Skater Boy (Patchwork House Book 1)

by Mary Catherine Gebhard

  A pause.

  “But I pissed them off and they’re coming for us.”

  “We’ll figure it out, man,” I said. “This shit is nothing new.”

  “I handled it. Did something remarkably stupid.” King rubbed his temple. “I saw her again.” Pip, his girl, the reason he left home for Patchwork. I didn’t need to ask him how it went, it was clear on his face. “If you can have your girl, take her and don’t let her go.”

  King had been wrecked over this girl for as long as I could remember. Longer than I’d been over Tweetie. Longer than I knew him, even. Somehow, whatever happened, broke him further.

  So I did something reckless and stupid. I grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him into a half-hug. He tightened. King would never ask for affection. He wasn’t accustomed to it.

  None of us were.

  Then slowly, years of filth, of anger, of bullshit, faded away. His arm landed on my back. For a second, it was us just two teenagers from a broken past.

  We broke apart just as quickly, clearing our throats at the same time.

  King took a slow drag from his joint, and our eyes traveled back to Tweetie. She leaned on the sill, blue eyes stained with melancholy.

  “You’re both so blind. She’s head over heels for you. She’s been head over heels for you since she put your fucking poster up in her bedroom. She fell for the real you the night you gave her that damn crane. It became impossible to fight the night she left.”

  “And I fucked it up.” I fucked it up irrevocably the very first day.

  King handed me the joint with a frustrated grunt. “She thinks she fucked up your life.” My hand froze midair between us.

  What?

  Our eyes connected, finally. All at once she slammed the window shut.

  “Just go to her, dumbass.”

  TWEETIE

  A joint flickered to life below my window and I saw Flip, or rather, his outline shadowed by King’s flame. His eyes were aglow like black glass being blown. Our eyes locked, and I slammed the window shut, heart racing.

  So many nights I’d stared out that window searching for something but not sure what. When Flip’s eyes met mine, I knew instantly.

  Seconds turned into minutes turned into an hour. I sat on the bed, wondering if I should try and go to bed. I even turned off the light, like that would help. Yet I traced the cool, textured surface of my wall, wondering if Flip had come inside. My lids were heavy, shoulders weighed, but they were propped up by possibility.

  I knocked, a light rap at first. So softly I knew he couldn’t hear me.

  Then harder.

  I missed him so terribly, but I couldn’t form words. I missed him, and I didn’t know how to fix what was broken between us. So I let my fists talk against the wall between us.

  Knock. I’m sorry. Knock. Come back. Knock. Please.

  I knocked and knocked and knocked, getting bolder as lack of sleep deprived me of inhibition.

  Yet each knock went without a response, and eventually I fell asleep with my forehead pressed to the wall.

  Missing him.

  I woke up groggy, neck aching from the position, but somehow asleep and under the covers. It took a minute to get my bearings. I’d had nightmares. So many nightmares, the past colliding with the hurt and pain of the present, making them starker. I even dreamed Flip crawled into bed and held me through them, but that was insane because Flip didn’t sleep in beds.

  Everything was slow and sluggish, and I was blinking like I could fall asleep at any moment after such a restless night.

  But then I saw, and I was wide, wide awake.

  My board was propped against my desk like always, but it had a brand new, bright pink deck. It was like the patchwork decorating our house but in my favorite color. Resting over the deck was my origami crane, but it had been made into a bracelet.

  I picked it up, examining the thin gold chain. I knew this bracelet. I thought I’d lost it years ago, the night I first met Nate. Was it with Flip this entire time? Had Flip held on to it?

  I fell back against my wall.

  Punched in the gut.

  I was certain Flip left it for me, but without a note, I didn’t know what it meant.

  Was he returning my knock, or was he saying goodbye?

  Thirty

  Air: Riding with all four wheels in the air.

  TWEETIE

  All I could think about was Flip. Not the looming threat of Patchwork disappearing, or the fact that I had to be at my comp in an hour. This was my very last chance, and all I wanted to do was twirl the bracelet on my wrist over and over again.

