Snowboard Champ

by Matt Christopher

  The kids all mobbed Riley, who accepted their congratulations with hugs and backslaps and high-fives.

  “You were robbed,” Melissa told Matt, who stood there stony-faced. “Courtney, let me see that scorecard.”

  “What, don’t you trust me?” Courtney asked, handing it over. “You think I’d cheat?”

  “Oh, what’s the point?” Melissa said, handing it back without even checking it. “This was so fixed, it’s ridiculous.” She gave Riley a hard look. “And everybody at school’s going to know it, too.”

  “What?” Riley said, his brows furrowing. “What do you mean by that?”

  “Nothing,” she said. “Come on, Matt. Let’s go have some fun for a change.”

  Matt followed her, barely waving goodbye to the others.

  He had just been given a graphic illustration of how things worked around here. This was Riley Hammett’s world, and there was no place in it for him. No place, that is, except at the very bottom of the pile.

  7

  Hey, hey!” Spengler greeted him on the bus Monday morning. “I hear you’re the new snowboard king!” He gave Matt an elaborate handshake with his good arm.

  Matt snorted. “Where’d you hear that?”

  “It’s all over town,” Spengler said. “The phones have been busy all night. It’s not every day someone out-boards Riley Hammett.”

  “He won, or didn’t they tell you that?” Matt asked. “He did? That’s not the way I heard it.”

  “Yeah, well, trust me. I was there,” Matt said.

  “I heard you made him look silly,” Spengler insisted. What is it with this town? Matt wondered. Didn’t these kids have anything better to do than to talk about him? He guessed that most of them were bored a lot of the time, and that a new kid from the big city seemed interesting and mysterious. But still, he was just a kid like the rest of them. Why did they have to make such a big deal about him?

  Matt decided to change the subject. “Hey, Spengler,” he said, “how come everyone’s always talking trash about you?”

  “You mean like, what did I do to deserve it?” Spengler asked.

  “No. Well, yeah,” Matt said.

  Spengler frowned. “I used to be popular, kind of,” he said. “Back in sixth grade. But you know, stuff happens . . . .” He fell silent, and Matt could see a great sadness in his eyes.

  He was sorry now that he’d pressed Spengler so hard. He hated bumming people out. There was already too much misery in the world. “Hey, man, forget it,” he said. “How’s the arm doing?”

  “It itches,” Spengler complained, but Matt could see the dark cloud lift from his mood. “When the cast comes off, the first thing I’m gonna do is scratch my arm till it bleeds.”

  “Eeeuw!” Matt said, reacting with a wince. He was glad when the bus pulled up in front of the school. He liked Spengler, but the other kids were right about one thing — he was weird. The things he said were never what you’d expect.

  In fact, the day was full of unexpected occurrences. Perkins greeted him in the hallway with a big high-five and asked him if he wanted to work on the school newspaper. “All the cool kids are on the staff,” he said.

  “Uh, no thanks,” Matt replied. “Newspaper reporting really isn’t my thing.” He wasn’t wild about working after school hours, but more to the point, he wondered what Perkins was thinking. Since Matt had started school, Perkins hadn’t said two words to him. Now, all of the sudden, he was his best buddy.

  Then in homeroom, Melissa passed him a note that read, “Meet me outside the front doors after lunch period. I have to talk to you.”

  He stuffed the note in his pocket and tried to concentrate on schoolwork the rest of the morning. At lunch, he didn’t see Melissa, but Riley and his friends were in their usual seats. They all gave Matt hostile glances, leading Matt to wonder how they’d be acting toward him if he’d been pronounced the winner of the contest. He could only imagine.

  He hunkered down at a table by himself and picked up his fork. But he could only eat a few bites. His stomach was in knots, and he couldn’t help wondering what Melissa wanted to talk to him about. Halfway through the period, he went out into the deserted hallway and, when no one was around, sneaked outside.

  It was a warm day for January, but Matt didn’t have his jacket, and the cold air cut right through the thin fabric of his shirt. Why had she insisted on meeting him outside? And where was she, anyway?

