“Yeah,” I said. “Yeah, hard feelings. We could have been busted.”
“Did Henderson see you?” Goat asked.
“Not dead on. But my clothes, yeah. He could likely identify me,” I said.
Goat waved the thought away. “What are you getting so angry about? Nothing happened. We had a cool time, right, Jack?”
“Yeah,” Jack said. “It was intense.”
“Where is McNaughton?” I asked. Sara had popped off the ramp and stood beside me.
“He went with his brother down to LA,” Goat said.
Of course he did, I thought. He wouldn't want to face us after what he'd done.
“You won't have to worry about him for a week or so,” said Goat. He waved the bundle of papers in his hand at us. “Who cares about McNaughton? Do you want to hear my next idea?”
“What next idea?” I asked.
“For the competition. I mean, you won the first one. I nailed the street course, and we have to call last night in the pool a tie,” Goat said.
“Why would we call it a tie?” I asked.
“Well, it got interrupted,” Goat said.
“That's not the way I see it,” I said.
“Okay, how do you see it, Head Case?”
“I saw you jump off your board well before I laid a foot on the ground. I won,” I said.
Goat shook his head. “Really? What did you want us to do, keep skating until the police showed? Say, âSorry, officer, we'll be right with you, right after we finish this little competition'?”
“If you think it's so stupid, then why are we doing it?” I asked.
Goat sighed and laid the mass of papers against his leg. He turned to Jack. “Would
you
like to hear what I've come up with?”
“Sure, man,” Jack said.
“All right, I was reading the scriptâ” said Goat.
“What script?” I said.
Goat turned to me and said very slowly, “The movie script.”
I hadn't read a script. I didn't even know there
was
one. “Why do you have it?”
“I asked for it,” Goat said. “We need to have competitions that have something to do with the actual film, right? So I figured I'd read the script and see what whoever becomes the stunt double will have to do.”
“You can have a copy as well, Casey,” Jack said. “You just never asked. I was telling my agent about Goat, and he had no problem sending a script over. I'm sure he would do the same for you.”
Great, I thought. Now Jack's been talking to his agent about Goat. “Sure, send me the script,” I said.
“All right, so there's this old-school scene near the end of the script,” said Goat. “It's a downhill.”
“Yeah,” Jack said. “That's a throwback to old skate films. What do you think?”
“I love it,” Goat said. “And it got me thinking we should have a competition like that.”
“Like what?” I asked.
“A downhill.” Goat held the script out. “In here, it says the skaters ride long boards.”
“Yeah, that's right,” Jack said. “I've never been on a long board.”
“They're like normal skateboards, only longer, and the wheels are bigger,” I said. “You can go way faster on them.” Goat liked long boards. I could ride one, but they weren't really my thing.
“Is there somewhere around here you guys could do a downhill run on long boards?” Jack asked. He smiled and brushed his floppy hair out of his face.
“Beacon Hill,” Goat said.
I shook my head immediately. “No way, Goat.”
“What?” Jack said. “What is Beacon Hill?”
“It's this road that's only open in the winter,” I said. “It's just for trucks and plows to get up the mountain during ski season.”
“A kid died skating down it last year,” Sara said. “Skateboarding on it is banned now.”
“Sure, sure,” Goat said. “Skateboarders are banned from everywhere. Who will know? It's not as if anyone lives on the road or even drives on it.”
“How do you get up there?” Jack asked.
“There's another road that cuts across the top of the mountain. You can walk to Beacon Hill from it,” I said.
“Is it really that dangerous?” Jack asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“It's all right if you know what you're doing,” Goat said.
I did not want to ride Beacon Hill. I had heard of skaters going fifty or sixty miles an hour down it. There's no way to control yourself at that kind of speed.
“Well, a stunt like this is going to be in the movie,” Jack said.
“Exactly,” Goat said.
Jack looked at me. “So, you would have to be able to do it for that, Casey. I mean, if you're going to be my stunt double and all.”
“Exactly!” Goat said again.
