“Sibby?” she says. “What are you doing here? Did you make that crashing sound? It was like someone threw a…” she looks at the skateboard I’m holding,“…a skateboard against the door.”
“Um, yeah, dropped this.” I hold up the board.
“Why did you come in through that door?” she asks.
“Oh, um…. New girl, you know,” I lie.
“Hold on,” she says. And then she asks, “I have a really good memory. I didn’t see you with a skateboard before. Is that yours?”
“I…um…okay,” I say because I know I’m busted. I walk closer to her. “I need you to keep a secret. For real,” I tell her.
“Yeah,” she says. “Okay. I think so.”
“For real,” I say again.
“Did you commit a crime?” she says.
“No,” says my outside voice. I don’t think so…not exactly, says my inside voice.
“Then okay,” she says. “For real.”
“I borrowed it,” I tell her. And then I tell her the rest. All of it. Okay most of it. I leave out the part about not being sure I didn’t commit a crime, since I took the board without asking.
“It’s a ghost board,” I insist. “Anyone can borrow a board without an owner, right?”
“Wow,” she says. “That right there is a good question for a debate. But a board without an owner?” she says. “No way.” And she’s shaking her head back and forth. “I mean there’s an explanation for everything. Someone has to own it.”
“Are you going to tell?” I ask. “If not, I have to get it back before anyone sees it’s missing. But first I need to get the dirt and scuff marks off.”
Hannah takes a deep breath. “You really don’t know who owns it?”
“I swear,” I answer. “I just wanted to practice. I have to beat Freddie at the skatepark. I have to win.”
Hannah’s eyes flicker. It’s like something inside her actually caught the words that just flew out of my mouth.
“What do you need?” she asks.
My mind is racing. I don’t clean my board as often as Vera does, but when I do, I use whatever she’s using. Then I remember watching Jackson Jo use a…
“…a belt-sander cleaner,” I say. “Hey, where are you going?”
Hannah runs through the open door beside the gymnasium, disappears, and then reappears with something that looks exactly like what I saw Jackson Jo use.
“Thanks.” I start rubbing.
“My dad has everything down here,” she says.
It’s working. The board is already starting to look like it did when I took it off the shelf. “Hey, did you finish practicing?” I ask. “You said something about the debate team.”
Just a couple more scuffs left to get rid of.
“Debating provincials are in November,” she says. “But, like you, I have to win. I totally get that feeling.”
“I have to beat a bully. Why do you have to win?”
“The prize money,” she says. “It goes to a university fund. And I have to go to university.”
“But we’re only eleven,” I remind her.
“My family doesn’t have much money,” she says. “If I don’t start saving, I might not be able to go.” I stop rubbing and look at Hannah’s face. It looks worried.
And then I don’t know why but I whisper, “I broke my skateboard. No way we can afford a new one.”
“You don’t have a skateboard?” she says. “Sibby. That’s like…me not having books.”
And then we hear voices and lots of footsteps.
“They’re coming back inside,” says Hannah. “Sibby, just take the board and run. Go.”
“But not all the scuffs—”
“Close enough. We’ll get the rest out later,” says Hannah, like she can read my mind.
I run and get to the top of the stairs just in time to see kids coming through the door. I dart into the classroom. Ms. Anderson is facing the whiteboard. She doesn’t hear me as I’m putting the board on the shelf. I turn it so the side with the scuffs isn’t showing.
“Welcome back,” I hear Ms. Anderson say.
“Uh-oh,” I whisper, but then I see that she’s not talking to me. She’s not even looking at me. She’s talking to Hannah who must’ve come in right behind me. I back away from the shelf and move to the side as a line of kids comes into the class. Jake’s the first one.
My heart is beating really fast.
“Thank you,” I whisper to Hannah as I sit down.
No one saw a thing, is what my head tells me.
But when I look out the window, my heart tells me, Don’t be so sure.
Chapter 9
High Stakes
After school, Esther and Charlie Parker Drysdale walk to the skateboard park with me. At first, I thought it was nice not to have to walk there alone, but by the time we are halfway there, I am totally wishing I was alone.
They keep reminding me how good Freddie is.
“…even saw him do some kind of flip off the school stairs once,” says Esther.
I’ve had it.
I stop walking and look at both of them. “Quit it,” I say. “Quit talking about how good Freddie is.”
“But he is good,” Charlie Parker Drysdale says. “Really good.”
“Um, Sibby,” says Esther. She’s looking over my shoulder.
I ignore her. “You think Freddie is the best skateboarder at this school,” I say. “Maybe so, but I bet Jake isn’t over there telling him how good I am. Doesn’t help.”
“But Jake’s never seen you skateboard,” says Charlie Parker Drysdale. “He can’t know how good you are.”
“ARGH,” I say. “Not the point.”
“Sibby,” says Esther loudly.
“What?” I say.
“Freddie is holding his skateboard,” she says.
“So?”
“So,” she says, “it reminds me—shouldn’t you have a skateboard? I haven’t seen you with one all day.”
I take a deep breath.
“Oh, yeah,” says Charlie Parker Drysdale. “Where’s yours?” And then he points over toward the park. “And your helmet, knee pads, and elbow pads? The skateboard park rules say you can’t skate without proper equipment.”