  Daniel, Romeo, and I were in the kitchen. Romeo held my board, Daniel my helmet while King went to get his keys.

  “Helmet?” Check. “Board.” Check. “Devilishly good-looking Brit?” I rolled my eyes, but smiled, appreciating his levity, appreciating that no matter how dire the situation, I could always count on Romeo to light a cigarette on the flames of the house fire.

  Bacon, Sparky, and Pants made signs for me again and even Penelope tossed out an olive branch, offering to braid my crazy curls to keep them out of my face.

  “You’ll do fine, little girl,” Daniel said, but I think he knew the crease around my eyes had nothing to do with fear.

  Daniel and Romeo’s attentions were redirected to the other side of the kitchen as Sparky once again earned his nickname. I settled against the wall twisting the bracelet on my wrist.

  “You’re being too hard on him,” King said softly. I lifted my head to find him next to me, leaning on the Bill Murray mural.

  “Coming from you that’s…a surprise.” King shrugged, bending forward to ruffle my beanie, messing it up until the fuzzy gray and orange fell across my eyes.

  I pushed it up with one hand.

  After a moment passed, he said, “Maybe it’s time to forgive him, even if you’re still mad.”

  “I’m not mad! I’m ashamed.” I jumped off the wall in my vehemence. “I ruined his life. How can I look him in the eyes? I can barely look you in the eyes.” I paused. “If it wasn’t for me he would be this great skateboarder. Instead he wasted his life on me. Wasted his life beneath my window.”

  I had no idea what was happening these past years. How much he gave up. How do I even begin to fix that?

  “I don’t blame him for my dad’s death. Dad was driving intoxicated. It was sad and tragic but if anything, Flip’s the victim.”

  “If he wasn’t there—” King started, but I refused to let him go down that path.

  “Then Dad might have killed someone.”

  “You’re really not mad? Not disgusted?”

  I gasped, spinning at the voice. Flip. The kitchen door was open, streaming morning light. He held a board under one flexed arm, forearm straining.

  How long had he been there? What had he heard?

  “Um…no,” I said after a minute. “I’m not.”

  “Wow, uh, look at that really cool thing in the other room,” Romeo said, and then I remembered it wasn’t just Flip and me. Every time we were together, I got sucked into his vortex. “We should all go see how…cool it is.”

  “I don’t see anything,” Pants said, and King shoved him by the head so he stumbled forward into the living room. Everyone followed and then Flip and I were alone.

  His eyes landed on my wrist with a soft smile. “Nice bracelet.”

  I touched the crane, my heart fracturing into a billion pieces.

  I don’t deserve this, I thought, just as I noticed the board under his arm. Sweat shone on his muscled forearms and some beaded his neck. Had he been skating? But I’d had mine all morning.

  “Were you skating?”

  He looked down, eyebrows lifting like he forgot he’d had it. “Yeah.” Now I wished all the junk that piled between us was gone, simply so I could hug him, be happy for him.

  Flip skated without my board.

  Another silence splintered between us. There was so much I wanted to ask him but I di
dn’t even know where to start.

  “I—”

  “Did I—”

  We started at the same time.

  “You go,” he said, and suddenly my mouth was dry. Did I ruin your life? Would everything have been different—would you be happier—without me?

  But the questions I’d been dying to ask shriveled up at the earnest, open way he looked at me.

  I chewed my lip. “What have you been doing this whole time? I mean, besides keeping tabs on me?” Beating around the bush, that’s what my dad used to say. I’ll ask one question hoping you answer with what I really want to know.

  “After I lived with King’s family, I spent a couple years getting to know myself…tried to get you out of my head.”

  Oh.

  I looked to the floor.

  Suddenly his touch was at my chin, lifting my eyes with his free hand. “You were the little girl we saved. Do you know how fucked it is that I fell in love with you?”

  My breath rushed out of me, my heart stopped.

  Did he say love?

