Death Wind (2 page)

“You can pay next time, Brainy, O.K.?”

When they got to the fairground, it was packed with cars, vans and people. Razz showed a pass to the cop at the gate and they drove under a huge white banner that read “Ontario Skateboard Championships.” They parked on the grassy infield and got out.

“I gotta spend the afternoon practicing,” said Razz. “You can do what you want. But do me a favor and keep an eye on the van, O.K.? Last year, Slammer—he's my biggest opposition—sent a few of his goons to wreck my boards.”

“O.K.,” said Allie. “I'll just look around. I'll watch the van.”

Allie didn't know much about skate-boarding, but she knew Razz was last year's national champion. He made a lot of money from sponsors. That's why you could buy boards all over North America with his name on them. This meet was the first one for the season. He was touring the whole country, and if he held onto his championship, the sponsors would keep paying. They paid enough to make Razz the richest seventeen-year-old she'd ever heard of.

Razz unlocked the back doors of the van and hopped inside to change into his gear. Allie looked at the painting on the bright silver panels of the van. It showed Razz doing a hand plant and grabbing a lot of air. He had a big smile on his face. She knew the same picture was painted on the other side of the van.

When Razz hopped out, he was wearing red tights, yellow jammers and pink
shoes. He had a white helmet on and pads protected his knees and elbows. On his sky-blue T-shirt it said
Skate Tough or Go Home
. In his hand was a green board with
RAZZ
written in blue stars.

Three guys came up to them. They were all decked out in skateboarding gear. And they were all holding
RAZZ
boards.

“Hey, Razz. Just get here?” the tallest one said.

“Yup.”

“Slammer's lookin' for ya,” said another of the guys, smiling.

“Yeah, well, tell him I'm not home.”

Razz walked away, saying over his shoulder, “Lock up for me, willya Brainy?”

An hour or so later, Allie was sitting on the grass beside the van, soaking up the spring sunshine. She had her eyes closed.

“Well, well, well. Looks like Razz has a new chick.”

Allie opened her eyes. Standing in front of her was a tall, well-built guy with pure white hair with a black streak up the middle. He was wearing skateboarding gear, but everything was black. On his T-shirt was a picture of a white skull with an ugly buzzard on top. The buzzard had an eyeball in its beak. On the shirt it said
Cheer Up and Die

Allie said nothing.

The guy in black grinned at her, showing his yellow, mossy teeth. “You guarding the new van?” he sneered.

Allie looked away.

The guy took a knife from his pocket and slowly opened it. He looked around. Allie's heart started to pound. He walked to the front of the van and pressed the point against the new silver paint.

“Wanna come and stay with
me
tonight, Sweetie? I can show you a better time than that loser.”

“Why don't you fade away, man?” she
answered, trying to keep her voice even.

The guy's grin disappeared. He began to walk along the side of the van, dragging the knife. It screeched on the metal as he went.

“Hey, you creep!” Allie shouted, getting to her feet.

The guy in black kept at it. She grabbed his shoulder as he passed her. He turned and brought his knee up into her stomach. Allie felt a sharp pain as she dropped to her knees, gasping.

He kept walking slowly, dragging the squealing knife along the side of the van. As he walked away, she saw in big letters across the back of his shirt,
Slammer

The next morning Allie woke to a pounding on the van doors.

She groaned and rolled over. The mattress in Razz's van was too comfortable. She closed her eyes again.

The pounding came again. “Hey, Brainy! Wake up!”

Allie pulled on her baggy jeans and unlocked the door. She checked her watch.
Eight o'clock. Razz hopped into the van, dragging his sleeping bag in after him. He had slept outside on the ground.

“There are showers at the edge of the infield,” he said. He searched inside a leather bag and pulled out his skateboarding gear. “I've gotta warm up. The Street competition starts in half an hour.”

Allie found her backpack under the sleeping bag Razz had loaned her. “OK, thanks,” she said.

“By the way, Brainy, did you see anyone hanging around the van yesterday? Some scumbag did a job on the paint.”