“What do you think, Casey?” said Jack.
I shook my head. “It's dangerous, Jack. Really dangerous.”
“Don't think you can handle it?” Goat said.
“No, I can handle it. It's just⦔
“Perfect. All right. How about we meet here tonight,” said Goat. “Say around seven? I can drive us to the top of Beacon Hill, and Jack can leave his car at the bottom.”
“Sure,” Jack said.
“I'll bring a bike you can ride down behind us,” Goat said. “You all right on a bike?”
“Oh yeah,” Jack said. “No worries.”
No worries, I thought. Yeah, sure. No worries at all.
“This is the last time I'm going to say it. You don't have to do this,” Sara said. We were back at the half-pipe, waiting for Jack and Goat.
“Yes, I do,” I said.
“No, you don't, Casey. It's stupid. You could get killed.”
“Sara,” I said. “I don't have a choice. Now drop it.”
Jack's Lexus pulled into the parking lot, followed by Goat's crappy Honda. Sara was rigid. But I didn't care. I had to put everything out of my mind. I had borrowed a long board from a surfer friend and spent the afternoon practicing on it. Sara had been helping me. But she wasn't what you would call encouraging. She must have told me fifty times that I was going to bust my head open. I couldn't disagree.
“Casey,” Jack said as he swung out of his car. “Are you ready for this or what? I am so stoked!”
“Sure,” I said. I wished my leg was feeling better. I wished I was more comfortable on a long board. I wished I didn't have to do any of this.
Goat came running up behind Jack. “Everyone ready?” he said.
“Looks like it,” Jack said.
Goat looked at Sara. “You won't be able to come,” he said. “I have a bike for Jack in my car, so there's no room. You could stay with Jack's car at the bottom of the mountain, if you want.”
“That's all right. I wasn't going anyway,” she said. She turned around and started toward her house.
“Wait!” I said, chasing after her. She ignored me and kept walking. I grabbed her shoulder, but she shrugged me off. “Sara, wait.”
“Why?” she said, turning around. “Are you suddenly going to listen to me and quit this?”
“Sara,” I said. “I can't.” I could tell she was angry by the way she was standing with her hip jutting out to one side.
She frowned. “Well, I can't watch you.” She started walking away again.
“Sara,” I said one last time.
“If you survive, give me a call. I'll be at my grandparents for a few days, so⦔ She stopped and turned to face me. “I don't know. Just call me.”
I nodded. There was nothing else to say.
“None of this is worth killing yourself over,” she said. She crossed the ramp over to the trail that cut up to her house, and was gone.
“You ready to go?” Goat yelled.
“Yeah,” I said. I wanted this over. All of it.
Beacon Hill looked like it went straight down. I'm sure it was some kind of illusion, but standing at the top felt as if we were about to drop into a half-pipe rather than roll down a hill. The road zigzagged toward the bottom of the mountain. On one side of the road was a straight cliff up, and on the other side was a straight cliff down. Everywhere else was trees. The land was too steep to build houses on, so the mountain had been turned into a national conservation area.
“This is really steep, guys,” Jack said. It had taken us longer than we had expected to park Jack's car at the bottom and drive up in Goat's Honda. We got lost on one of the trails, which ate up another half hour. It was almost dark by the time we reached the top of Beacon Hill at eight thirty. The sky was purple, and long shadows stretched across the road. A drizzling rain had begun. It wasn't that bad, but it would soon make the road slick.
“That's the point, Jack,” Goat said. He looked up at the sky. “We should get going before it gets any darker or really starts to rain. It should take about twenty minutes to get to the bottom.”
“That long?” Jack said.
“It's a long way down,” Goat said.
Jack was sitting on an old mountain bike, his arms folded across the handlebars. “And you both think you can do it?” Jack asked.
“I guess we're going to find out,” Goat said. “First one down wins. Right?”
Jack shrugged. “I guess that'd be the best way to decide.”
“No pushing or cutting off,” I said.
“Sure, sure,” Goat said. But that's what he had said at the pool as well.
