Skateboard Party

by Karen English

  When he finishes, he sits back and waits.

  At last, the test begins. Ms. Shelby-Ortiz says each word clearly. Then she puts the word in a sentence and says the word once more.

  “Wrist,” she says. “I hurt my wrist playing tennis. Wrist.”

  Richard writes w-r-i-s-t. He looks at it, certain he’s spelled it correctly.

  “School,” Ms. Shelby-Ortiz says. “I’m doing very well in school this year. School.”

  Easy, Richard thinks, and writes it down quickly.

  “Enough,” she says. “I think I’ve studied enough for my spelling test. Enough.”

  E-n-o-g-h, he writes. He looks at it closely. It doesn’t look right. What’s missing? he wonders. He spells it out silently. The u, he realizes. He forgot the u. He erases the word and writes e-n-o-u-g-h. Better, he thinks.

  Richard easily spells every word from then on while he waits for Ms. Shelby-Ortiz to say quotient.

  Finally he hears her say, “Okay, class. Last word. Quotient. The answer to a division problem is called a quotient. Quotient.”

  Richard’s hand is shaking a little. He takes a deep breath and writes q-o-t-i-e-n-t. He looks at it. He knows it’s wrong. The u—why does he always forget the u? Richard erases the word and starts all over. He writes q-u-o-t-i-e-n-t. He looks at it closely. Yes! he thinks. He turns his paper face-down, hiding it from prying eyes. That’s it.

  He can’t help smiling when Casey comes to his table to collect the papers. He looks around, happy to have the test behind him. But he’s not out of the woods yet. There’s silent reading while Ms. Shelby-Ortiz corrects the tests. There’s waiting for her to call his name and report his score. She calls out only the hundreds. Then of course there’s the rainforest presentation right after lunch.

  Richard takes out his Sustained Silent Reading book and looks at the title: Henry Huggins. He opens the book and begins to read with his ears tuned, ready to hear the sound of Ms. Shelby-Ortiz calling out his name and announcing that he got a hundred on the test. He looks over at her. She’s busy shaking her head over a test she’s correcting. He feels a sudden surge of fear. What if that’s his paper? What if he’s wrong about how well he did? What if he misspelled quotient?

  “Good job, Nikki. One hundred percent.”

  Richard tries to concentrate on his book. He’s reading the same sentence over and over.

  “Good job, Erik. Once again.”

  Richard begins to click his teeth nervously. Noisily too, apparently, because Rosario looks over at him and frowns.

  “And Richard, I’m happy to say. Good job.”

  Richard can’t help grinning and looks down, not wanting everyone to see how much it matters to him, how much it is out of the ordinary for him. He draws in a big breath and slowly lets it out.

  When Ms. Shelby-Ortiz calls on him after lunch to give his presentation on the howler monkey’s habitat, Richard practically skips to the front of the class. Gavin gives him the thumbs-up. But Richard doesn’t need it. What he learned about the howler monkey’s habitat is really interesting, and he thinks the class will find it interesting, too.

  To start, Richard has the visual aids that he did all by himself. He drew the big shape of South America and put in the countries with pencil first, then traced everything in different-colored markers. He found photographs of howler monkeys online and printed them, cut them out, and glued one in each country where howler monkeys are found. Now Richard sticks the poster into the clips on the whiteboard and then gets Ms. Shelby-Ortiz’s pointer, which kids are allowed to use when they give reports. It feels good in his hand.

  He begins by telling the class all the ways the different habitats (tropical rainforests, evergreen forests, and seasonal deciduous forests) are alike and why the howler monkey likes them so much. Yolanda Meeker’s mouth is hanging open a little bit. A good sign, Richard thinks. Ralph looks as though he’s paying attention. Another good sign. Then Richard tells the class some things about howler monkeys.

  “Howler monkeys like to live in the tops of trees so they can eat the leaves up there and some flowers and fruit and stuff. They like to lounge around and not fight with the other monkeys.” Now Yolanda’s mouth hangs open more and Carlos puts down the rubber band he’s been playing with. “Since they live in the rainforest and people are cutting down the rainforest, they’re kind of losing where they live and stuff. And also the baby howler monkey stays on its mother’s back because the father howler monkey will kill it.”

