Skateboard Sibby

by Clare O'Connor

  He heads for the quarter pipe.

  “What’s a rock to fakie?” asks Charlie Parker Drysdale. He’s facing the sign instead of the park where Freddie is skateboarding.

  “You have to look for me to tell you,” I say.

  He turns and looks at Freddie who is on his way up the ramp.

  “He needs to get the front of his board over the coping,” I tell Charlie Parker Drysdale.

  “Coping,” he says. “Barely.”

  “No, no,” I say. “The coping. It’s that round metal at the top of the ramp.”

  Freddie pops the nose of his board up and over the coping.

  Bail. Bail. Bail, I am saying inside my head.

  But then he brings the nose of his board back up and rides back down the ramp fakie.

  “Niiiiceeeee,” shouts Jake.

  “What happened?” asks Charlie Parker Drysdale.

  “He did it,” I say. “And that means it’s my turn.”

  And, for some reason, I already feel like I’ve lost.

  I wait for Freddie to come back so I can put his equipment on, but he doesn’t. He stays on his board, lifts the nose into the air, and turns really slow to face the opposite side of the park. At first, I don’t know why he’s doing that, but then I see a wooden ledge. I know exactly what he’s about to do and I don’t like it. Not one bit.

  “Ohhhh,” I hear. “SICK,” shouts someone from behind Jake.

  “What’s going on?” asks Esther.

  “Hey, new girl!” shouts Freddie. His board is facing the ledge, but his head is turned to face me. “You think you can beat me? Think again.”

  He points at the ledge in front of him.

  “WHOA,” shouts Jake. “Is he gonna do a…he is…no way.”

  The guys behind Jake are jumping up and down.

  “What?” I hear Esther and Charlie Parker Drysdale say at the same time.

  “What’s going on?” asks Hannah.

  “He’s not waiting for a tie,” I say. “He’s gonna do a backside bluntslide. And that means I have to do it too.”

  Freddie skates toward the ledge. He’s up. He lands his back truck on the ledge.

  He’s sliding. Still. Sliding. He lands.

  BAM.

  Freddie’s friends are jumping up and down.

  He did it. And he slid half the ledge. I don’t know how many Mississippis that is, but I’m pretty sure it’s more than I can do.

  And now he’s running toward me and pointing.

  “Beat that,” he says. Freddie’s eyes are big and excited. He’s jumping up and down in front of me.

  “Here,” he holds out his skateboard and then stands still long enough to remove his helmet, elbow and knee pads.

  “Take them, new girl,” he says and passes me his equipment.

  I can do this. I can do this. I tell myself. But, saying it over and over doesn’t make it stick. My insides feel funny. And it’s not because of sour milk this time. It’s not even so much about a feeling I have as it is about one I don’t have. It feels like that slam in the back lot knocked way more than air out of me. And whatever went away hasn’t come back.

  I.

  Feel.

  Like.

  A.

  Loser.

  Hannah, Esther, and Charlie Parker Drysdale are chanting, “SIBBY. SIBBY. SIBBY.” But then Freddie starts chanting even louder, “SIPPY, SIPPY, SIPPY.”

  I drop in. I skate along the flat and stare down at Freddie’s board. It doesn’t feel right. I try to tell myself it’s just a regular board. But, all I can think about is that it belongs to Freddie. It wants me to lose.

  I snap the tail and slide my front foot forward. I’m in the air.

  “That’s an ollie,” I hear Charlie Parker Drysdale yell.

  I don’t get the best height but the bet wasn’t about that. It was about not bailing.

  I land.

  BAM.

  I move right into kickflip. Skateboarding is supposed to be fun, but, right now, it just feels like a big test, one that I forgot to study for.

  BAM.

  I land the kickflip.

  I hear cheering as I head up the ramp to do a rock to fakie.

  I need to be going faster. I wish I felt better on this board. I was used to my old one, the way you get so used to knowing where things are in your bedroom you don’t even have to think about where the desk chair is before you drop your backpack on it. I have to think about where everything is now.