  “I love you,” he repeated like he knew my thoughts. “I’ve always loved you. I loved you even when it was wrong. I can’t stop loving you. And I’ve tried. Relentlessly.” He said the last bit more to himself.

  My brows caved. “But I ruined your life.”

  Flip smiled. Actually smiled.

  I tried to shove him off, but his grip tightened, thumb digging into my chin.

  “Ruin me. Ruin me over and over again, Tweetie. Because, goddamn, it feels good.” I tried to ignore the leap in my heart at his words and smooth, heady voice. How could he be smiling at a time like this?

  “You lost skateboarding,” I said. “You lost Patchwork. You lost everything.”

  An even bigger smile—real, too.

  Flip asked me if I was mad before, well, now I was starting to get angry. Cocky, arrogant Flip was back. The glow of knowledge I didn’t possess behind his grin.

  I ground my jaw, trying not to yank my face from between his fingers.

  “I didn’t lose everything.” Then he dropped his board with crash to the floor and kissed me. Kissed my gasping open mouth, not waiting for an invitation. Cradled my face, holding me hostage, using me as a vessel for his hunger and desperation and anguish.

  Cauterized my crumbling heart.

  He broke for a breath on a groan, lips still pressed to mine. “Tweetie, you are everything.”

  Melting, absolutely melting into him, when—

  BANG.

  The front door kicked open. Both Flip and I turned just in time to see King, Daniel, and Romeo run into the kitchen.

  “We’ve got—” King started.

  “Police!” echoed into the kitchen.

  “Yeah, that,” Romeo said.

  FLIP

  I rubbed my thumbs softly on Tweetie’s shoulder, needing some kind of connection as I turned to King.

  “Thought you took care of it,” I said. There was no bitterness or animosity in my voice. It had been ages since we’d had a run-in with the cops. It was how we’d met, the birth of Patchwork, and in a weird way, it felt like a rebirth.

  King grinned. “Consider it a swan song.” Daniel and Romeo shared the same look as King and I, excitement like fireflies in their eyes. We told the younger kids to get lost quick, as soon as the back door slammed shut after them, problem solved.

  “You thinking what I’m thinking?” I asked. I twisted the fabric at Tweetie’s shoulder, smooth beneath my thumb. There was still shit we needed to address, and she hadn’t said a thing after I told her I loved her, but seconds ago her lips had been on mine, her sighs hot on the roof of my mouth. Progress.

  A good guy would let Tweetie go. She didn’t say it. After the kiss, after everything, she didn’t say it.

  But Tweetie was a miracle. You don’t let miracles go.

  I’d slept in a bed for the first time in over a decade. Holding her through her nightmares, I didn’t think about mine.

  “Bait and switch?” Daniel suggested, and then we all looked to Romeo.

  “It’s really a bit on the nose how you always force the immigrant to be the bait.” But he flexed his knuckles and went to find the cops. The sound of broken glass, cops cursing, and Romeo laughing soon followed.

  Just another day at Patchwork.

  “Does bait and switch get you all out?” Tweetie piped up.

  “Uh…” Everyone exchanged looks. “Sure.” It gets one of us out, two if we’re lucky. King and I exchanged a look. We needed to get Tweetie ready, Romeo would only distract them for so long, and then it was time for the switch. He’d lead them to us, and once the cops saw the opportunity to nab three of us instead of one, they wouldn’t think to follow.

  Reading my mind, Daniel tossed her helmet to me. I slammed it on her head, King shoved the board under her arm, complete with the new deck. I’d been lucky, the shop didn’t carry that design anymore, but they’d had one left, in the very back.

  “But you’re all coming to my competition, right?” Tweetie asked, looking adorable with her eyes hidden under the helmet. We all paused. I removed my hands from the helmet. She shoved it up, looking at all of us. “Right?”

  Another crash, another curse, this time closer. She picked at the galaxy grip on her board, sparkly in the sun.

  Then it was like she was only looking at me, something weighing her blue eyes.

  “Nice board,” I said.

