Powerslide (4 page)

“Jack Coagen?” one of the officers said.

Jack turned around. “Yeah?”

“We'd like you to come with us,” said the officer. “We have a few questions about an incident last night.”

“What?” Jack said, slipping his sunglasses back over his eyes.

The officer flashed Jack an insincere smile. “We'd rather not discuss this here,” he said.

“Am I under arrest for something?” Jack asked.

I was amazed at how he was talking to the police. If it had been me, I would have said, “All right,” and gone with them.

“We need to have a little conversation about an incident,” the officer repeated more slowly.

Jack crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Am. I. Under. Arrest?” Jack asked again.

The second officer shook his head and stepped away, pulling a two-way radio off his belt. The crowd parted again, and the photographer who had been at the half-pipe and the beach party the day before appeared and started snapping photos.

“No, you're not under arrest,” the first officer said. He was a big guy with the kind of red ruddy cheeks people get from being outside a lot. He had one hand on his belt.

“Well, I'm not going anywhere. And I'm not really interested in answering any questions,” Jack said. The photographer kept taking photos, shooting them off one after another. Jack turned his back to the photographer, but it didn't seem to dissuade him. “Not until you tell me what this is all about.”

“Fine,” the first officer said. “There are accusations you either intentionally or accidently injured a girl at an illegal beach party at Heath's Head last night.”

“What?” Jack said. “Who?”

“We are not at liberty to disclose the individual's identity,” said the officer. “Were you at Heath's Head last night?”

“Yeah. But I didn't hurt anyone,” Jack said.

The second officer slid the two-way radio back into his belt and came over. He pointed at a cruiser in the parking lot. “Could you turn this way for us?” the first officer said to Jack.

“What?” Jack said. “No, I didn't—”

The first officer grabbed Jack's arm and spun him around. The photographer went wild and shot off dozens of photos. “Look toward the police car, son,” the first officer said, sounding tired with the whole thing. The second officer pulled his radio from his belt again and held it to his ear.

“Get your hands off me,” Jack said, shaking the first officer's hand off his arm. “You can't do that.”

“Look toward the car, please,” the first officer repeated.

Jack stood still. He looked at the cruiser's darkened windows.

The second officer stepped away. He strapped the radio back onto his belt and said, “She says it's not him.”

“Who says it's not me?” Jack said. “What's going on here?”

“It's been cleared up,” the second officer said. “Sorry to bother you.”

“Sorry to bother me?” Jack said.

“Sure,” the first officer said. “Sorry to bother you.” And without another word, the two of them walked back to their car.

“What was that all about?” Goat asked.

“I don't know,” Jack said. “But I'm going to call my agent about it.” He jammed his hands into his pockets and kicked his skateboard into the wall. When it rolled back to him, he picked it up and gripped it tightly. He kept an eye on the photographer. “What's up next?” he said through clenched teeth.

Goat looked at me. “Any ideas?”

My leg hurt too much to care. Whatever part of the contest was going to happen next would have to wait for another day. “No.”

“Well, I have one,” Goat said.

“Okay. What is it?” I asked.

Goat looked around the park. A couple of skaters had dropped into the course, and the
tap tap tap
of skateboard tails bouncing off concrete started up. “I can't say right now,” he said. “How about…” Goat stopped. A couple of people milling around behind us were leaning forward, trying to eavesdrop. Goat put his arms around Jack and me and pulled us close. “How about we meet at the parking lot down at the beach? Say tonight at nine?”

“Sure,” Jack said, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “I'll be there.” Then he walked back to his car, his phone stuck to his ear.

“What do you have in mind, Goat?” I asked.

He smiled and gave me a shot in the shoulder. “You'll see, Head Case. You'll see.”

chapter seven

The beach parking lot was eerily quiet for a Saturday evening. Sara and I were sitting on a picnic table, watching the tide roll in, when the headlights from Goat's piece-of-junk Honda approached.

“What do you think he has planned?” Sara asked.

“I have no idea,” I said.

“How's your leg?”