  Yolanda’s eyes get big and so do Carlos’s and Ralph’s.

  “So that’s my report.” Richard takes a little bow, enjoying himself. After all, he got a hundred on his spelling test. “Are there any questions?”

  Yolanda’s hand creeps up. “Is that true? Does the daddy howler monkey kill the baby howler monkey?”

  “Yeah, lots of times. But the mommy howler monkey protects it a lot of times too.”

  Yolanda seems relieved. Richard looks around for more questions but doesn’t see any more raised hands.

  “Thank you, Richard, for that interesting report. Very . . . quick and to the point.”

  With a big sigh, Richard returns to his desk. His week of punishment is over.

  Eleven

  The Perfect Flat-Ground Ollie

  The sun is shining when Richard opens his eyes. The night before, they’d had a little family celebration when he’d showed his parents his 100 percent on his spelling test. And he’d actually been able to show them, which was a miracle because Ms. Shelby-Ortiz usually files the tests in the students’ folders. Plus he got to tell his parents about the howler monkey report. His mother let the boys have root beer floats for dessert and didn’t even get mad when Darnell kept blowing into his to make extra bubbles. There was more fun when their dad turned on the basketball game and Richard and his brothers crashed all over the family room to watch it.

  Richard watches Darnell snoring with his mouth open. He looks around for something to toss at Darnell but then decides against it. Barefoot, he pads down the stairs and into the kitchen. He listens to the refrigerator hum. The box of Cinnamon Crunch is on top of the refrigerator. He gets it down and shakes some into his hand. He pulls out his pajama shirt pocket and shakes some into there, too. He goes out to the back porch and looks at his skateboard leaning up against the house. It looks sad, as if it could be feeling abandoned. Richard has been so busy this week with his project and his spelling test and minding his p’s and q’s, he hasn’t had any time to practice.

  “What are you doing out here in your pajamas?” his mother asks. Richard hadn’t heard her step out onto the porch.

  “Looking at my skateboard.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You need to go upstairs and wash up and get dressed for breakfast.”

  “Then can I practice something on my skateboard?”

  “We’ll see.”

  His mother always says “We’ll see” when she means yes but doesn’t want to come out and say it.

  Darnell is just stirring when Richard throws on his clothes and then practically skips down the stairs to breakfast.

  One by one his brothers arrive at the table and stare at him as they shake the last of the cereal into their bowls. Will I ever live that blob thing down? he wonders.

  “I’ve got basketball practice,” Roland announces. “I said Jamal could come with me and watch.”

  “And remember, Mom, I’m supposed to help Mrs. Johnson set up at the park for the party. She’s going to be picking me up in thirty minutes,” Darnell says.

  “I know. I’ve already talked to Mrs. Johnson.”

  This couldn’t be more perfect, Richard thinks. No one to watch him practice. No one to laugh at him when he messes up. He’s got a little bit of time between his brothers leaving and Gavin arriving to walk with him to the park. Richard grabs his skateboard and goes into the garage for his crate.

  He places the crate in the middle of the driveway, carri
es his skateboard to the end of the driveway, and jumps on. But just as he gets to the crate, he chickens out. He’s never tried jumping over something before. He decides to try again. He knows he needs to come down on the back of the skateboard at the last minute. Oh, and he needs as much speed as possible.

  Richard starts again, but just as he gets to the point where he must push down on the back of the skateboard, thoughts of that boy Evan Richardson come to mind. Evan is the boy in Darnell’s class who tried to do a flat-ground Ollie over a crate—and broke his arm.

  Richard chickens out again. He stands there staring down at the crate. He’s not going to do it. He knows he isn’t. He feels a little bit disappointed. He pictures himself carrying the crate up to the skateboard park, then placing it on the sidewalk next to the skateboard area with all eyes suddenly turning to him. He pictures himself skateboarding fast to the crate and then sailing over it, to the crowd’s oohs and aahs. How come so many things don’t turn out as you picture them? he wonders.