“I'll follow you guys, but I might be a bit behind. I'm not great on a bike,” Jack said.
“You'll be fine,” Goat said, giving him a pat on the shoulder. “All right, Head Case, you ready?”
I nodded. “On the count of three. One. Two. Three.”
I pushed off hard right away. Though I didn't really need to. Beacon Hill was steep. Really steep. After I rounded the first corner, I realized I would have to power-slide to keep my speed down, which was going to become difficult as the pavement got wetter.
Goat and I were neck and neck after the first two corners, but then I did a short powerslide and he shot ahead. I cut to the inside of the road as we neared the next corner, intending to angle myself so that I didn't lose too much speed. Goat didn't think to do the same, and he ended up with two wheels on the road's gravel shoulder. Somehow he managed to get back onto the pavement before he wiped out. He did a couple of long turns to steady himself, and I passed him.
The road seemed as if it was built by someone who'd chased a rabbit down the hill to mark the way. There didn't look as if there was any logic to where the turns were located. But I didn't have much time to think about how the road was constructed. The corners were coming faster and faster. I tried to slow down by powersliding, but I only went faster. I kept an eye on the side of the road, looking for a place to bail if I needed to.
When I hit a rock going around a corner, the back end of my board kicked out. It took everything I had to keep the wheels on the ground and my feet on the deck. I curved straight across the road, leaned hard on the front of my board and cut the other way. I was about halfway across when Goat appeared out of nowhere. I was facing uphill, and he barreled right at me. I dodged him, but as he passed he shot his arm out and clobbered me on the side of the head. I tipped forward and flew off my deck. I hit the pavement hard and slid at least ten feet. My board flipped and slid into the rock face.
Goat looked over his shoulder and laughed. He had too much speed, and hitting me had thrown his balance off. I watched as he tried to maneuver himself into a power-slide, but he couldn't get control. One of his front wheels hit a stone. He shot toward the edge of the road, onto the gravel, and was launched off his board.
He shot right over the side of the cliff.
“Goat!” I yelled. My clothes were torn, and there were cuts and scrapes all over my arms and legs. I got up and fell back down as my right knee gave out. I couldn't tell if my knee was broken, strained or what. But it hurt, and my leg couldn't hold any of my weight. I stumbled over to the edge of the road where Goat had gone off. It was a straight drop into thick forest. I yelled down into the darkness.
“Goat! Are you all right?” There was no response. I looked around, trying to figure out what to do. “Goat!” I yelled again. I couldn't see anything but trees. How could he not be dead? I couldn't even tell how far down the cliff dropped. I heard the screech of rusty brakes, and Jack came sliding to a stop beside me.
“Wow, this is a crazy ride,” he said, smiling. His hair had blown across his forehead and was damp from the rain. He looked down at Goat's long board. “Hey, where's Goat?”
“He went over the cliff,” I said. I felt as if I was going to be sick. “He flew right off. His board caught on the gravel, and he just⦔
“Crap!” Jack said, dropping his bike. “Goat!” No response. He yelled again. “What are we supposed to do?”
“Call someone,” I said.
“I left my phone in my car,” Jack said. “Where's yours?”
I pulled my phone out of my pocket. The phone flashed on and off again. I remembered flopping onto my bed the night before and forgetting to charge it. “Dead.”
“What are we supposed to do?” Jack said again.
“We have to go down there. He could be hurt. Or dead.”
“No,” Jack said. “We have to get to the bottom and get help!”
“If he's hurt, we have to help him now. He could be bleeding down there.”
Jack was motionless. I guess he had never been in a situation like this, one that was real. One where he actually had to
do
something, not call someone else to do it for him. He looked over the edge of the cliff and yelled again.
No answer.
“How are we even going to get down there?” he asked.
I looked over the edge of the cliff. The rock face was smooth, slick, and plunged straight down. “I don't know.”
There didn't seem to be any way to climb down. We walked along the edge of the road, calling Goat's name over and over. No response.