Brett waited for a reaction, but W.E. didn’t say anything. He just slowly rose to his feet and moved back a couple of steps, still looking at the skateboard as if at any moment it might come alive.
“What’s the matter?” Brett asked. “Why that look?”
“I’ve seen that board before,” W.E. said softly.
“Could be,” Brett said with a shrug. He didn’t want to hear any more. He wasn’t interested in the skateboard’s history. It was his now, and all he wanted to do was skate on it and enjoy it as much as he could.
“Well, you’re going to see a lot of it from now on, because this board and I have some serious practicing to do. See you later, W.E.” Brett zipped down the sidewalk, past Mrs. Weatherspoon’s house again. He didn’t bother to wave this time.
Reaching the curb, and seeing no cars coming, Brett bent his knees, grabbed both ends of the skateboard, leaped high, and did a complete 360 before landing on the street again. A feeling of extreme pleasure soared through him. It was only the second time he had ever done that trick.
Just wait, Kyle. One of these days …
He didn’t see the woman and her small daughter until he was already on the sidewalk and the woman yelled, “Hey, watch it, will you?”
Brett twisted to the left just in time to avoid hitting them. He jumped off the board, his heart pounding as he thought about what had almost happened. If he’d struck one of them, the skateboard might have caused a serious injury. He could have been sued for damages, and — worst of all — his skateboarding career would be over.
“I’m sorry,” he said breathlessly.
“Sorry? What good is sorry? You almost ran into us! You should be more careful with that thing!” the woman declared hotly. She looked to be in her late twenties. Her blond-haired daughter was about three or four.
Brett nodded quickly, blushing with embarrassment. Being sorry wouldn’t have done a bit of good if he had run into one of them. But he hadn’t, and thank goodness for that.
There was no use standing there looking forlorn, either, Brett figured. It was a close call. Let it go at that. He vowed, though, that he’d be more careful from now on. Not that he hadn’t been careful before. He always was.
But sometimes close calls happened,
he told himself.
He looked up the street, hoping he’d see his friend Johnee Kale.
Maybe I can get Johnee to skateboard with me,
Brett thought.
Maybe I’ll surprise him when he sees me pulling off some of my new tricks.
Brett’s excitement over his newfound skill replaced any trace of worry about his near-collision, and he sprinted down to Johnee’s house on the next block. He knocked on the door, and asked Johnee’s older sister, who answered it, if Johnee was in.
“He’s in the kitchen,” she said, studying his face as she spoke. “You’re …?”
“Brett. Brett Thyson,” he said. “We’re new here, and Johnee an’ I —”
“Oh, yeah!” she broke in. “Sorry I didn’t recognize you. …”
“Hey, Brett!” Johnee’s voice rang out from behind his sister. “What’s up?”
“Hi, Johnee,” Brett greeted him. “Feel like skateboarding a little?”
Johnee was holding an almost empty glass of orange juice in his hand. “Sure! One sec!”
He drained the glass, put it in the sink, then raced out of the house with his black-trimmed orange skateboard. “Let’s go!” he said.
He was so enthusiastic about leaving that he didn’t even notice Brett’s skateboard. Brett grinned as he followed his friend down the street, watching Johnee perform wheelies and Ollies. He felt lucky to have found a friend so soon, a friend who enjoyed skateboarding as much as he did.
They were crossing the street when Brett saw Johnee pull off a stunt that Brett had only seen in a magazine.
“Why, you son of a gun,” Brett mused.
“Exactly my sentiments, Brett,” said a familiar voice behind him. “It seems that your new friend, Johnee Kale, has learned a couple of new tricks, himself, doesn’t it? That was a G-turn and a one-eighty Kick Flip.”
Surprised, but not too surprised at the sound of the voice behind him — W.E. had a unique habit of sneaking up behind you like a cat — Brett smiled and nodded. “Yeah!”
Brett did a wheelie and a 180 Kick Flip himself. Then he spun and saw the human Walking Encyclopedia looking him directly in the eyes. “Do you want something?”
“I know why your skateboard seems familiar,” W.E. said softly.
“You do? Why?”
“It belonged to a kid named Lance Hawker. He was a national skateboard champion by the time he was sixteen. People used to call him Crackerjack Hawker.”
