by Claire Adams
I missed one trick, but even without that, I can’t see Mike Onomato beating that score. The question’s going to be whether the average is going to be enough, and Ian’s got the whole field to skate before we’ll know if he’s won.
Ian’s score comes up and he takes the lead, but Mike Onomato is still right on his heels. There are a couple of other guys that might be a threat if they start pulling out 900s, but short of that, I think Ian’s only real competition is the man rolling in right now.
I hardly believe it when it happens, but it happens nonetheless: As Mike’s coming to the bottom of the drop-in, his board wavers beneath him and, finally going sideways entirely, Mike Onomato comes off the board.
There’s still the rest of the field to skate, but nobody’s a credible threat to Ian anymore and he knows it.
He climbs down the side of the ramp and I push my way through the crowd to meet him, though as I’m coming close, people crowd in around him.
Ian’s not having any of that, though, and he makes his way through to me.
“You did it!” I exclaim, putting my arms around him and kissing him on the lips. “Where did you learn to do all of that in the last two days?”
He throws his head back, laughing. “I didn’t,” he says. “I’ve done all that stuff in the park, just never on a full vert ramp. Once I got comfortable dropping in, the rest got a lot easier.”
“I’m just so proud of you,” I tell him.
“It’s not over yet,” he says, and he puts an arm around me as we watch the rest of the field take their turns, but nobody comes up to Ian’s score.
I’m beyond ecstatic; I can only imagine what Ian must be feeling right now.
It feels so weird that it’s already over, but that’s it. Ian’s got his sponsorship.
At least, that’s what we think.
The woman comes over the loudspeaker, and I pull Ian close as we wait for her to announce him as the winner, but she doesn’t.
“That was just a spectacular round on the vert ramp, ladies and gentlemen. Next up on the vert ramp, we’ve got the best trick competition,” the woman says and my blood turns cold.
“I forgot about best trick,” I tell Ian. “Tell me you’ve got something prepared.”
He doesn’t answer.
“It doesn’t matter,” I tell him. “You’re doing great out there. Just throw something down.”
“Yeah,” he says blankly.
“I mean, you get three tries, right?” I ask. “You just need one of them to—”
“One,” he says before kissing me on the forehead and heading back toward the ramp.
One?
Ian’s going to be the first to go, but the organizers are taking their sweet time calling a start to the trick competition.
I turn around and look for Rob. He’s back about where I was standing before I came forward to meet Ian, and I make my way back to Rob.
“What’s he going to do?” I ask.
“I totally forgot about the one-trick competition,” Rob says. “All I’ve been going over with him is vert shit.”
On his last two runs, Ian pulled at least a few tricks that would bring him a high score, but he can’t use any of them. He’s already done them in competition today and they always take off points for repeats.
There’s no timer this time.
Ian drops in successfully, so there’s a big chunk of worry out of the way, but he doesn’t look too confident coming up to the other side of the ramp.
Ian uses his launch to get more speed, and he comes back fast. One more speed/height launch and this next one is going to be it, whatever “it” is going to be.
He’s got great momentum coming to the jump and his wheels leave the ramp and he’s doing… I don’t know what he’s doing.
As soon as he’s airborne, Ian’s spinning and going for what looks like the beginnings of a nuclear grab, but the board comes away from his feet before his hand can replace it.
Although he’s in full spin, he manages to snatch his board out of the air, his back hand on his front truck and the spin slows drastically as he brings the board back to his feet, completing his second full rotation.
Now, all he has to do is land.
So much happens in the time it takes Ian to go that last couple of feet before he reaches the ramp.
His wheels come down hard on the downslope of the vert ramp and his knees bend as he goes from the vertical slope to the horizontal flat, clean.
This time, covering my ears doesn’t make the slightest perceptible difference.
Epilogue Pt. 1
Ian
I called it the Mia grab.
To be perfectly frank, I hadn’t planned on making up a trick that day, but that’s what ended up winning me the gold and a nice, shiny new sponsorship.
That said, things haven’t been all smooth sailing.
A lot of my time’s been spent on the road doing demos and competitions. Earlier this month, I qualified for my first X Games, and yes, I’m competing in vert.
The Mia grab has become a part of my personal legend, but what’s both great and terrible about that is that neither me, nor anyone else, knows exactly what I did. If nothing else, I guess that means I can just come up with something new and call that the Mia flip, but I’m getting off topic.
It’s been a year.
One year, and Mia and I are still together.
I didn’t end up staying with Rob too much longer, though he does usually end up crashing on one of the couches in my new house.
The most important thing that happened after I fell into the pro scene is that I’ve been able to take over the full-time care of mom. Dad, on the other hand, is gone.