“The skateboard park has a rules sign?” I say. “Didn’t see it before.” Skateparks should not have rules.
“Of course it does,” says Charlie Parker Drysdale, like he’d know about skateparks. “So? Where’s your board?”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I try again. Nothing.
It wasn’t this hard to tell Hannah what happened to my skateboard. Why is it so hard to tell Charlie Parker Drysdale and Esther?
“Sibby?” says Charlie Parker Drysdale. “Where is it? Where’s your board?”
I look over at Freddie. He’s waiting for me, expecting me to have my own board. There’s no way out of this.
“Guess you’re about to find out anyway,” I say.
“Well that doesn’t sound good,” says Esther.
“I don’t have one,” I toss my hands into the air. “Anymore. I don’t have a board anymore.”
“Sure you do,” says Charlie Parker Drysdale. “I’ve seen it.”
“I don’t,” I say. “It broke.” And then my insides feel like they’re on their way up to my throat again. Saying that at a skatepark, where you are about to go one-on-one with a total jerk, sure feels harder than saying it in an empty gymnasium with someone like Hannah. She gets what it’s like to not be able to buy stuff.
“Whoa,” says Charlie Parker Drysdale, and he just stares at me. “Why didn’t you tell me that before? I mean you always had a board. You love skateboarding. And what about being in the Olympics?”
I look over at Freddie. He’s standing there with an I’m-a
-better-skateboarder-than-you look on his face. Jake is with him and there are lots of kids from our class there too.
“Dunno,” I shrug. “Whatever.”
I sure don’t feel like competing against Freddie, or anyone.
“Um, no board is a big problem,” says Esther, and she says it in a way I don’t like. She sounds the way Pops told me I sounded last night when Nan asked if I was nervous about starting school. Pops said I “had a bad tone” when I said “Don’t really care.”
“You didn’t get another one?” asks Esther. And then she answers her own question. “Oh yeah. Forgot that your dad doesn’t have a job.”
I look at Charlie Parker Drysdale. “That,” I point toward Esther, “that is why I don’t tell you stuff. You blab. Not cool.”
“Why?” he says. “She asked. What was I supposed to say?”
“Say, ‘I don’t know,’” I tell him. “Or don’t say anything. Try that some time.”
I’m the only one who’s allowed to say my dad doesn’t have a job and that we had to move because of it.
“What about your mom?” says Esther. “Doesn’t she have a job?”
“No,” I say, and I’m starting to feel kind of hot.
“Oh,” says Esther. “So that’s why you moved in with your grandparents.”
And she says it like she gets it. Like she gets what happens when you have to sell your house and leave your super, super best friend and move away. Like she gets what it means to break your skateboard and know you can’t ever get another one. There’s no way that she, Ms. My-parents-have-jobs-a-house-and-a-cottage understands how any of that feels. No way.
“It’s like I said,” says Charlie Parker Drysdale, “I can cool it with the sweater-vests. Then no one has to do anything.”
Things are getting jumbled in my head again.
“Hurry up!” yells Freddie.
Freddie acting like a bully makes me forget I don’t have a board. I slow down and yell, “I’ll get there when I do!”
That makes someone in the crowd behind Freddie gasp. I think about Dad and wonder if he was afraid of the bully at work and that’s what made him quit his job.
“Look,” Freddie yells again. “New girl brought her friends, Sweater-vest Charlie and Blue-hair Esther. And, hey, here comes Big-eyes Hannah.”
Hannah is running toward us.
Freddie checks me all over like he’s actually looking for something. He says, “Um, you forget something?”
I look over his shoulder and down into the skatepark. Then I peek through the crowd of people and I see the Skatepark Rules sign Charlie Parker Drysdale was talking about.
“I’m waiting,” says Freddie.
“For what?” I hear Esther say.
“For new girl to tell me where her skateboard is!” he yells. “Duh.”
Freddie turns to Jake and the kids around him and says loudly, “Told you. A poser.”
Jake doesn’t laugh but the other kids do.
“I’m no poser!” I shout.
“Then where is it?” says Freddie. “Where’s your board?”
My mind is racing. What am I going to do?
“Hah,” shouts Freddie. “I knew it.”
I stand up straight like Mom said to, but it doesn’t help this time. Then I remember what Charlie Parker Drysdale said was one of the park rules. I look past Freddie and start reading the sign.
The first rule is that no one under the age of eight is allowed to skate unsupervised.
Blah, blah, blah.
Then I see it. It’s the third rule down. And I know exactly what to do.
“Doesn’t matter,” I say. I point to the rules sign. “Rule three. Says I can’t skate without a helmet, knee and elbow pads.”
“What?” says Freddie.
“Yeah,” says Hannah. “Sibby’s right. Too bad. Skate another time. Let’s go. Can’t break park rules.”
“Yeah,” adds Charlie Parker Drysdale. “Too bad she left everything at home…in a box…with lots of tape over it and…”
I stare at him and mouth, “Zip it.”
He gives me a thumbs up.