  He was already shivering. He wished he’d stopped at his locker to grab his coat first. He tried the door, but it was locked from the inside! Great. He’d have to go all the way around to the front and hope no one saw him coming back in. Being outside during school was strictly against the rules, he knew.

  The door opened suddenly, and Matt felt a wave of relief come over him. But it wasn’t Melissa. It was Spengler. “Hey, mon!” he greeted Matt. “Wuzzup? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

  “I thought you were someone else,” Matt confessed. “I was supposed to meet her out here.”

  “Her?”

  “Melissa McCarthney.”

  “Oh, man! She’s a babe. You two going out?”

  “Not really. She wanted to tell me something, that’s all.”

  “Man, she went home after second period.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, she had a fever or something. She went to the nurse’s office, and they sent her home.” He laughed. “That stinks for you.”

  “Yeah.” Matt was really shivering now. “What are you doing out here?” he asked.

  “I needed a mental-health break,” Spengler said, sitting on the top step and fishing in his backpack for something. “Ah, here we go.” To Matt’s astonishment, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “Want one?”

  “No way,” Matt said, waving him off. “That stuff’ll kill you.”

  “Yeah. well, we’re all gonna die someday,” Spengler said, trying to take a cigarette out of the pack with his one good hand. “Hey, help me out here, would you?”

  Matt felt guilty helping Spengler damage his health, but he didn’t want to make an issue of it. With shivering hands, he took the pack from him and removed a cigarette.

  Spengler had fished a lighter out of his pocket in the meantime. “Here, would you light me up?”

  “No, dude,” Matt said. “I’m not gonna be a part of you messing up your health.” He stuck the pack back in Spengler’s book bag. A bunch of quarters and dimes spilled out, and Matt started picking them up and stuffing them back in. Then he handed Spengler the cigarette. “You ought to quit, man.”

  “I’ve tried,” Spengler said. “But it’s really hard to. Stay away from tobacco, man, I’m telling you.”

  Matt didn’t need to be told. He watched, wincing as Spengler lit up. Then his gaze turned to the window behind them, and he froze.

  There was Abby, her eyes wide with shock and surprise — and something else, too. She looked distinctly happy. Like a cat that had just spotted a wounded bird.

  Matt knew right away there would be trouble. But he could never have guessed how much.

  No one saw Matt and Spengler sneak back into the school building. But it seemed like everybody instantly knew Matt had been out there. Kids were whispering about him again. And the compliments and friendliness had stopped. Not one other kid talked to him all afternoon, but he knew everyone was talking about him.

  When he got home, he called Melissa, but her mother picked up. She said Melissa had a fever and was sleeping. Matt did his homework, watched TV, and waited for Uncle Clayton to come home from work.

  Clay was late today. Maybe he had a big meeting or something. Matt decided to amuse himself by going on the Web and looking for local chat rooms. He found one called Dragontalk. Sure enough, it was a site for kids in the area to talk about whatever was new and exciting.

  His name was all over it. “I saw Matt Harper outside school today, smoking with Spengler,” said Chikadee23. Matt knew that had to be Abby.

  “Word!?!?
!?” said Ugogirl.

  “I hear he does drugs,” said Perkomeister. Perkins, Matt guessed. His “good buddy” from this morning.

  “Did you know Harper’s mother is doing time in prison for drug dealing?” said TopDog90.

  “No lie?” Perkomeister replied.

  Matt stared at the screen in disbelief. He wanted to write a reply of his own, but he knew it would be no use. They’d know it was him, and they’d never believe him anyway.

  “Yeah, she’s in for twenty years!” TopDog90 wrote. “That’s why he’s living with his uncle. I also heard he got kicked out of school in Chicago for gang stuff.”

  “Gang stuff?” Ugogirl wrote. “What did he do?”

  “I didn’t do anything!” Matt said out loud. “I was never in a gang! I never even knew anybody in a gang! And my mom’s working for the government, you dweebs!”

  But he didn’t type anything. He continued to eavesdrop on the conservation.

