Brett shot up from his seat. “Don’t tell me it’s a shame. You wanted this to happen. You couldn’t wait to ruin it for me, could you?” With that, Brett raced up the stairs to his room, where he flung himself on his bed.
Brett couldn’t bring himself to face The Lizard for the rest of the day, and he spent hours on end in front of the television, not paying much attention to what flickered on the screen. He tried not to think about anything, but every once in a while another wave of disappointment would wash over him, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.
Fortunately his parents had to go out that night, so Brett didn’t have to face anyone but Shannon at the dinner table. The dark looks he gave her when she tried to engage him in conversation convinced her to leave him alone. She went up to her room to practice her sax, while he plunked himself down in front of the TV again.
Around eight o’clock, the phone rang, bringing Brett out of his stupor.
“Ummm, hello?”
“Brett?”
“Yes. Who’s this?”
“It’s Johnee. What’s up? Why weren’t you at Mrs. Weatherspoon’s today?”
“I don’t know,” Brett said. “I guess I just needed a day off.”
Johnee chuckled. “You?” Then his voice grew serious again. “We thought you might be upset, you know, about the contest.”
Brett was quiet for a moment. “I’m okay.”
“Can you come out now?”
“I’m kinda tired. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Okay, man.” Johnee sounded disappointed. “You sure you’re okay? We don’t need any dumb contest to have fun.”
Brett wanted to say, Maybe you don’t need the contest, but I do. Instead he said, “Yeah. See you.”
When he hung up the receiver, he felt more depressed — and alone—than ever.
12
Brett didn’t see his parents again until the next day, when they called him into the living room. Both of them looked very stern, and he felt a lump of dread grow in his stomach. He figured he was going to get it for yelling at his mom, something he now regretted. Still, he couldn’t help feeling that they — at least she — didn’t understand him at all.
Mr. Thyson started it off. “Brett, we want to talk to you, and we’d like you to hear us out before you say anything. Okay?”
Brett nodded, thinking that he already knew what they were going to say.
“I understand that there was going to be a skateboarding contest” — he made a vague gesture in the direction of Mrs. Weatherspoon’s house — “and you accused your mother of sabotaging it somehow.”
Brett didn’t answer. He didn’t dare to.
“Well, you’re wrong. Dead wrong.”
“Do you know where we were last night?” he went on, and again Brett didn’t bother to reply. “We were at a town council meeting.”
Brett wondered what this had to do with him.
Mr. Thyson looked at his wife. “Actually, we didn’t go together. Your mother surprised me by showing up.” He turned to Brett. “She surprised me even more when she brought up the subject of this contest.”
Brett stared at his mother, openmouthed. This time she really had gone out of her way to ruin things for him. Why?
“She convinced the council to put up funds for the contest so that Mrs. Weatherspoon wouldn’t have to foot the bill herself,” Mr. Thyson stated matter-of-factly.
Brett was confused for a minute. “You mean, the contest is on?”
Mrs. Thyson nodded. “That’s right, Brett. The town is going to sponsor it and provide year-round insurance coverage as well. Mrs. Weatherspoon won’t have to worry about being sued in case of an accident.”
Brett couldn’t believe his ears. “But, Mom, I thought you were against —”
“I was against the idea of Mrs. Weatherspoon having to hold the contest, not against the contest itself,” she explained. “I think this town should do something — she’s done quite enough on her own.”
Brett couldn’t agree more. Still, he couldn’t understand the apparent change in his mother. “But you hate skateboarding.”
Mrs. Thyson reached for his hand. “I don’t hate skateboarding. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.” She smiled warmly. “The other day you said I don’t care about you. That’s not true at all. If anything, I care too much. I guess that’s my problem.”
“I’m sorry, Mom,” Brett blurted, giving her a hug.
“That’s the other thing we wanted to talk to you about,” his father interjected, “your recent behavior toward your mother.” He glared at Brett, who froze.