She told him about Slammer, leaving out the part where he kneed her in the gut. Razz looked angry for only a second. Then, to Allie's surprise, he smiled.

“No sweat, Brainy,” he said. “That scum is trying to get me hot, so I'll lose my edge today. But I won't let him. I'll take care of him after the meet. Catch you later.”

After Razz left, Allie hopped down from
the van and locked it. She looked at the dull gray sky as the wind snatched at her long hair.
Wonder what Mom and Dad are doing now
, she thought.
Probably arguing about whose fault it is that I left. What would they think if they knew
why
I left
?

Allie headed toward the showers. She was looking forward to the competitions, to seeing Razz at his best. She hoped that it wouldn't rain.

By the time the Street competition was over, Allie knew that Razz was in a class by himself. There was only one skateboarder close to him and that was Slammer.

All the boarders wore wild clothes. Some, like Razz, wore classy rags in crazy colors. Some went the other way, trying to look poor as beggars. One guy came out in a wet suit! But all of them wore pads and helmets. They swerved, jumped off the low ramp and did all kinds of unbelievable
tricks with goofy names like the Ollie, the Truck Grind and the Acid Drop.

Razz and Allie took a break and had a couple of sodas back at the van.

Razz was surrounded by kids who asked him a million questions and wanted him to sign their boards. He finally had to shoo them away.

Taking a smaller board from the rack in the van, he walked over to the big cement square. The Freestyle part of the meet was about to start. Allie followed him after carefully locking the van.

She couldn't believe what Razz could do. He swerved, danced, spun in circles, did handstands—all on that little board. There were no ramps in this competition—just the flat cement square. Razz made the Pogo and the Finger Flip look easy. The crowd yelled and cheered through his act so loudly that she could hardly hear the music. Allie caught sight of Slammer on the sidelines, waiting for his turn. He was scowling.

Razz won the Freestyle and Slammer came second.

After lunch, Allie got a good seat in the stands for the Half-Pipe competition. This was the most exciting part, and the most dangerous. Razz was winning the meet, but he and Slammer were close in points, so if Slammer made a really good showing on the half-pipe and if Razz messed up, Slammer could win overall.

Allie's seat was right above the rail, in the center of the half-pipe. When the skateboarders came up the side of the half-pipe and grabbed air, they'd be right in front of her.

The first few guys weren't very good. They didn't grab much air and she could see the fear in their eyes as they flew into the air in front of her. Not that she blamed them. This was scary stuff! One poor guy, dressed in a clown suit, missed the coping trying to do a hand-plant. He flipped into the air, then dropped back to the half-pipe,
tumbling down the sides like a broken doll. The guy lay at the bottom, without moving. They took him away on a stretcher. Allie could see a little pool of blood where the kid had been lying.

Next came Razz. He was directly across from her on the other side of the half-pipe. The crowd was dead quiet, waiting for him. He took his time, strapping on the helmet, adjusting his pads. Then he did something amazing. He leaped into the air! At the highest point of his jump, he slapped his board under his feet and dropped like a stone onto the half-pipe. The wheels on the board began to sing. Razz crossed the bottom of the half-pipe, rolled up the wall in front of Allie and flew high into the air.

“Oooooooooo!” was the sound the crowd made. Allie looked at Razz's face as he flew past her. She could tell he saw nothing except the picture in his mind of what he was going to do next. He spun in the air and dropped past her again.

Razz did his 360 Hand-Plants, Rocket Airs and McTwists like no one else. He was smooth. But he was also daring. The crowd never stopped oooo-ing and ahhhh-ing until he was finished. He rose up the half-pipe across from Allie, flew into the air. He landed on his feet with his board in his hand. Then he smiled and bowed, holding his board across his chest so everyone could see RAZZ written across the graphics.

Everybody in the stands knew that Razz had the meet in the bag now.

Slammer was next. He started safely, like the other skateboarders had. He swept up the half-pipe in front of Allie, grabbed some air, turned and dropped back down. He came back. This time he looked straight at her and, as he passed, sent a big gob of spit sailing at her. It splattered onto the bench beside her.