“A champion, huh? That’s cool.” Brett looked down at The Lizard with new appreciation. “Maybe some of it will rub off on me.”
Brett’s smile faded when he saw how serious W.E. looked. “What’s the matter, W.E.?” A terrible thought struck Brett. “You think this Lance guy will want his board back? Well, it’s mine now. I found it and —”
“No, Brett, he won’t want it back,” W.E. said solemnly. “He wouldn’t have any use for it. He’s dead.”
O
h,” Brett said sheepishly. “I’m sorry. I mean, did you know him?”
W.E. shook his head. “I only know
of
him. Everybody in town used to talk about him. First because he won so many contests, and then because of the way he died.”
Brett couldn’t help feeling curious. “What happened?”
“It all happened a few years ago, at the height of Lance’s career. He was hit by a car while skateboarding. That’s why they made it illegal to skate in the streets here.”
As usual,
Brett noted,
W.E. had all the facts, and he enjoyed sharing them.
Brett looked down at The Lizard and felt a chill go through him. “Do you … do you think he was riding
this
board when … ?”
W.E. shrugged. “I don’t know for sure, but it
was
his board, the one he used in all his contests.”
Then Brett had another eerie thought. “He must have lived in my house.”
“No, your house is brand new. The Hawkers lived around here, but their house was torn down a year ago, when they started building this development.”
That’s right,
Brett remembered with some relief. His family was the first one ever to live in their house. Still, Lance couldn’t have lived very far, because the board had been buried in their yard.
“Hey,” Brett shouted suddenly. “Who buried The Lizard? It couldn’t have been Lance, unless he buried it before the accident, but then why … ?”
“It could have been his parents,” W.E. suggested. “Maybe it brought back bad memories.”
“Maybe,” Brett agreed. Then he asked, “Where are the Hawkers now?”
“They moved out of town soon after the accident,” W.E. stated.
Brett heaved a sigh of relief. “Okay, then, no problem. Looks like I’ve got myself a new skateboard.”
He started to take off in the direction of Johnee, but W.E. ran up and grabbed his arm. “You’re not going to keep using it?” he asked, incredulous.
“Sure. Why not?”
“Doesn’t it make you feel … well, creepy?”
Brett waved the idea away. “No. I’m sorry about what happened to the guy, but that’s all in the past and it’s not going to keep me off this board. It’s ten times better than Cobra.”
“What’s better than Cobra?” Johnee appeared next to them, his forehead already covered with sweat from performing tricks on his skateboard.
Brett showed him The Lizard and, even though he hated to do it, he explained to Johnee where the skateboard had come from and to whom it had once belonged.
Johnee was amazed. “Crackerjack Hawker himself? Man, he was really hot.” He looked admiringly at The Lizard. “If that
was
his board, then I bet it’s something special.”
“It
is.”
Brett grinned. Finally here was someone who appreciated his find. “Something about it really suits me. I’ve been doing all sorts of tricks I never could do before. W.E. knows what they’re called, I don’t.”
Johnee didn’t wait for W.E. to list them. “Okay, let’s see some. Can you do this?”
With that, Johnee leaned down, grabbed the ends of his skateboard, and leaped over the narrow lawn to the curb, where he immediately performed a series of Frontside Grinds before jumping back onto the lawn and coming to a complete stop.
Brett followed Johnee’s action to a T, bending down, grabbing the tips of his skateboard, leaping over onto the curb, and knocking off a few grinds before coming to a complete stop right next to Johnee.
“Looking good,” Johnee said. “Maybe there
is
something about that board.”
“Hey, how about giving the rider some credit?” Brett said, laughing. His laugh was cut short when he saw W.E. staring at him from across the street.
“Stop looking at me like that, W.E.,” Brett said. “You make me nervous.”
“Oh?” W.E. shrugged and smiled. “I’m sorry, Brett. But I just can’t get over your …” He shrugged. “Your performance keeps amazing me.”
He sounds more like a college professor than a kid,
Brett thought.
“I’m glad,” Brett said. “Then keep watching me. Maybe you’ll see me doing tricks you’ve never seen done before.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” W.E. replied.
Feeling an urge to try some more fancy tricks, Brett sped down the sidewalk. The skateboard glided across the walk with barely a whisper. It was so much quieter than his own, so much easier to ride and to balance himself on. Never would he return it to the grave where he had found it. It would be crazy. The board was too hot, too good to be left to rot.
