"Of course, I'm sure. I don't give up easily!"
The rest of the crowd skated off towards the tennis courts.
"If you're really serious about skating, then you'll need to work on your ollies a little more." He nodded back to the curb where I'd first messed up. "Try it again. Then grind the edge of the sidewalk and shred back down the parking lot." He smiled crookedly. "When you get better at it, we'll work on some 180s and 360s."
"Woa, slow down!" I burst into giggles, despite my injuries. "Let's take first things first." At least I was beginning to learn the skaters' language: Cam had already told me that grinding and shredding meant skating fast and hard. I wasn't ready for that. Furthermore, I couldn't even begin to fathom doing aerials.
He tossed his board down on the pavement. "Here, watch me. That's the best way to learn."
While I adjusted my helmet back into place—Cam had insisted I wear one—he made a running start on his board and zigzagged up a stretch of the driveway. Rotating twice at the top, he swooped up a concrete rise near the courtyard fountain, landed upright, and zoomed down the pavement. As he passed the glinting picture windows of the auditorium, he shouted over his shoulder. "Here's where I check out my reflection! If my clothes don't look right, I call my valet...just teasing."
"Cam!" I clapped my hand over my mouth and giggled. "You're too much!"
"All right!" Pete yelled from where he and the other skaters were watching. "That's rad, Easton!" They skated back towards us.
"That was awesome, man!" Andy agreed.
"Let's go somewhere else," a guy by the name of Nick said. "We've skated this lot so many times, it's boring."
"Like where?" Cam asked, grinding to a halt. Sweat beaded his forehead.
Pete snapped his chewing gum. "How about the back of the old warehouse on Maple Street? Those loading ramps are perfect."
"Nah, we'll get kicked out of there in a minute," another guy answered.
Though I liked the skaters, I secretly wished they'd find somewhere else to go and leave Cam and me behind. I loved every moment we'd been alone, which hadn't been much so far. Yet I didn't dare tell him how I felt. What if he thought I was trying to own him, got cold feet, and took off?
"If only city council hadn't banned skating downtown," Andy said. "Ever since that kid—whoever he was—knocked over Claudia Morton's grandmother, we've been doomed."
Cam frowned in concentration. "I heard he was a dude from the junior high, right?"
"You got it," Pete answered. "But I doubt if it was as bad as everyone made it out to be."
I could tell already that Cam knew what the people of Preston thought about skaters.
"Maybe not," he said. "But it's up to us to make a difference. Sure, it's true skaters are sometimes radical. We've got our own music, our own clothes, our own way of talking. But the bottom line is: skateboarding is a challenge. It means testing the limits, being the best you can be. That's important stuff."
Andy made a face. "Get serious, Easton. You planning on running for student body president or something? Or maybe now that there's a girl hanging with us, you're pulling off the Mr. Impressive act."
A ripple of laughter rose up from the skaters.
"Hey, I am serious." Cam refused to be put off. "It's up to us to show the younger kids it's cool to be safe, it's cool to be polite and stop when you see a senior citizen."
Andy snorted. "A lot of good that does us now. City Hall's already got their minds made up."
I was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. Any minute now, I was sure, someone would point out that my dad was running for mayor. Somehow, I felt totally out-of-place.
A shout of anger sliced through my thoughts. I looked over to the entrance of the school, just beyond the fountain. Our school principal, head lowered like a bull charging a matador's red cape, was marching directly towards us.
Chapter Four
During the following couple of weeks, our problems got worse. Everywhere our little band of skaters went, we were told to leave. It didn't matter whether it was the steep rise of blacktop on the south side of town, the empty city swimming pool that had been closed for lack of funding, or the parking lot behind the mortuary. All the shop owners were afraid we'd either knock someone down again or end up hurting ourselves.
Then, of course, there were my parents. Sometimes they let me skate with Cam, sometimes they didn't. I guess it just depended on what kind of mood they were in.