“Then how did you think you were gonna skate?” Freddie starts. “Is this a joke? Were you faking it this whole time? Knew you were just a poser.”
I can’t let total jerk-face get away with being a bully and telling everyone I’m a poser.
“I’ll use yours,” I blurt and I point to the one in his hand.
“No way,” says Freddie.
“You afraid I’ll beat you with your own equipment?” I ask.
Voices from behind Freddie say, “Whoa” and “Oh, snap” and “Burn.”
“Now who’s sounding like a poser?” I say, but I wish I hadn’t. I mean, I totally bailed behind the school and I don’t get why. I’m really not sure I can beat him.
“Dude,” says Jake. “Let her use it.”
“Fine,” says Freddie. “Use it then.” He’s smirking again. “But the bet just changed.”
“To what?” I ask.
“When I win, I get your crap shoes.”
“What?” I say.
I can’t bet my shoes.
“What’re you going to do with Sibby’s shoes?” asks Hannah. “You already have a nice pair.”
She’s right. Freddie’s skate shoes are like new. They’re black with cool bright green laces.
“She thinks she’s so good because she won some competition in some small place. When I beat Sibby, that means I’m better than her and everyone in Charlottetown. So, when I win, those shoes are mine. Is it a bet?”
“Hold on,” says Hannah. “What does Sibby get when she wins?”
“What do you want?” asks Freddie. “Not that it’s going to matter.”
“Your skateboard,” says Charlie Parker Drysdale and he smiles at me.
Everything is happening so fast. I’m still thinking about my shoes.
“No chance,” says Freddie.
“Scared you’ll lose?” Esther asks.
Freddie looks at me like he’s not sure he can win, but then his face changes.
“Okay,” he says. “My board for your shoes. Let’s do it. Bet?”
Everyone is waiting for me to answer. I can’t let a bully take one more thing from me, but I can’t back down. My mother says I never do, even when I should.
“Bet,” I say, but I sure don’t like these stakes. They’re pretty high.
Chapter 10
It’s On. No, It’s Off
There are so many kids around the skatepark. I have to zone them out. I mean they’re probably all here to cheer on jerk-face, except Hannah, Charlie Parker Drysdale, and Esther.
“Drop in, ollie on the flat, kickflip, rock to fakie. Simple,” says Freddie. Everyone looks confused.
“Easy,” I say, and it actually is. I’ve done all those tricks before. But I keep thinking about how I bailed behind the school. I mean what if I do it again on an easy trick? That’s worse than bailing on a hard one.
And then Freddie says, “Whoever bails loses. If it’s a tie—and it won’t be—we do a…”
Just don’t say backside bluntslide. Don’t say backside bluntslide. Don’t say backside bluntslide.
Freddie is staring at me and it’s like he’s inside my head when he says, “…backside bluntslide. And if you,” he points his finger at me, “don’t bail and actually land the trick, it’ll come down to whoever slides longest.”
He’s smirking again. I’d like to land a half cab on that smirky-jerky face.
But why did he pick that trick? I mean, I didn’t tell anyone here that I’ve only landed that trick once. And, even then, I barely held the slide for half a Mississippi.
And then I remember that there is someone I told.
“Hey, not that one,” says
Charlie Parker Drysdale. “I told you, she…uh-oh.”
“Charlie,” says Esther with a groan. “Seriously.”
And then I look at Charlie Parker Drysdale. He turns his hands palms up and lifts them both in the air. “Slipped out.”
Esther is shaking her head.
“Okay with you?” says Freddie, not really asking.
I don’t answer. I just put out my hand.
Rock, paper, scissors.
“One, two, three,” says Freddie.
We both do paper.
Again.
“One, two, three,” I say.
Scissors for me, Freddie does rock. He wins.
Third time.
“One, two, three,” we both count.
In my head, I’m thinking rock, but my hand makes paper.
Freddie does scissors.
He wins.
Shoulda gone with rock. What is wrong with me?
“Hah,” says Freddie. “I’ll go first. Show you how it’s done.”
“Just go already,” I say.
Freddie gets on his board and does a drop in.
He’s goofy-footed. I skate regular.
Freddie is on the flat and getting ready to ollie.
“Go, dude!” yells one of the boys who was with him at lunch. Another one holds out a smart phone connected to a small round speaker. Music starts playing and he turns the volume up.
Jake is holding up his phone taking a video as Freddie is getting ready to ollie.
He’s in the air.
Wow, he’s got serious height.
BAM.
Freddie lands the ollie.
“Nice,” I say. I mean I’m hoping he bails, but skaters cheer for each another. That is the only rule that should be on the Skatepark Rules sign. That and No Bullies Allowed.
Esther and Hannah are staring at Freddie. Esther’s head is bouncing up and down to the music. Charlie Parker Drysdale is pacing back and forth.
Freddie ollies again and this time he flips his board and stays over it like it’s nothing.
BAM.
He lands the kickflip.
“What’s next?” says Charlie Parker Drysdale. “I can’t look.”
“Rock to fakie,” I tell him.
“Almost there,” yells Freddie. Somehow his annoying voice travels over the music and cheering and comes right up into my eardrums.
Skateboard Sibby Page 5
