked into the trees. But I guess he decided there were already enough kids on the beach to chase after.

I pressed my back against a tree and peered out at the scene on the beach. Sara had fallen into me. I could feel her struggling to catch her breath.

Jack was bent over, heaving in and out, with his hands on knees. “What is that guy's problem?” he said.

“McNaughton or Goat?” I asked.

“The big guy. Does he always shove people around?” Jack asked.

“Yes,” I said. Jack looked at me, and I looked away. I was pissed he had put us in this situation and pissed he had gone along with Goat's contest.

“We should get out of here,” Jack said. “That paparazzi guy snapped a million pictures. The last thing I need is to get busted and have photos of me being cuffed and dumped in a cruiser.” He hefted his new skateboard under his arm.

“So that's what all those flashes were—a camera?” Sara said. “How did he know you were here?”

“They find out.” He looked around the wooded area. “How do we get out of here? My shoes are getting ruined in this mud.”

I pointed to a path through the woods. “We can get to the road that way, then double back to my car.”

Jack started walking without another word.

“Real piece of work, isn't he?” Sara said quietly.

I looked ahead at Jack, and I had to agree with her.

chapter five

The next day it seemed as if the whole town was at the skate park. Normally there would be fifteen or twenty kids taking turns hitting the rails or messing around in the bowls. But today there had to be fifty or sixty people in attendance, many without skateboards.

“Wow, lots of people here today,” Sara said as I pulled into the parking lot. This park was on the other end of town from where we lived, and most of the people who rode here went to a different high school.

Goat was leaning against Jack's late-model Lexus. He had chopped his dreads off and was sporting the same kind of floppy hairdo Jack had. He looked strange. His face was rounder than I had thought, and his eyes seemed smaller. He held up his wrist and tapped his watch. “Bit late, Head Case,” he said, so everyone could hear.

Jack popped out of his car and shut the door. His hair was spiked up in a faux hawk, and he had those giant sunglasses on again. I don't know if he thought he was getting into the skater culture or what. But he looked ridiculous. “Hey, Casey,” he said when Sara and I walked up to his car.

“Hey,” I said.

Goat dropped his board and started popping it up and down with his foot. “We going to get this going or what?”

“Someone trick you into going to a barbershop?” Sara said. “What did they do, promise you candy?”

“Ha ha,” Goat said. “This girl is a riot.” He waved her away and turned to me. “Let's flip to see who goes first.” Goat pulled out a coin, and I glanced at Jack.

“That all right with you?” I said.

Jack shrugged and looked away. “Sure.”

Goat flipped the coin. I called heads, and it landed tails.

“All right,” Goat said. “My choice. How about you go first, Head Case. That way I'll know how much effort I should bother putting into this.”

“Hopefully your magical skateboarding skills weren't stored in your dreads,” Sara said, but Goat ignored her.

“I say we do two-minute runs. Best run wins,” Goat said. “Sound good, Jack?” Jack nodded and pushed himself off the side of the car. “So, you watch each of us and then say who you think does better.”

“Cool,” Jack said. He pointed to a wall in the middle of the park. “I'll sit up there.”

The park consisted of two concrete bowls, a series of launch pads, a dozen different rails and a staircase. It was a decent park, even though there were cracks in the concrete and gullies where water pooled after it rained.

Two minutes is a long time in a competition. You have to use it right—knowing, of course, a great trick can be zeroed out by a big bail. But this wasn't a competition in the true sense. There was no scoring at the end of a run. No best two out of three. Just one run and then Jack's decision.

I scanned the park, trying to figure out a good line. This is the mental part of the competition. You have to believe in yourself. Believe in your abilities. I knew, for instance, I could pull a number of tricks into and out of the bowls. I could even use the bowls as a half-pipe and nail my half-pipe tricks without any problems. But that wasn't what this was about. This was supposed to be a street competition, and though Jack didn't know much about skateboarding, he had no doubt watched enough videos to tell the difference between pipe tricks and street tricks. Half-pipe tricks are clean, full of rotations and grabs. Whereas street tricks are something else entirely. When you do street tricks, you have to hit things hard, force your will upon the obstacles. It is almost a different sport.

“Come on, Head Case, you have two minutes once you start,” Goat said. “That doesn't mean you have all day to get going.”

I walked across the park to the bowl thinking, Try to feel the flow, try to feel the flow. I looked around at the crowd, zeroed in on the course and forgot anyone else was there.

I considered starting with a backside 360° off the far wall, followed by a kick flip on this side, back into the bowl and transfer with a 540° melon into the other bowl. I visualized the entire run. I would have to stop a few times to get to other sections of the park, but that was part of a street competition.

“Whenever you're ready, Head Case,” Goat yelled. He had taken up a spot beside Jack on the wall.