At least there was one bright spot. My crash landings were actually happening farther apart, so I knew I was making progress. Still, I couldn't help wondering where I stood with Cam. Though we'd been seeing each other almost every afternoon after school, most of our time was spent with the skaters. Was I, to him, just another neighbor kid on his block? Sure, he'd said he liked me, but maybe he told that to all the girls.
By the end of the week at school, my nagging doubts skyrocketed. It all started during my lunch period when Mike Thompson and Rocky Sherman, star football players, sauntered into the cafeteria and sat down across from Megan and me. I'd only talked to them a few times before because they were usually busy trying to impress the cheerleaders.
As I explained to Megan how I'd finally managed to master the mini-ramp we'd set up in Pete's driveway, I could feel them staring at me. They wore designer jeans and trendy cotton shirts and smiled their typical phony smiles. I supposed they expected us to pass out from throes of heart-stopping passion, but of course, we didn't.
"Hello, ladies," Rocky broke into our conversation. "May we have the honor of sitting with you?"
"Suit yourself," I answered with a shrug. The spicy smells of burritos wafted from the kitchen.
"So if it isn't Miss Skateboarder U.S.A., "Mike said, his gaze leveling on me. "Run over any little old ladies yet?" I ignored his question, plus the sarcasm dripping from his voice.
"And if it isn't the football heroes of Preston High," I replied coolly. "Every girl's dream." My flip response didn't appear to faze them.
"Tell me something, Jessica," Mike said, loading a mound of catsup onto his cheeseburger. "Is Cam Easton the one responsible for your...er...new hobby?"
"New hobby!" I sputtered. "Listen here, Mike Thompson, skateboarding is more than a silly little hobby. A bunch more! You ought to try it sometime."
"Yeah, you ought to try it sometime," Rocky parroted in a falsetto voice, wiggling his eyebrows up and down. I wanted to hit him. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Megan squirming.
"So answer the question," Rocky prodded. "Does Easton have anything to do with it or not?"
"Of course he does." I stared into Rocky's flashing dark eyes.
"Why are you even asking?" Megan jumped to my defense. "It's none of your business!"
Mike leaned a little closer, looking first at Megan, then at me. "Because girls like you shouldn't be so naïve. Don't you see what Easton's up to?"
I could feel my heart pumping faster by the minute. "What are you talking about?"
Rocky drawled. "It's as plain as the nose on your face. Cam's a skater, right?"
"Of course he is! So what?" I heaved a sigh. "I swear, you're like all—"
"Hold on. I'm not knocking skateboarders.
"Then what are you doing?"
"I'm simply trying to get you to wake up." He paused, and I sensed he wanted to make me squirm. "Cam's lived all over, right? He's skated almost every place on the continent."
"Don't forget Hawaii," Megan put in.
"I'm so impressed," he said with a sneer. "But the bottom line is this, ladies—good old Easton comes to town and discovers there's no place he can skate without getting kicked around." He lowered his voice dramatically. "Then he plays up to the mayor's daughter, makes her think she's really something, so eventually he can get on the good side of her old man—"
"Wait!" By then my face was flaming. "I get it now! But you're wrong. Dead wrong!"
"Wanna bet?" Mike chimed in. "Rocky's never wrong."
"Well, he
is this time. For starters, my dad's not the mayor yet. And even if he were—"
"Oh, come off it, Williams," Rocky interrupted. "You know he's going to win. So why get hung up on a little technicality? The important thing is you can't afford to be so blind." Lunch trays rattled around us.
"Why don't you go pick on some silly little airhead cheerleader?" Megan stormed. "Leave Jessie alone."
My tuna and relish sandwich was sticking in my throat, and I felt as if someone had punched me in the stomach. "If you're saying that Cam's using me simply to get a skate park in Preston, you'd better think twice. He would never do a thing like that. He doesn't use people."
"Aw, love is so blind," intoned Rocky, holding his hand over his heart. He and Mike burst into laughter.
I stuffed my half-eaten sandwich back into my lunch sack. I couldn't take the humiliation any longer. Giving them an evil glare—the kind I usually reserved for only my sister—I jumped up from the table and flounced out the cafeteria door. In a flash, Megan had caught up to me.