  Tweetie’s mouth parted on a breath, just as there was another loud crash, a curse, then Romeo appeared. A small piece of wood protruded from his arm, blood staining his shirt. He smiled as if everything was fine.

  He bowed to Tweetie, throwing his arm out lavishly. “Your chauffeur, my dear.”

  “There’s wood in your arm,” she said flatly.

  “I assure you I’m still a much better driver than at least two percent of the population,” he replied, still bent ninety degrees.

  “That wasn’t why—and that’s not a very high—” Romeo picked her up before she could finish, throwing her over his shoulder, shoving her board under his arm, heading for the back door.

  “Wait!” she yelled, and Romeo froze. Her eyes locked with mine again. A deep swallow of her throat, like something was stuck, something she really needed to say.

  Hope sprang thin and spindly, like the first spring blossom in my chest. I wondered if maybe she would say the thing I needed to hear from her. Three words that would clear all my doubts.

  Another crash and Romeo took off running.

  “Later, luv.”

  We sat shoulder to shoulder on our porch, arms behind our backs, in handcuffs. They didn’t have shit on us, but it wouldn’t stop them from keeping us in a forty-eight hour hold.

  “Brings back memories,” King said. He paused, then turned to me. “You’re staying for good now, right?”

  “Yeah, but,” I said, and King held still, waiting. “Everyone deserves a home. We’re revisiting the rules. This isn’t over.” I smiled, and he returned it.

  “Maybe when we aren’t in handcuffs?”

  “I think they’ve upgraded the hardware.” Daniel wriggled his wrists in the cuffs, which earned us a searing glare. We grinned.

  The cops were busy in their car, barely paying attention to us. I exhaled. I really didn’t want to miss Tweetie’s big day, and I’d been working on a surprise for her myself.

  “Think we can get out of here in time to beat Romeo?” I asked, and King and Daniel exchanged looks.

  Legally? No.

  “Sparky, Pants, and Bacon,” I whisper-yelled. They’d been spying on us from behind the porch. One by one, they lined up, soldiers reporting for duty.

  “Yes?” they asked.

  I pinned Sparky. “Time to put your nickname to use.” They shared a look, then dashed off. Sparky threw some leaves in the cop car and lit a fire. While the cops were distracted, Pants and Bacon snatched keys from the car, releasing us from our handcuffs.

  Daniel rubbed his wri
sts. King watched me, picking up I had a plan brewing.

  “What are you going to do?” he asked. I looked across Patchwork’s sprawling lawn, down the neighborhood, our story replaying as an old film.

  When King brought her burgers. When she stormed past me. When I dragged her back through Heaven’s Court. When we went street skating. Our first kiss.

  I’d kept waiting for the green light, but why? When the fuck had I ever done that? I was Corrupt. I was a Rebel God. So I was going to give one last all or nothing. One more mountain to move.

  I turned, meeting their eyes. “What I always do—the wrong thing.”

  Thirty-One

  Banger: an extremely difficult trick.

  TWEETIE

  I pressed my fingers to my lips, reliving my kiss with Flip for the thousandth time. Wrung my hands, nervous, but not because of the competition. We were in line to check in, but once again, all I could think about was him. The grounds were huge, bleachers packed with more people than I’d ever seen. This was the big time.

  “Is everyone going to be okay?” I asked Romeo. Is Flip going to be okay?

  “Just focus on your competition,” he said. The ramps were bigger than anything I’d ever skated on in my life. A patchwork of smooth, slick wood.

  Flip popped into my head.

  When you blush like that, it makes me wonder where else you’re blushing.

  So do it. Kiss me.

  I shook my head, clearing the image.

  I eyed Romeo in my periphery. “Should we get you a doctor?” He looked at the wood sticking from his arm absently like it was a bug that landed on his shoulder. Without a second’s thought, he ripped it out. Threw it on the ground.

  My mouth dropped.

  I don’t think I would ever get used to this.

  “Doctors are charlatans,” he said by way of explanation.

  The sun was wistful, a few early blooms clung to empty branches. Why couldn’t I just tell him? I love you. How hard is that to say?