His heart raced as fast as the skateboard as he came to the end of the block, leaped off, and zipped across the street. He took the curb, then skated along the curve of it, doing both Tail Wheelies (the front wheels lifting off the curb) and Nose Wheelies (the rear wheels lifting off the curb). The toughest part was maintaining his balance on the narrow curb without the wheels sliding off the side. But he was succeeding, and he was filled with pride as he zoomed up the street.
Suddenly, a sound ahead made him look up, and the thrill in his heart turned to alarm. Almost to panic. Skating toward him on the curb was Kyle Robinson!
Kyle was up to his usual tricks. He just had to come along and show up everyone. Right now he was challenging Brett to a contest of guts, to see who would leap off the curb first in order to avoid a collision.
It won’t be me,
Brett thought.
I’m going to stick it out to the very last.
Closer and closer they came, their speed not slacking a bit. And as the gap between them closed, the fear grew in Brett’s heart.
Will Kyle really stay on the curb, even if it means running into me?
he wondered.
Neither one yelled out a warning. Both kept silent, each waiting for the other to make the move. Their eyes were on each other’s now, trying to read the icy stares, waiting to see which one would show more fear and give in.
It won’t be me,
Brett kept telling himself.
It won’t be me.
But, at the last moment — at the very last instant before they would surely make contact and risk serious injury — Brett jumped off the curb.
He felt the wind brush his face as Kyle swept past him, laughing out loud, declaring his victory.
Brett stood on his skateboard, glaring back at Kyle, his breath coming in quick, sharp gasps. He felt angry at himself for giving in, and he tried to justify his action by telling himself that a collision would have been inevitable if he hadn’t. Had he been wimpy? Or was the word “smart”? He preferred to think it was “smart.”
“Hey, a new skateboard, huh?” Kyle said, wheeling around and skating back toward him. “Yours?”
“Of course,” Brett said.
Kyle stepped off his board and took a step toward Brett’s. “How about a ride?”
Brett pushed back a few feet. “Sorry. No one rides this baby but me.”
Kyle shrugged, got back on his board, and pushed off down the street. He commenced doing a series of tricks, the first a simple and familiar one to –––Brett, one he had done himself. Kyle crouched down on his board with one leg stretched out straight ahead and his arms out at the sides. Other maneuvers included Ollies and curb tricks. Brett followed suit without a hitch.
Then Kyle went into fancier tricks, including a Ho-ho, which Brett duplicated without a bit of difficulty. Kyle went on to grind the front trucks of his skateboard on the edge of the curb, keeping the board parallel to the curb and its tail in the air. It was a trick Brett had never attempted before, but this time he was determined to try.
He followed Kyle’s maneuvers and
pulled each one of them off perfectly.
Well, not quite perfectly. On Kyle’s last stunt, he somersaulted in the air and made a safe, two-footed landing back on his skateboard. Brett tried to do the same. But, at the very last moment, as he landed back on his skateboard, he lost his balance and fell.
“Careful, Brett,” said Kyle mockingly as he swept around toward him. “Don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t,” said Brett, brushing the street dirt off his padded knees and pants.
He watched Kyle speed away, and then turned back to W.E. and Johnee, who were staring at him from the sidewalk.
“Wowee, Brett,” W.E. exclaimed, breathless. “That Shoot the Duck was simple. But you looked like a real pro pulling off a Ho-ho and a Nose Grind. When did you learn to do them?”
Ho-ho he understood. But Nose Grind? Boy, leave it to W.E. to know the crazy names of skateboard tricks! He never skated himself, but he sure knew every trick in the book, or close to it.
Brett wiped the sweat off his brow with his forearm. “Didn’t know I had,” he said.
“Yeah, sure,” said Johnee. “You’ve been practicing behind my back.”
“No, I haven’t, I swear,” said Brett. “I guess I’m just improving with age,” he added with a smile.
“Well, don’t go getting any older or someday you may catch up to me,” Johnee said as he hopped on his board.
Brett and Johnee were always arguing about who was the better skater, but it was all in fun. Their friendly competition was nothing like Brett’s rivalry with Kyle. When Kyle bragged about his abilities, he was serious, and everybody knew it. And, worse than that, he was right.