"What's going on?" she asked as we almost ran head-first into our Phys-Ed teacher.
"It's simple." I turned down the corridor towards the rest rooms. "Cam's made a big impression at school. Lots of kids have watched him skate, and they know he's good."
"You mean they're jealous?"
"Exactly."
We scooted inside the john where I snapped on the spigot and splashed cold water over my flaming cheeks. "Next time those jerks give me any trouble, I'll really tell them!" I exclaimed. A senior who was putting on mascara darted me a curious glance.
"Maybe there won't be a next time," Megan said from inside one of the stalls. "You did a good job of putting them down."
"Thanks," I muttered. Yanking a paper towel out of the dispenser, I patted my face dry. My cheeks were still hot, my heart continued to pound. But worst of all, Mike and Rocky's words kept flashing little warning bells in the back of my mind.
* * *
Later that evening, as Cam and I walked hand-in-hand away from Pete's house, happiness washed over me. At last we were really alone. I'd been waiting for this moment forever. Fleecy moon-lit clouds blanketed the purple sky, and the acrid smells of burning leaves drifted on the chilly night air.
We passed our town's small college, its ivy-covered, brick buildings nestled on a campus peppered with towering evergreens. On the opposite side of the campus, cheers burst forth from the grandstands where the football team was challenging its top rival. The stadium spotlights glared against the velvety darkness.
"My parents think I'm going to enroll at Markfield someday," I said, nodding towards the campus. "They're already talking about how I can live at home and save bundles on room and board."
Cam looked down at me, his eyes shining. "But that little butterfly inside you has different ideas, doesn't it?"
"Uh-huh. If I don't go to college at least a zillion miles away from here, then I'll travel and see the world." I met his gaze, hesitating. "What are you going to do after high school?"
He scratched the side of his nose, then grinned. "What is this? The Spanish Inquisition or something?"
I pretended to pout, though I knew he was only teasing. "Oh, Cam, don't be impossible. I just want to know you better."
"Okay," he replied. "My plans for the future? Well, for starters, I hope to get sponsored and compete in the X games someday. That's my number one goal for now."
"You're talking about the action sports competition that's held in different places in the world, right?"
"Yep, that's it!"
"Cool! My family and I've watched the summer events on ESPN."
He nodded. "If I can become a pro, then I'll make enough money from skating to support myself. One thing I know for certain though. I don't want to climb the corporate ladder like my dad did. That's too boring—and too 'dog eat dog,' if you know what I mean."
"Maybe you'll start your own skateboard company someday too," I replied. "Then the only corporate ladder you'd have to climb would be your own."
He laughed. "Good point." Hunching his shoulders against the wind, he added, "Heck, maybe I'll build skate parks in African villages someday!
"Oh, Cam, you're too much. Seriously, though, you're a born leader. I like what you said about watching out for senior citizens and setting a good example for the younger skaters." I wondered whether he agreed that we had a lot in common. To me, it was growing more apparent all the time we both craved adventure and new places.
We rounded the corner and wandered down our street. I wasn't in any hurry. I knew our house would be packed with my parents' friends who'd volunteered to help with the campaign.
In some ways, I was glad for that because it took some of the pressure off Angie and me. Now that we were getting down to the wire as far as the Big Day was concerned, the next strategy was phone canvassing. My parents had called a special meeting to get it organized.
Two kids on bikes whipped past us, and I lunged to the right to avoid a near collision.
"Woa!" I exclaimed. "And they accuse skaters of being reckless. Why isn't everyone up-tight about the bicyclists the way they are about skaters?"
"I hear you."
We strode past a sign that said, "No skateboards or bicycles on sidewalks." Cam held my hand a little tighter. "Know something? We've got to figure out a way to get a skate park in Preston."
"Right, but how?"
"I'm not sure yet, but there's gotta be a way. When my family moved to California, the skate parks there were already built. But things are so much different in Preston."