“It still hurts, but I'll be all right,” I said, though it wasn't the truth. My shin felt five times larger than normal. I cringed every time I put weight on that leg. But I would have to suck it up.

“You know, you don't have to do any of this,” Sara said as we watched Goat get out of his car. The windows were tinted, so it was a surprise when Danny McNaughton swung out of the passenger's side.

“Yes, I do,” I said. “If I don't, where'll I be?”

“Right where you were last week, before Jack's agent contacted you,” she said. “Life wasn't so bad way back then, was it?”

“No,” I said. “But it could be better.”

“Your call.”

Goat and McNaughton crossed the parking lot and stood before us in the sand. “Where's Jack?” Goat asked.

“Playing hide-and-seek,” Sara said. “Your turn to go find him.”

“Ha ha,” Goat said. He looked at McNaughton. “She's a funny girl. What do you think, Danny? Is she a funny girl?”

“A riot,” McNaughton said.

“What are you doing here?” I asked McNaughton.

“He wants to apologize to Jack for what happened last night at the beach,” Goat said. Yeah right, I thought, of course he does.

“Listen, Head Case, no hard feelings about all this, right? I just figured—”

“I know what you figured, Goat,” I said, cutting him off. I didn't want to hear anything from Goat. He shrugged and turned to look up the road. We waited in silence for another minute or so before Jack's Lexus pulled up behind us. He got out of the car with his phone to his ear and absently dropped the skateboard Goat had given him on the ground.

“Hey, Jack, glad you could—” Goat stopped when Jack raised a finger.

Jack leaned against his car and stared out at the ocean as he continued talking on his phone. Finally he finished his conversation, grabbed his board, slapped on a big smile and walked over to the picnic table. “Sorry about that,” he said. “Business.” He looked at McNaughton. “What are you doing here? Looking to shove people around again?”

“I came to say I'm sorry 'bout that,” McNaughton said.

“Really?” Jack said.

“I get kinda crazy sometimes. No offense.” McNaughton stuck his hand out. “Friends?”

Jack stared at McNaughton for a moment, and then he shook his hand. “Next time a gentle tap on the shoulder would do, huh?” Jack said. “And no more of that ‘Teen Beat' stuff either.”

“Sure, sure,” McNaughton said.

Jack turned to me. “So, what's on for tonight?”

“I have no idea. Goat's the one who called us here,” I said.

“Right. Okay. So,” Goat said, “you want to learn about true skate culture, right?”

“Sure,” Jack said, not sounding all that enthusiastic.

“Well, skating is a large part of it,” said Goat. “Another part, a part I'd say is just as important, is the danger of skating forbidden places.”

“Forbidden places?” Jack asked.

“Yeah. I mean, people have hated skateboarders since the seventies,” said Goat. “We're banned from streets and sidewalks and malls.”

“Okay, so where are we going tonight?” Jack asked.

“Henderson's pool,” Goat said. I felt Sara tense up beside me.

“And what is Henderson's pool?” Jack asked.

“Simply the cleanest, purest, most empty pool in town. It's in this dude's backyard. And it is huge. Something like ten feet deep. There's also a hot tub and a shallow area. It is absolutely perfect.”

“And empty in August?” Jack asked.

“Empty all the time,” Goat said. “It's been empty for five years. But here's the amazing thing: it is still cleaned weekly.”

“What?” Jack said. “Why?”

“Because Henderson's wife died in it,” I said. “Which is also why Mr. Henderson would lose his mind if he caught anyone skating it.”

“Someone died in the pool?” Jack asked. He seemed more curious than freaked-out.

“Yeah,” Goat said. “Mrs. Henderson. Rumor has it she was drunk, fell in and drowned. Since then Henderson has kept the pool empty and perfectly clean.”

“And you want to skate this place?” Jack asked.

“No,” I said.

“You don't have to, Head Case,” Goat said. “But this is all part of it, Jack. All part of the real skater attitude. Isn't this the kind of thing you need so you can get into your character?”