  Chikadee23: “I think he was selling something to Spengler. There was money all over the place.”

  TopDog90: “He’s definitely trouble.”

  Perkomeister: “In trouble, you mean.”

  Ugogirl: “And he dresses like a gangsta.” TopDog90: “He is a gangsta.”

  Perkomeister: “Somebody better warn Spengler.”

  Chikadee23: “Somebody better warn Melissa.”

  Matt slammed his fist down on the desk so hard it hurt. Then he put his fingers on the keys and, throwing caution to the wind, typed, “Where’d you guys hear all this about Harper?”

  “Who’s here?” TopDog90 wrote. “Who’s Clay-builder?”

  Matt didn’t write back.

  “Where did you hear it?” Perkomeister wrote.

  “Not at liberty to say,” TopDog90 wrote back. “Strictly confidential, but definitely a reliable source.”

  “Yeah,” Matt said under his breath. “Your own imagination, Riley.”

  He was still frowning at the screen when the phone rang.

  Uncle Clayton appeared in his room, holding the receiver. “It’s for you.”

  Now what?

  “Who is it?” Matt asked.

  “I don’t know, but she sounds pretty,” Clay said with a twinkle in his eye.

  Matt took the phone. “Hello?”

  “Hi, it’s me. Melissa.”

  “Oh, hi. How’re you feeling?”

  “Better, thanks. Sorry I didn’t stay around to meet you.”

  “I wish you had,” Matt said. “I think I got myself in trouble.”

  “What happened?”

  “Nothing happened,” he insisted. “But I might be in trouble anyway. People are saying I was smoking at school.”

  “But you didn’t?”

  “No. I swear. I don’t even smoke!” He sighed. “I just hope they don’t call me into the principal’s office.”

  “If they do, just tell the truth,” she advised him. “You’ve never been in any trouble before, right? I’m sure they’ll believe you.”

  “Yeah. I guess so.”

  But he had been in trouble before. And his school records would show it. They would tell how, in sixth grade, he’d forged an excuse note, stayed out of school, and gone to see his dad in a futile attempt to get him to come back home.

  They would tell, too, about the fight he’d had last year with that racist kid who’d been picking on his Pakistani friend Ameer. The kid had been bigger than Matt, but he’d fought him anyway, and although he got a bloody nose and a black eye for his trouble, Matt wasn’t sorry about it.

  It was terrible, he thought, how even little mistakes could count against you the next time you messed up. And what had he done, really? Just given Spengler one

  of his own cigarettes. That was bad enough, but somehow, it had gotten blown out of all proportion.

  Maybe the school would let me off the hook this time, he thought hopefully. But probably not.

  He said good-bye, sighed, and hung up the phone.

  “Everything all right?” Clay asked, concerned.

  “Yeah,” Matt said glumly. “Everything’s peachy.”

  “Come on,” Clay said. “Who do you think you’re talking to?”

  “Sorry,” Matt said sincerely. “It’s just . . . school problems.”

  “Wanna talk about it?”

  “Not right now. Maybe tomorrow.” There’d be time enough to talk about it then, Matt figured. If he got reported to the principal. If he didn’t, there was no point in telling Uncle Clayton about it.

  Or was there?

  Why, oh, why, did his mom have to go away?

  Matt went up to bed early, feeling sorrier for himself than he’d ever felt in his life.

  8

  The next day at school, most kids seemed to give him a wide berth. Even Melissa eyed him warily.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked her in the hallway after homeroom.

  “You lied to me last night.”

  “I did not! I swear, I didn’t smoke!”

  “You were seen, Matt. Caught red-handed.”

  “By who? By Abby?”

  Melissa didn’t answer.

  “She’s lying,” he insisted. “Or maybe she just thought she saw me smoking.”

  “Huh?” Melissa looked extremely skeptical.

  “Spengler asked me to fish a cigarette out of his backpack for him,” Matt explained. “You know, his cast and all? And then he asked me to light it for him.”

  Melissa seemed to consider this. “You’d better not be lying to me.”