"Maybe it wouldn't have to actually be a skate park," I said. "Maybe if we could just find a place where someone would let us build a half-pipe, then our problems would be over. It's great that we can use Pete's mini-ramp in his driveway, but that isn't enough. We need lots more room."
"Absolutely." He shifted his skateboard to the other side. "I'd like to build a half-pipe in my own backyard. But my dad says our place is too small. It's the same story for all the other skaters too. Either there just isn't enough room, or their parents aren't interested." I knew it'd be the laugh of the century to even think of asking my folks. Besides, Mom would never give up her rose garden that covered over half our backyard. Last year when Dad had wanted to build a swimming pool in its place, she'd nearly threatened divorce.
"I bet even if we could find a place to build it, "I said dolefully, "the lumber would cost a bundle."
He nodded, but said nothing.
As we passed by the old homes on our street, I took in his sexy profile, his carefree gait. Daydreaming about what it'd be like to kiss him, I got this funny warm feeling inside. The only guy I'd ever kissed before was Jerry Butler, the boy I'd dated off and on last year. Like most of the other guys in Preston, he was totally boring. His kisses were that way too.
As we ambled up the steps to my house, the sounds of talking and laughter grew louder. Someone had left the front door open. Mom must've decided the house was getting too stuffy with all those people inside. At least no one had come out onto the porch for a breath of fresh air. Then, too, Angie was sleeping over at Priscilla McCumber's house, so I'd really lucked out. Maybe I could have Cam to myself a little longer.
"Can you stay for a while?" I asked. "It's kind of crowded inside, so maybe we can just hang out here." I pointed at the green canvas lawn-swing where I sometimes sat on warm fall evenings, listening to the crickets chirping and just thinking things over.
"Sure," he answered. "But maybe it'd be better if we went inside and offered to help."
My stomach dropped. "Uh...well, that wasn't exactly what I had in mind." I couldn't believe Cam actually wanted to get involved.
"Jessie, dear, is that you?" My mom's voice sounded from the dining room. "Who are you talking to?"
"Yes, I'm home!" I called back airily, but inside my hopes quickly faded. "Cam's here too."
Before I could add that we intended to stay out of everyone's way, Dad emerged with a big gri
n on his face. Looking more relaxed than I'd seen him in ages, he wore his favorite fawn-colored sports coat. His salt-and-pepper hair was perfectly groomed.
"Hello, Cam." Dad shook his hand. "Nice to see you again. How're your folks adjusting to the new neighborhood?"
"Just fine, thank you. My mom, especially, really likes it here."
I looked away and rolled my eyes. Cam was talking about his mother, I reminded myself. Maybe she enjoyed a dull little town like ours after moving around so much.
"I hear you've been real busy with your campaign, sir," Cam continued.
"Ah yes, but it's been worth every minute. My committee's terrific. Hard workers, every one of them." Dad rocked back on his heels and eyed Cam appraisingly. I could tell he was impressed. Maybe this would be a positive turning point for us.
"Tuesday's the day, you know," he added with a half smile. "Be sure to remind your folks to get out and vote."
"Oh, I will!" Cam replied eagerly. "And about your campaign. Do you need any more help? Jessica and I'd be glad to pitch in."
A sinking sensation overcame me. Why was he still so eager? Unexpectedly the lunchroom scene at school flashed by me, and I fought back panic. Was my whole life flashing by me too?
Dad darted a look at our skateboards, raised his brow, then grinned. "That's great of you to offer, son. As a matter of face, we do have some loose ends to tie up. Why don't you kids come inside and join us right now?"
Before I could nudge Cam's side and send him a pleading look, Dad lowered his voice and added, "One request, please. Just leave your skateboards outside."
Chapter Five
"Don't answer it, Angie. I think that call's for me!" As I dashed to the landline phone in the kitchen, I caught my sister mumbling something and smiling into the receiver. I'd been waiting for Cam to call my cell phone all afternoon, but he hadn't. Maybe he was hoping Dad would be the one to answer, and they could chat for a while.
"Sorry, Jessie can't talk to you now," she chirped. Now I could hear her all too well.
Skateboard Blues Page 3