I don’t know what triggered it, but one morning, I got a phone call from him, and when I answered, his only words to me were, “Take care of your mother and take care of yourself. Hopefully, one day you’ll grow out of this skateboarding business.”
And that was it. After that, he just left.
It’s been about six months, and it’s sad, but the only positive thing about mom’s condition is that most of the time, she doesn’t know that dad left her. I just hate it when she remembers.
Mia’s on her way toward graduating with highest honors, though her final semester does have that algebra course she’s been putting off forever, so those honors may or may not still be there when she’s done.
Right now, I’m at the old skate park with Mia, perched atop the vert wall.
After we got home from the competition—and after having sex many, many times—Mia decided to fill me in on her little secret: She’s been practicing her board skills for the past four years, she was always just too shy to come out of the garage with it.
Now, though, all that’s about to change.
“I don’t know,” she says. “I think they’ve built this thing up since the last time we were here.”
“We were here yesterday,” I tell her.
“I didn’t say whoever did this weren’t skilled workers,” she answers.
“Shh,” I tell her. “Just relax and close your eyes. Now,” I say, “tell me what you see.”
Epilogue Pt. 2
Mia
I can feel the warm breeze running over my skin as Ian asks me a second time to tell him what I see.
“I see,” I start, “me. I’m rolling down the ramp and out clean.”
“Good,” he says. “Now, open your eyes.”
I’m not quite ready, so I leave my eyes shut a few more seconds as I try to mentally work through this.
Ian’s taken me to the park as often as possible ever since he found out that I’ve been hiding my own skating progress, but the biggest thing I’ve dropped into was a halfpipe and Ian was right: that’s a whole other thing.
“Mia?” he asks, kissing my forehead.
“Yeah?” I answer, finally opening my eyes.
“You don’t have to do this if you’re not ready,” he says. “I don’t want to pressure you into doing t
his.”
“Well,” I tell him, “if I’m going to be your arm candy when you’re traveling across the globe, the least I can do is know how to bring it on four wheels.”
He grins his white-toothed grin, saying, “After we do this, we’re going to head back home and work on your trash talk. You, my dear, have a very long way to go.”
“Whatever,” I tell him. “Any final pointers before I break my neck?”
“I think between here, home, and the last year or so, we’ve pretty much covered all the finer points,” he says. “What I will tell you is that it’ll go so much easier if you’re relaxed and loose when you drop in. Otherwise, well…”
“Yeah,” I mutter and take another look down at the concrete, seemingly so far below.
Ours isn’t a perfect situation, but we’re making it work.
“Will you hurry up? I’ve got things to do!” Abby shouts from the concrete below.
Going after Ian the way she did almost ruined our friendship. It would have ruined our friendship if she’d persisted, but even that quick kiss did its fair share of damage.
Now that I’m living with Ian, though, being vindictive toward someone who was once so close to me just didn’t seem like the thing to do. Of course, I didn’t let her off completely free of punishment.
“You’re on the clock!” I shout down to her.
“Well,” she calls back up, “I think the kid’s diaper’s wet, so I’m going to go get him changed in the car.”
Every new parent should have a free babysitter.
Yep, that’s right. That day in the janitor’s closet when I forgot to grab my purse, and with it, my condoms, was the day that I became pregnant.
That was an uncomfortable conversation with dad.
He’s really started to come around ever since I moved in with Ian, though, my dad. Telling him that that guy he was so worried about knocked me up didn’t go over so well.
Now, though, when Abby has to work or, more commonly, when I just get sick of having her around, I send her home and call my dad. It’s been a long road, but I think we’re starting to make progress.
“You ready?” Ian asks.
“I don’t know,” I tell him. “Just go over it for me one more time, start to finish.”
Ian runs through it all with me, answering the few questions I have left: He really has been working with me a lot since I “came out of the garage,” as he likes to call it.
“Okay,” I tell him finally, and I roll my board to the lip until only the tail between my foot and the edge is keeping the board in place. “I’m ready.”
We’re not rich, but we’re comfortable. What’s more, we’re happy.
That day of the Midwest Championships, I realized quite possibly the most important thing about my relationship, not only with Ian, but with others as well: Ian was right. It was fear.
I didn’t believe him until I figured out what he was trying to say to me.
“The point is that I love you.”
“You’ve got this,” Ian tells me, echoing my own words from a year ago.
There’s no telling what’s going to happen in the future, but Ian, Emma, and I have got a firm foundation with each other, a beautiful life.
Right now, there’s only one thing left to do.
I put my front foot on the board, and I lean in.
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 Claire Adams