Then Slammer turned and dropped back. The next time he came past, he was
sneering again. Allie gave him the finger. A look of surprise twisted his face into hatred.

When Slammer turned in the air, his timing was off. He dropped onto the coping. With a crack like a whip, his board snapped clean in half. The crowd gasped as he fell down the half-pipe and tumbled to a heap at the bottom. The two halves of his board clattered down beside him.

After a few seconds, he struggled to his feet. He looked back up at Allie, his face dark with hate.

That night there was a dance to wind up the skateboarding meet. It was held in a community center nearby. Razz asked Allie to go with him and she said yes.
I've got nothing better to do except worry
, she thought.

The center was packed with kids when Allie and Razz arrived. There were banners and posters all over the walls,
advertising skateboards and gear. At one end of the room a few kids were doing a Freestyle demonstration on a wooden platform. The music was so loud Allie thought the roof would fall in.

Allie danced with Razz a few times. He was good. She danced with a few other guys, too. But she was nervous and kept looking around for Slammer.
Maybe he'll turn up and give me a hard time
, she thought.

At about nine o'clock Razz said to her, “Brainy, I've gotta go phone my sponsor. They wanted me to tell them how I did today. I'll be right back.”

Allie sat down on one of the metal chairs, sipping a Diet Pepsi, thinking about her parents. Maybe she had made up her mind too fast. Maybe she shouldn't have left home after all. What was she going to do when Razz's tour was over? She had to admit to herself that she hadn't thought things out too well.

“Did the big shot leave you all alone?” a voice asked.

She knew the voice without looking up. It was Slammer.

He was dressed in black—black leather pants and cycle jacket. The light shining on his white hair made him look like a ghost. Standing with him were two other guys.

Slammer leaned over and hissed, “I'd have won today if it wasn't for you, bitch.”

Allie could smell the beer on his breath. She didn't answer, knowing that what he said was a lie. She decided to get up and walk away. Slammer roughly shoved her back into the chair.

“Get lost,” she said, wishing she felt as brave as she sounded.

“For a good-lookin' chick she's got an ugly mouth on her,” said Slammer. One of the guys behind him, a tall blond kid, laughed.

Allie crossed her arms over her chest and looked away.

“Come on with us,” Slammer sneered, “and we'll show you how to party.”

Allie was scared. She looked around, but there was no one near her. All the kids on the dance floor had their minds on other things.

Slammer reached down and grabbed her arm, squeezing hard. He pulled her to her feet. The two goons moved in and the three of them surrounded her. Someone grabbed her other arm and yanked it behind her back. She twisted and struggled. She heard her shirt rip as a jab of pain shot into her shoulder.

“Let me go, you losers!” she yelled. But the music was so loud her voice was lost. Slammer and the two goons hustled her out the back doors of the community center. Allie shot a frantic look back over her shoulder. Just as the door slammed behind her, it flew open
again. It was Razz, and he looked mad.

Slammer and the other goon let go of Allie and she stepped to the side. Slammer had his knife out—the one he had used to do the job on the van. He and the other goons separated so they could come at Razz from two sides. They paid no more attention to Allie.

“Come on, scum,” hissed Slammer. “Let's get it on.”

“Drop the knife, hot dog,” Razz said. “Let's see if you can fight without a blade in your hand.”

Slammer looked around, then folded the knife and put it into his jacket pocket. He grinned.

It was dark behind the community center and there was no one around. The cold wind whipped Allie's hair in her face. All she could do was watch as Razz and Slammer took off their jackets.

They began to circle, each fighter bent over a little, looking for an opening.
Slammer struck first, aiming a kick at Razz's stomach. Razz stepped back and caught Slammer's foot. He twisted it and Slammer fell to the dirt. Razz waited for him to get up again.

Allie could see the hate in Slammer's eyes. Razz looked calm, but he had the same look of concentration he showed when he was up on the half-pipe. Slammer threw a punch. Razz ducked and the punch whacked his shoulder. He stepped forward and shoved Slammer away from him.

Again, Razz stood and waited for him. Slammer looked really mean now.
He isn't looking too good in front of his friends
, Allie thought.