“I don't know,” Jack said. “Seems like it might be a sacred place.”

“It's a pool,” Goat said. “A beautiful, clean, perfect pool.”

Jack shrugged. “All right, I'll come watch. I mean, I wouldn't be able to skate it, would I?”

“I doubt it,” Goat said. “It's a steep drop-in. But give me a week. I could train you to, no problem.”

“What about you, Casey?” Jack asked.

I stared at Goat. He had me cornered, and we both knew it. If I backed out, that would be the end of it. Jack would hire Goat to train him. But there was something about Henderson's pool. Something, as Jack said, that was sacred. It didn't feel right. Never mind that we might get caught. “I don't know,” I said.

“I have it on good authority that Mr. Henderson is out of town at the moment,” Goat said.

“You do, do you?” Sara said. “What authority is that? Did your pet hamster tell you?” She turned to me. “Come on, Casey, this is stupid.”

“How would Jack judge who is best?” I asked.

“I don't know. How about you decide, Head Case,” said Goat.

I thought about it for a moment. I didn't have many options. “We drop in at the same time,” I said. “First one to bail loses.”

“Sounds good,” Goat said. He looked to Jack. “Sound all right to you?”

“Sure,” said Jack.

“No contact,” I said. “No cutting the other guy off. Nothing but skating. No stopping. No rolling around in the bottom of the pool. You have to hit one side, then the other, and go full-out.”

“Head Case,” Goat said. “When have I ever
not
gone full-out? Come on, let's go before it's past your bedtime. We can take my car.”

chapter eight

The Henderson house was at the bottom of a road that passed through a section of forest and ended at the ocean. There were no other houses in the area. Goat pulled up to the curb and parked as far away as he could from the only streetlight on the block. We all grabbed our boards and climbed out of Goat's car.

“This is the only way in,” Goat said.

It was dark and cool as we stepped from the street into the forest. We hiked up an incline, pushing our way through branches and bushes until we came to a chain-link fence. It was true: to a skater, Henderson's pool was a beautiful thing.

“His backyard is gated, so we have to climb the fence,” said Goat.

I could hear the waves washing against the shore and the caw of seagulls circling overhead.

“I'd rather not,” Jack said. He had his skateboard with him, but we all knew he wouldn't be riding the pool.

“That's cool. You can stay out here,” Goat said.

“What about you?” I asked Sara.

“Whatever,” she said. I knew she would love to skate Henderson's pool. I also knew she would never do it—not because she was scared of getting caught, but because she felt it was wrong.

“I'm going to go wait in the car,” McNaughton said. He and Goat had been friends since they were kids, but McNaughton was more interested in football than skateboarding. We'd probably return to find him half-asleep in Goat's car, listening to a country singer moan about a broken truck and a dead dog.

“Do you want to climb over?” I asked Sara.

She narrowed her eyes. “No, I can watch you be an idiot just as easily from here. I'll stay with Jack.”

“Perfect,” Goat said. He put one foot through a link in the fence, pulled himself up and threw his board over the top. I did the same. The two of us climbed the fence and dropped over the other side.

My shin screamed when I landed on the hard concrete surrounding the pool. I grabbed my leg and looked up to find Goat smiling at me.

“A bit tender, Head Case?” he asked.

“I'll be fine,” I said. I stepped forward to retrieve my board, and the pool exploded with light.

“Don't worr y about it. Old man Henderson ain't around,” said Goat. He grabbed his board and looked at the pool. “That is beautiful.” He turned to me. “Let's say we roll in, all right? Take it easy to start off?” He glanced at my shin.

“Sure.”

Goat squinted into the darkness back toward where Jack and Sara were. “One of us bails, and it's over, cool?”

“Cool,” Jack said.

Goat and I walked to the edge of the shallow end and stepped in. The pool gradually got deeper until it was a full ten feet deep. It was shaped like a keyhole, perfectly round at the deep end, and straight and square at the shallow end.

Goat dropped his board. “On the count of three,” he said.

I dropped my board and put my foot on the tail. “One, two, three.”