“I don’t want to hear that kind of talk around here again,” Mr. Thyson said.
Brett waited to hear the rest, but it seemed his father had finished.
“You won’t, I promise,” he said contritely. “I’m sorry, Mom,” he repeated.
“Well,” she said, getting up from the couch, “you’d better start practicing. You only have a few days.”
Brett let out a whoop of joy and hugged her again. “Don’t worry, Mom. I’m ready!”
The day of the contest started out comfortably enough, but by noon it was a ninety- two-degree scorcher.
Inside the arena Brett saw several kids he knew, and others he didn’t know. Kyle and Johnee were there, naturally. They were sitting on the same picnic table bench, but on opposite ends. Which was no surprise. Johnee had as much love for Kyle as Brett did.
The town had done a terrific job arranging the contest. They had even hired a man to announce the events. W.E.’s knowledge of skateboarding had earned him a seat right next to the announcer, and Brett knew W.E. was as excited about the event as the actual contestants.
There weren’t too many skaters, and only about a dozen spectators, who stood along the fence behind the skaters benches. But it didn’t matter to Brett. All he cared about was the chance to compete officially with Kyle. It was hard to believe that the day had actually arrived!
After a few introductory remarks, the first contestant in the Beginners Division was announced.
“Mickey Roper!”
Several people applauded as a boy about nine, wearing knee and elbow protectors and gloves, got up from a bench on which other contestants about his size were sitting, and put on a helmet. He stepped onto his green skateboard and pushed off in a wide circle around the smooth, blacktopped arena.
Brett watched him closely, realizing within seconds that the kid couldn’t have been skating more than a couple of weeks. He skated forward rapidly, then shifted his weight to his front foot and lifted the tail of the skateboard into the air, almost losing his balance as he did so. It was an easy maneuver (one of the first Brett had learned, too), but he could see that the boy had a while to go before he’d get that one down pat.
“That’s a G-turn,” the announcer explained.
Mickey did a few other tricks, including a Rail Slide — skating parallel to the curb, then lifting the curbside wheels up onto the curb with both trucks resting and sliding on its edge. He lost his balance performing this one and almost took a spill.
Righting himself, he did a Nose Wheelie, skating forward with the tail of his skateboard in the air. Then he skated up a ramp, lifting the front truck over the edge for the start of a Rock ‘n’ Roll. Balancing himself on the top of the ramp, he rocked back and forth, then leaped off and finished with a Foot Plant, in which he skated up to an empty bench, crouched down to grab the tail of his board, then jumped up on the bench with the board still under his feet. For a moment he made it, then he lost his balance — and his skateboard, which rolled off into the crowd. A whistle blew, announcing that his time was up.
He jumped off the bench and sat down, shaking his head disgustedly. But a resounding cheer rose from the crowd anyway. Brett applauded, too. In spite of his few mistakes, the kid had done okay.
Another name was announced, and an- other young boy from the same bench got up and performed. And then two girls took their turns.
&nbs
p; It was during the fourth contestant’s performance — an excellent one — that a familiar voice piped up behind Brett.
“She should’ve been in the Advanced Division,” W.E. said. “She did that Rail Slide like an expert. And she had no problem with the Kick Turn and the Ollie. What do you think, Brett?”
Brett heard the whirring sound of an advancing film, and looked at him. W.E. was snapping pictures.
“I think you’re right,” he agreed. “But what are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be sitting with the announcer.”
“Oh, he doesn’t need me. Besides, this is where the action is,” W.E. replied as he took another shot.
Three other kids were called up to participate in the event, all of whom performed pretty much the same tricks. Brett was amazed at their abilities. He couldn’t have done as well when he was their age. But that was before he found The Lizard, he thought, looking appreciatively at the board on the bench next to him.
It was quite obvious who the winner of the Beginners Division would be, he thought, mentally picking the girl he and W.E. had talked about. And they were right. When the winner was announced, Cathy Foster claimed her prize, a gift certificate worth ten dollars.