  Without even knowing how I got there, my mind is thinking about missing my bedroom. And then it starts thinking about my broken board. And then about how I’ll probably lose my shoes and never be able to own skate shoes or a skateboard again.

  I stop at the bottom of the ramp.

  The music stops too.

  “Ohhhh,” I hear.

  “Did she bail? I knew it,” shouts Freddie.

  “She didn’t bail,” says Jake. “Still on her board.”

  “Whose side are you on?” asks Freddie.

  “You made the rules, dude. Only one. If you bail, you lose. I’m just saying, she didn’t bail.”

  “She will,” I hear Freddie shout.

  I shake my head to try and make myself stop thinking and then I ride back in the direction I just came from.

  “Just get it over with,” I tell myself.

  I push off and skate toward the top of the ramp. On the way up, my mind starts showing me pictures of things I want to forget.

  My broken board.

  Saying good-bye to Vera.

  I am at the top of the ramp and I hear a familiar voice calling to Freddie. I pop the front of my board over the coping.

  “Stop,” I tell my thoughts. “Go away.”

  Then I pop the board back up and over the coping again. I’m on my way back down fakie.

  I head straight for the ledge.

  “Sibby!” I hear Jake’s voice.

  You should have told that bully to back off, I say like I’m talking to Dad. Why didn’t you at least try?

  “You can stop,” Jake shouts.

  No way. If I stop, I lose, I tell myself and I keep going.

  I hear Hannah yelling something, but the music just got loud again, and I can’t hear what she’s saying.

  I get ready. I’m in the air.

  I land my board on the ledge, but my back foot starts to slide just like before.

  No other choice.

  I bail.

  Board flies behind me. I go down. Hard. On the ground. On my backside.

  Another.

  Total.

  Slam.

  I bailed, I tell myself as I am lying on the ground. Again. What’s happening? When did I go from being Skateboard Sibby to just Sibby?

  I lie flat out on the cement with my arms and legs spread out like you do when you’re trying to make a snow angel. I hear people yelling, but I’m not sure what they’re saying. The clouds are moving and that makes me feel dizzy. But then I no longer see the clouds. I see four eyes staring down at me.

  “It’s okay,” shouts Esther. “No blood.”

  “And nothing broken,” says Hannah. She’s looking all over my body. “At least I don’t think there is. No bones sticking out anyway.”

  Then Charlie Parker Drysdale’s eyes appear.

  “Whoa,” he says.

  “Good thing it didn’t count,” says Hannah.

  “You better practice if you want to beat Freddie,” says Esther.

  “Not with this board,” says Jake and now eight eyes are looking at me.

  “What are you talking about?” I say and I stand up. “What do you mean, it didn’t count?”

  Jake is holding Freddie’s board by the nose in one hand. He has his other hand out waiting for
me to take off the helmet and pads.

  “Where’s Freddie?” I look around, but there’s no sign of him.

  “Had to go,” says Jake. “I’ll give him his stuff.”

  “Go?” I pass him the helmet and pads. “Where? Why?”

  “Had to call it off just as you landed on the ledge,” says Jake. “Just did.”

  “You heard him,” Hannah says. She’s standing in front of me winking. “Freddie called it off.”

  “Huh?” I say.

  “You were about to tie the competition,” she says, “but then Freddie had to leave so it doesn’t count.” She’s looking at me and nodding like she wants me to nod too.

  I’m confused, but I nod.

  “Sorry I made you bail when we were shouting at you,” says Jake. “Tomorrow. Same time and place,” he says and walks away carrying Freddie’s board and equipment.

  “Tomorrow,” says Hannah.

  “I’m going to get my scooter,” says Esther and she starts walking toward the bicycle rack.

  “I’ll come with you,” says Charlie Parker Drysdale. “Sibby?” he adds.