I didn't bother to reply. I pushed down hard on the front of my board and dropped into the bowl. I managed to pull a clean backside 360° off the lip. Then I did a kick flip on the other side, swooped back into the bowl and launched over the transition into the other bowl.

Transitioning from one bowl to another isn't that difficult, but it looks cool. Especially if you get a lot of air, which I did. I landed with the slightest wobble, straightened myself and did a truck grind around the edge of the bowl. The park filled with applause. I dropped back in and decided it was time to get out of the bowls before it looked as if I was treating the park as a half-pipe.

I exited the bowl with a giant airwalk, popped off my board and ran up the stairs. I glanced at Goat. He raised his hand and rocked it back and forth in a so-so gesture. At the top of the stairs there was an angled drop-in alongside another set of stairs with a handrail. I pushed hard toward the handrail, ollied at just the right moment and caught the rail about halfway down, sliding along it and landing backward. I spun around and ollied onto a box, kick-flipped off and rolled up a slight incline on the other side.

The crowd was really getting into it. I was feeling the flow now. Everything seemed to be working perfectly. I took my time climbing back up the stairs. I had hit the rail so well that I wanted to try something else on it, maybe a kick flip to tail slide. The problem was, when I reached the top of the stairs, I couldn't decide what would be the most impressive. I dropped my board and pushed toward the stairs. I ollied high enough to reach the rail and tried to kick-flip, but the board caught on the rail and spun away from me. My left foot slid out as I tried to stay upright. There was nothing to hold on to and nowhere to go but down. I crashed onto the stairs, banging my shoulder and shin as I went down. The crowd gasped. A stabbing pain shot up my leg, and everything went black.

chapter six

I shook my head, and the skate park came back into focus. I tried to stand up, but the pain piercing through my shin was so severe, I wasn't able to put any weight on my leg.

“You all right?” Jack yelled.

I raised an arm, and people clapped. I finally stood, favoring my left leg, and retrieved my board. My vision wavered, and I thought I might puke. I dropped my board and pushed toward a little triangle ramp. I tried a 180° ollie. My shin felt as if it would snap in two when I landed, so I stepped off my board, popped it into my hand and raised my other arm to the crowd.

“You still have forty-five seconds,” Goat yelled.

“I'm good,” I said.

Goat said something to Jack. I couldn't tell whether Jack replied, but I didn't think it mattered. I had bailed big-time. My shin felt as if it was bleeding through my cargo pants, and my shoulder was going to be seriously bruised. As much as I would have loved to keep skating, it wasn't going to happen.

Goat sat on top of the wall, holding his watch in front of him, his new floppy haircut flipping in the breeze. He waited for the full forty-five seconds to pass before he began clapping.

“Time's up,” he said as he hopped down from the wall. He walked over to me, wrapped an arm across my shoulders and squeezed. “Nice run, Head Case.” He slapped me on the back and dropped his board. “Just going to get set up here, Jack.”

Jack nodded. I considered sitting with him on the wall, but I resented his involvement in this. His agent had contacted me—
me
—to train him and be his stunt double. Whether I had a signed contract or not shouldn't have mattered. I didn't know if Jack was going along with Goat's plan just for the entertainment or not. But there was nothing I could do about it. I went and stood beside Sara.

“You okay?” she asked.

I resisted the urge to lift my pant leg and look at my shin. “Yeah,” I said.

Goat was still on the course, rubbing his chin and looking around as if he had never been there before. The park was right behind his house. He spent more time here than anywhere else. Though Jack wouldn't know this.

Goat decided to start with the handrail. He pulled a perfect kick flip to nose slide on the rail. He followed this with a pop shove-it onto the block and a kick flip off. Everything he did was smooth and fluid and beautiful. He circled around the bowls, dropped in and did a few flip tricks and grinds before running back up the stairs and landing a perfect rail slide. It wasn't two minutes' worth of tricks, but it didn't matter. He had done everything perfectly. And, he hadn't fallen.

He rode over to the wall and looked up at Jack. “What do you say?” he yelled.

Jack slid his sunglasses up on his head and jumped off the wall. I walked over, already certain what the verdict would be.

“I only know so much about skateboarding,” Jack said. “Like, from videos and stuff. But you were both really good. I mean, I'd be lucky to have either of you training me. Casey, how you went between the two bowls was wicked. And Goat, the grinds and, what do you call them, flip tricks?”

“Yeah, flip tricks,” Goat said. “Those are the technical ones.”

“Those were amazing,” said Jack. “So in the end, I guess I have to give this one to you, Goat.” There was a commotion behind us in the crowd, but Jack didn't seem to notice. “It's because you fell, Casey. I mean, that's pretty much all it comes down to.”

“Sure,” I said, looking over at the crowd.

“But it's not the end, right?” Jack said. “We're going to—”

Two police officers appeared behind us, and a kid I didn't recognize pointed at Jack.