  Richard returns the crate to the garage and carries his skateboard to the end of the driveway to practice his regular flat-ground Ollie. He gives himself a running start. When he gets to the middle of the driveway, he pushes his heel on the back of the skateboard. It elevates. He jumps to land on the board and ride it as it sails a bit before dropping back to the driveway. Perfect. Wow, he thinks. I’m pretty good. Gavin can’t do that. Darnell can do it only some of the time. Richard bets even Gregory Johnson can’t do the flat-ground Ollie as well as he can.

  “What are you doing?” Gavin is coming up the driveway with his skateboard under his arm.

  “Something.” Richard picks up his skateboard.

  “You ready?”

  “Wait, I have to tell my mom we’re walking to the park now.”

  Gregory’s mom has reserved the skateboard park for two hours, so it’s all theirs. Richard feels butterflies in his stomach. He’s excited at the sight of the streamers in the low branches of the tree that is shading the picnic table. He’s excited at the sight of Gregory Johnson’s dad cooking hamburgers on the barbecue grill. He’s excited at the sight of the bounce house for Gregory Johnson’s little cousins—and the picnic table covered with chips and punch and all kinds of cupcakes. He even likes looking at the pile of presents. He searches for the gift his mother bought and wrapped and that Darnell delivered.

  “A book?” he remembers saying when his mom told them what “they” had gotten Gregory Johnson.

  “A book?” Darnell had repeated, sounding as if he couldn’t believe it. “Why a book?”

  “It’s an atlas,” his mother had said. “It’s way better than just looking up a map online. Because you can run your finger over the page.” She’d looked at them as if she was expecting them to get it, but then shook her head at their blank looks. “He’ll love it, eventually,” she said.

  Now Richard no longer cares that their present to Gregory Johnson is . . . a book. All he cares about is doing his flat-ground Ollie perfectly. Already, boys from Darnell’s class are sailing up and down the bowls and along the rims. Richard checks the flat run between two bowls. It’s occupied by a few older boys—cousins of Gregory Johnson—attempting some really difficult moves: Nollie nerd flips and underflips and fakie frontsides. Some are even succeeding. A whole bunch of boys from Darnell’s class have formed an audience on the bleachers. For every successful feat, a cheer goes up.

  Richard swallows as he takes his board down to the flat ground. “Where are you going?” Gavin asks.

  “Down there,” Richard says, pointing to the end of the line of kids waiting to show off their tricks.

  “You don’t want to do the bowls?”

  “Nah. I’m going to try a flat-ground Ollie.”

  “You know how to do that?”

  “Yeah,” Richard says casually, though his heart is pounding. He’s never had an audience before.

  He gets in line behind one of Gregory Johnson’s cousins. Too soon, the cousin is up. Richard hears someone say, “Hey, it’s Mark Johnson. He’s the best!” Then it’s as quiet as a golf course. Mark Johnson pushes off fast on his skateboard and does a perfect frosty flip. Richard’s heart sinks. How can he follow that?

  “Ooooh!” someone cries from the stands.

  “Did you see that?” someone else yells.

  Loud whooping starts up and seems to go on forever. Finally it dies down and it’s time for Richard to do his flat-ground Ollie. He feels like taking his skateboard and walking off, but with all eyes on him, he can’t. He’d never live it down.

  He pushes off—concentrating on every part of his body. When it’s time, he presses down on the back of the board with his heel. The board leaves the ground. He just has to land on it firmly enough not to fall forward. Richard thrusts himself up and comes down solidly, both feet connecting with the board hard. He rides it out without a stumble. He lets out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He feels as if he’s floating with relief. He did it. He didn’t falter. There’s a little bit of applause behind him, along with Gavin’s whoops that sound extra loud against the sparse clapping.

  Oh, well, Richard thinks. He doesn’t care. He did it! And he didn’t fall!

  That alone feels great. He picks up his board and climbs the steps to where Gavin is sitting in the bleachers with a big grin on his face. Gavin looks as though he is actually proud of Richard. And Richard is proud of himself, too. And now he’s also hungry. Right on time, it seems, because just then Gregory Johnson’s father calls out, “Okay, everybody come and get it!”