Isaac Walsh was the first competitor in the Advanced Division, starting off like a house afire. His first move was a 360-degree spin in the air.
“A three-sixty Ollie Kick Flip,” the announcer explained. “A tough trick, but Isaac did it perfectly.”
The small crowd applauded.
He performed half a dozen other tricks, each time drawing cheers from the crowd.
One after another the contestants were announced, and with each one Brett grew more nervous. What if he made a mistake and ended up on the ground? What if he wasn’t better than Kyle?
Brett shook his head firmly. This was no time for doubts. He had The Lizard, after all, and together they were unbeatable.
He pulled the photocopy of Lance Hawker’s picture out of his T-shirt pocket. He had decided to bring it along for luck. Brett visualized himself sailing through the air, just like Crackerjack, with the number six emblazoned on his chest …
Only Brett’s number was seven. Johnee had six, and Kyle was five. Suddenly Brett got an idea.
He tapped Johnee on the shoulder. “Hey, Johnee.”
“Hey, man,” Johnee greeted him. “Good show so far, eh?”
“Yeah,” Brett agreed. “Listen, I was wondering something — wanna trade places?”
“Whaddaya mean?” Johnee started to get up. “You want to sit here?”
“No, no. I mean, do you want to switch numbers, so I can go right after Kyle?” Brett removed the paper that was taped to his back and handed it to Johnee.
Johnee frowned. “Why can’t you wait your turn, like everybody else?”
“Oh, come on, man. What’s it to you?” Brett said. “You know this means a lot to me.”
“Well, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m a contestant, too. Maybe I’d like to keep my spot,” Johnee replied.
Brett kept looking over his shoulder so he wouldn’t miss Kyle’s performance. He knew Kyle would be called any second now.
“I’d really appreciate it, Johnee,” he said, trying to be patient.
“Why does it matter so much? It’s just a number,” Johnee said.
“It’s more than just a number to me,” Brett admitted, though he felt foolish doing so. “It’s my lucky number. It was the number Lance Hawker wore.”
“And you think that’s a lucky number?” Johnee scoffed.
Brett didn’t have time to explain. “Just give it to me, okay?” And with that he grabbed Johnee’s number off his back and started taping it on his own shirt.
“Hey!” cried Johnee. He tried to grab the paper back, but Brett had already moved out of reach. “You’re weird, Thyson, you know that?” Johnee called after him.
Brett asked W.E. to inform the announcer of the change, and then he turned to watch the next performer: Kyle Robinson. His attention was riveted on Kyle’s feet as he started off with a Kick Turn, skating swiftly up a ramp. At the last moment, just as the
nose of the board was ready to leave the ramp, Kyle put his weight on his rear foot, twisted around, and skated back down.
The crowd applauded.
Kyle did a Tail Wheelie, putting both feet on the rear of the board and skating on just the rear wheels. Then he did a Nose Wheelie, which was just the opposite of the Tail Wheelie, followed by a Judo Air, in which one foot stayed on the board and the other did a karate kick forward.
He did this trick several times, alternating the kicks from one foot to the other, and never losing his balance. The crowd cheered. Brett didn’t clap. He just watched, wondering if he could copy those moves. He felt sure he could.
Kyle performed other tricks, including a handstand with both hands, and finally — just as the whistle blew — a fantastic jump off the top of a ramp, over a three-foot-high horizontal pole with his feet free of the board, and then landing on the board as it skimmed underneath the pole.
The crowd applauded like crazy, and Brett wondered if he could outdo that. Those last two tricks, no doubt, were Kyle’s best.
Then, “Our next contestant, Brett Thy- son!” came the announcement over the PA system.
Brett caught his breath and held it. The moment had come. He could hardly believe it. For the first time in his life, he was going to compete in a skateboarding contest.
He stood up as a round of applause greeted him. He put on his helmet, put his foot on the skateboard, and was ready to go.