  “I’m not!”

  She shook her head slowly, looking disappointed in him. “Whatever,” she said. “If you say so. Look, I’ve gotta go to class.”

  “See you later, okay?” he asked.

  She had already started down the hallway, but he saw her shrug without turning. Maybe she would and maybe she wouldn’t, the shrug seemed to say. But one thing was for sure — she didn’t really believe him, even after he’d told her the whole story. Which meant that Abby must have been a very convincing “eyewitness.”

  Great.

  Things got worse quickly. In the middle of first period, he was called down to the principal’s office. When he opened the door, Spengler was already sitting there, staring miserably into space. He looked up at Matt and gave him a weak smile. “Looks like we got ourselves into some trouble,” he said.

  “We?” Matt replied.

  He would have said more, but the principal came in at that moment. He sat down, stared across his desk at them, and began talking.

  “As I’m sure you know, Mr. Spengler, this school has a zero-tolerance policy regarding smoking on school grounds.”

  Spengler nodded and stared at the floor between his feet.

  “Mr. Harper, you’re new here, I recognize that, and perhaps you aren’t acquainted with some of the school’s lesser-known rules. The no-smoking rule is three strikes and you’re out. Mr. Spengler,” he said, turning away from Matt, “this is your second offense. One more, and you’re suspended for three days. I hope it’s the last time I see you here for this offense.”

  “Oh, it will be, Mr. Koppel,” Spengler assured him in an innocent tone Matt had never heard him use before.

  “I’m going to bend the rules for you, Mr. Harper, because you’re new here. I’ll let you off the hook this time.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Koppel,” Matt said, feeling a wave of relief flood over him. He wanted to say it wouldn’t happen again, but the fact was, it hadn’t even happened this time! Of course, if he said that — if he protested his innocence — he might bring down a harsher punishment. So he decided to just go with the flow. What had Uncle Clayton said? “You have to go along to get along.”

  “But next time, you will be suspended, understood?”

  “Understood,” Matt said.

  “Good.” The principal got up. “You may go back to your classes, gentlemen.”

  As Spengler stood, he gave Matt a little nod and mouthed the words, Only one more and I’m f
ree!

  He’d actually be happy to get a three-day suspension, Matt realized with a start.

  Matt would definitely not have been happy. He’d been suspended after the fight back in Chicago, and he knew that a suspension was more than a free vacation. It went down on your record and followed you all through your school life. You were marked as a “bad kid” and watched over like a hawk. Matt wondered if Principal Koppel had access to his old school records. Probably. But had he even looked through them? Probably not. Lucky for Matt, too.

  “Oh, Mr. Harper,” the principal said, stopping him as he was about to leave.

  “Yes?”

  “You do understand, of course, that we’ll have to call home to notify your family about this incident.”

  “What?” A sudden surge of alarm rose through Matt’s body.

  “That’s a school policy I can’t bend on, I’m afraid.” The principal sat back down at his desk. “You may go now.”

  Matt left and headed for his second period class. Uncle Clayton would understand, he knew. He’d definitely believe Matt hadn’t been smoking. But would he tell Matt’s mom next time she called? That would be really terrible.

  Lunchtime was so bad that he felt like bagging it altogether, going without food and spending the period in the library, where he wouldn’t have to talk to anyone. But he was hungry, and he’d never been good at fasting. So he took a deep breath and entered the cafeteria.

  The loud noise of dozens of conversations suddenly dropped to murmurs. This time, not just Riley’s table but all the tables were focused on nothing but him. He got in the food line and ignored the questions from the curious kids surrounding him, most of whom were sixth and seventh graders.

  “Were you really in juvie?”

  “What was it like?”

  “What kinds of drugs was your mom dealing?”

  “What gang were you in?”

  Finally, Matt couldn’t take it anymore. “SHUT UP!” he exploded. “Just — just shut up, all of you! Okay?”

  They did, but that just made him feel worse. After all, these were just a bunch of curious kids. They didn’t have anything against him, really, and he could tell he had really scared them.