  One

  It Was an Accident!

  Gavin is waiting for his new friend, Richard, to come over to play video games. Gavin likes Richard, his friend at Carver Elementary. Gavin had lots of friends at his old school, Bella Vista Elementary, but he knows that you have to start over whenever you change schools.

  In this new neighborhood, there’s a lot to get used to. There’s the new house and the new backyard and the new kids on his street who don’t even know that he is practically a soccer star. Well, maybe not a star, to be exact, but he thinks he’s pretty good. Anyway, Richard chose him for his team in kickball, so Richard’s a nice guy.

  Gavin has his socks rolled into a ball, and while he waits, he tosses the sock ball up hard until it hits the ceiling and comes back right into his hands.

  “That’s annoying. Why don’t you stop?”

  It’s Danielle, his sister. Unfortunately, she was not left behind at the old house.

  He tosses the balled socks up at the ceiling again just to spite her.

  “Ugh. You’re so annoying!”

  Luckily, she’s going across the street to babysit. Soon, Gavin hopes.

  Finally, the doorbell rings—and before he can get up to answer it, Danielle, Miss Big-Eighth-Grader, Miss Big-Thirteen-Trying-to-Be-Sixteen, opens the front door and stares down at Richard.

  “Yeah?” she says, in her new cool manner.

  Richard stares up at her for a few seconds. “Are you Gavin’s sister?”

  Without answering, Danielle calls over her shoulder, “Gavmeister, your friend’s here.”

  Gavin cringes. No one knows about that nickname at his new school. Danielle steps aside and lets Richard in. He tiptoes past her, probably a little afraid of her looming presence.

  “Hi,” he says sheepishly from the living room doorway.

  “Hi,” Gavin says. He throws his balled socks at the ceiling once more and catches them easily, hoping Richard’s impressed.

  “Are we still going to play video games?” For some reason Richard seems a bit unsure.

  “Yeah. What do you want to play?”

  Richard shrugs and plops down on the sofa. “You have Fight Night?”

  Gavin stops tossing his sock ball and sits on the floor, staring at the blank screen of the television. He hates to admit that his mom doesn’t allow “overly violent” video games. “No, I don’t have that one.”

  “You have Slam!?” />
  Gavin shakes his head.

  “Slam2!?”

  Gavin shakes his head again.

  “Well, what do you have?” Richard asks, frowning.

  “I have Animal Incredible.”

  Richard looks at Gavin as if he’s grown a third eye. “Man, that’s a baby game.”

  Gavin doesn’t say anything.

  Richard sighs. “Okay, we’ll play that.”

  After twenty minutes Gavin can tell, without even looking at him, that Richard is getting tired of the game. He’s sighing and making mistakes and Gavin knows it’s just a matter of time before the complaints begin. They’re both sitting on the floor now with controls in their hands, trying to rack up points to add particular animals to their kingdoms. Gavin is racking up more points than Richard, so he isn’t surprised when Richard puts the control down and says, “This game sucks.”

  Gavin looks over his shoulder quickly. His mother doesn’t like that word. “It has a rude sound,” she’d explained the one time Gavin tried it out. “I don’t want to hear that again.”

  “That’s ’cause I’m winning,” Gavin says to Richard.

  “Because you play this baby game all the time.” Richard gives the control beside him a shove, to show that he is totally finished with trying to populate his kingdom. “Who cares, anyway? Why don’t you at least have Spooky Mansion? Carlos has it, and it’s way more fun.”

  “My mom likes games to be kind of educational,” Gavin admits.

  Richard sighs extra loud. A big sigh that begins with a long intake of breath. “Whatcha got to eat?”

  Before Gavin can answer, he hears his mom on the stairs. She stops in the room with her purse over her shoulder. “Hi, Richard,” she says.

  Richard looks like he’s suddenly on guard. “Hi, Mrs. Morris.”

  “I’ve got to go to the mall,” she tells them. “Your dad’s in his office, and Danielle is right across the street at the Myerses’. You guys going to be okay?”