13
He started off with some easy tricks first: a Tail Wheelie, a Hang Ten (hanging the toes of both feet over the nose of the skateboard with the rear of the board off the pavement), a Judo Air, and a few others that Kyle and the other contestants had done. Next he did a handstand, using both hands, then let- ting go of the board with one hand and standing straight up on the other.
“Hey, look at that, will you? A Gymnast Plant!” the announcer yelled, surprised and obviously enthusiastic. “Young Brett’s the only one who has done that trick so far!”
The crowd showed its surprise and pleasure too, cheering and applauding. So far, so good, Brett thought, as he looked forward to other moves he expected to do. He was confident now that he was going to skate the best he had ever skated in his life. Better than anyone else. He was sure he could. That was a promise to himself.
He did a couple of Hippy Twists, 360s, then a 540 — a one-and-a-half twist, landing backwards on the board and not losing his balance one bit.
After taking just a few seconds to catch his breath, he skated down the arena several yards, crouched down on the board, grabbed its ends, and stretched his body out horizontally while the board rolled down the pavement. He had worked on this move dozens of times, but never on a skateboard. It had been on his bedroom floor. It was his first time on a skateboard, and it worked.
He raced up another ramp, and, as he reached the top, grabbed an edge of the skateboard with one hand and the edge of the ramp with the other, and somersaulted back onto the pavement.
The announcer whistled his surprise and awe as the crowd again cheered and applauded. “A Radical Invert,” he explained.
Brett did a few wheelies to recover his breath again, a Fast Flowage (skating as fast as he could down the arena, then lifting the board off the pavement for a moment with one foot), then another Hand Plant just as the whistle blew.
Applause filled the air as he wheelied to a dead stop, nodded to the applauding crowd, and headed silently back to the bench.
Two other skaters performed before the contest was over, including Johnee, who did very well but didn’t try anything too fancy. After the last skater, the crowd waited in breathless silence for the winner to be announced. Brett, sweat glistening on his face, was gazing at the skateboard between his sneakered feet.
“Think we won it, Lizard?” he said quietly.
“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and
girls, we have a winner,” the announcer said. “It’s …Brett Thyson! Congratulations, Brett! Come up here and claim your gift certificate!”
Once more the crowd cheered and applauded as Brett jumped up, punched the air with his fist, and strode over to the announcer’s stand to receive his award. He didn’t really care about the prize — this moment of victory was enough.
“Thank you,” he said, shaking hands with the presenter.
“I never doubted it one bit,” W.E. said, reaching forward to shake his hand, too. “Congratulations, Brett.”
“Thanks, W.E.,” Brett said. He realized that, except for one shaky moment, he hadn’t doubted himself either. He knew he was the best, and now everyone else would know it too.
He expected Johnee to come over and congratulate him, too, but Johnee was nowhere to be seen. Brett noticed that Kyle also had disappeared. Sore loser, Brett thought, disappointed that he had missed seeing Kyle’s reaction to his win.
There were others who did come over: his mother, father, Shannon, and a couple of other people he didn’t even know.
“I can’t believe it, Brett,” his mother said, looking at him as if he had won an Olympic medal. “You were …incredible! I never knew you could do tricks like that!”
“Really surprised you, didn’t I, Mom?” he said, amused.
“You sure did!” she declared.
“And me, too,” his father said, his face wreathed in a smile. “You must have been practicing all those tricks behind our backs.”
“Not all of them,” he said honestly. “Here, take my prize home with you.” He handed the certificate to his father.
Could there really be another reason, other than pure guts and ability, that I had been able to perform all those tricks? he wondered. It certainly wasn’t because he had practiced them. Heck, he didn’t even know half of the tricks he had done, or their names! They had just come to him while he was riding the skateboard!
So …what was truly behind his prizewinning performance? His natural ability? Or was it The Lizard?
The Lizard, heck, he told himself. It’s my natural ability. It is!
Skateboard Tough Page 6