  “I’ll catch up,” I say. But then I wait for him to walk away before asking Hannah, “They think I bailed on purpose? Because everyone was yelling at me?”

  “Exactly,” she says.

  “But,” I say, “that’s not—”

  “I have to go,” says Hannah, “or I’ll be late for debate practice. I know you bailed. And I know it wasn’t on purpose, but don’t admit it, okay? I’ll tell you more later,” she says and starts to run back to the school.

  “But,” I yell after her, “how did you know what really happened?”

  “I’ll tell you later,” she yells back.

  Guess Hannah really does know everything.

  Chapter 11

  Time for Talking

  Nan puts pumpkin-chocolate muffins and lemonade on the kitchen table. Esther is telling her all about what happened at school today.

  “…and then he left,” says Esther.

  “That sounds like a very busy first day,” says Nan.

  “They’re doing it again tomorrow,” says Esther. “Hey, we could come over again after school and tell you what happens.”

  “It’s so nice to have kids around this table again,” says Nan. “You can come over anytime you want.” And then she looks at me and adds, “As long as it’s okay with Sibby.”

  It’s not.

  But Esther and Nan are both looking at me like they want me to say it’s okay. I stuff muffin inside my mouth and then point at it because I can’t talk with a mouth full of food.

  Esther looks at me and points to her bottom lip. “Piece of chocolate right there.”

  Charlie Parker Drysdale passes me a napkin.

  I shake my head to tell him no, and then I lick the chocolate off my lip.

  “Now, I’m going to leave you three to eat your muffins,” says Nan. “Pops and I will be going for a walk soon, so I have to change clothes.”

  “Okay,” I say, but I don’t get why she can’t walk in the clothes she has on. She’s wearing jeans and a long-sleeve shirt with yellow and white stripes.

  “Your nan is so cool,” says Esther. “My grandparents live in Vancouver. I’d totally love it if they were in Halifax and made muffins after school. I’d never leave.”

  I decide not to tell her about the sour milk.

  “I still don’t get why Freddie left,” I say.

  “It’s like we told you,” says Esther. “It started right around that rock fake thing.”

  “Rock to fakie,” I say.

  “Yeah that,” says Esther. “My Vogue magazine has a whole section on skateboarding since it’s in the Olympics now. I didn’t read much about the jumps, just the clothes.”

  “They’re called tricks,” says Charlie Parker Drysdale, but he says it just before he takes another drink of lemonade so it makes his voice sound deep when he talks into the glass.

  “Tell me again,” I say. “Ms. Anderson just called his name and he ran?”

  “Yep,” says Esther, “and then he told Jake to call it off and you’d go again tomorrow. You barely started that last trick. The slide one. And he was gone.”

  “Backside bluntslide,” I say. “So, then he didn’t see me…” I am about to say “bail” but I remember what Hannah said and I say, “bail on purpose?”

  “Nope,” says Charlie Parker Drysdale, “but Jake kept videoing it with his phone.”

  “He did?” I say.

  “He’s always taking skateboarding videos,” says Esther. “Hey, why aren’t you finishing your muffin?”

  “I dunno. I guess thinking about losing my shoes makes me not hungry,” I say.

  “Why are you thinking that?” asks Charlie Parker Drysdale. “This morning, you sure seemed like you thought you could win. What happened?”

  I don’t know how to answer Charlie Parker Drysdale. All I know is I feel different.

  “If you lose, just get a new pair,” says Esther. Then her eyes get big and she’s smiling. “Hey, I’ll go with you. I’ve never shopped for skateboard clothes and shoes before. You could come over to my place first, and we could plan out an entire shopping spree. We could even call it Skateboard—”

  “I won these,” I interrupt her. “And new ones are expensive. And I don’t like sprees or any kind of clothes shopping.”

  “Oops, sorry,” says Esther. “Forgot about your parents not having jobs.”

  My face feels hot. I don’t like how Esther keeps reminding me about things I don’t want to think about.

  “Here,” says Charlie Parker Drysdale before I can answer Esther, “I found videos of Freddie at the new park. Look.”

  He turns up the volume.

  I hear Freddie’s voice in the video say, “I’m gonna boardslide that five-stair hubba.” I look away.

  “I’m done,” I say. “I can’t watch Freddie skateboard anymore.”

  I think about Dad. Maybe he did stand up to that bully but then, like me, ended up thinking he couldn’t do the thing he was always good at anymore. Maybe that’s why he quit.

  “So can you do those things, too?” Charlie Parker Drysdale says. “I mean, won’t you have to do all new tricks tomorrow?”

  The old me would have said, “Sure, I can do those things.”

  But I just say, “Um, yeah, maybe.”

  “Can you practice at the park in the morning before school?” asks Charlie Parker Drysdale. “I’ll go with you.”

  “What’s she going to practice with?” asks Esther. “No board, remember?”

  I don’t like the way Esther’s voice sounds when she talks about me not having a board.

  “Hey,” she says. “My sister’s boyfriend has three boards. He skateboards on the Commons mostly. I can ask if you could borrow one of his. Or, even better,” she gets off her chair and bounces up and down, “I could ask my parents to loan me some money to buy you a board,” she says. “I know you said you don’t like clothes shopping, but we could totally focus on a board and maybe some accessories. Oh my gosh, accessories! I bet I could find pink shoes with white stars to go with my helmet. I love shopping for…”

  “What? NO!” I shout. “Stop.” I can’t even get the words out to explain what an awful, terrible, stupid idea that is. Loan money. Just because her parents have more than mine. What?

  Esther’s not listening.

  “You could pay me back,” she says and she’s waving her hands like I’ll change my mind if I just listen to her more. “Maybe if your mom or dad get a job you could—”

  “They will get jobs,” I say.

  “Finding a job isn’t easy,” says Charlie Parker Drysdale.

  “Hey, if your dad isn’t working next summer,” Esther says, “maybe you could move in to our cottage
and—”

  I close my eyes and shout, “JUST STOP!”

  I can’t take it anymore. I don’t want to talk about jobs or how Esther’s parents have more money or moving again. Isn’t it enough that I don’t have a skateboard and now I’ll probably lose my shoes? Why do bullies always win? Why can’t Esther stop talking?

  And then, when I open my eyes, more words start to fly out of me and now I’m the one who can’t stop.

  “My parents are totally going to get jobs. And when they do, I’m going back to my old school with my old friends, who have regular-colored hair and eat regular lunches and wear regular shoes and who know how to skateboard. This school sucks and so does living here.”

  “Sibby,” says Charlie Parker Drysdale. He looks like he’s never even seen anyone yell before. “Esther didn’t mean—”

  “And what would you know?” I say. “About any of it—other than what you blab to pretty much anyone who’ll listen. Seriously, what is that about?”

  Esther looks really upset. She looks like I just told her she can never, ever shop again. She walks toward the back door.

  “Wait for me,” says Charlie Parker Drysdale to Esther. As he’s going out the door he says, “Sure seems like Freddie isn’t the only one who changed over the summer.”

  I can’t think of one single thing to say. I keep opening my mouth hoping new words, ones that make sense, will fall out before the door shuts behind Esther and Charlie Parker Drysdale, but nothing does.

  I take a deep breath.

  “I am nothing like Freddie,” I whisper after they leave.

  I hear a weird swishing sound from behind me and then I see Pops.

  “Let’s talk,” he says.

  Chapter 12

  Changes are Hard

  Nan and Pops are dressed in matching tracksuits that swish when they move. I like to think Nan and Pops are cool, but this? This is full on not cool. Nan’s jacket is red with a thick black stripe around each arm. The pants are all red. Pops’ jacket is black with a thick red strip around each arm and the pants are all black. Pops stops swishing when we get to the living room. And then he swishes again when he sits down.

  Nan swishes when she taps the space on the sofa beside her.