Skateboard Renegade (2 page)

Brian zigged up next to them. “Mr. Megabrain,” Brian commented, rolling his eyes. “Pretty soon,. you'll be too stuck-up to
want to hang out with the likes of us.”

“Shut up, Jeffers,” Zach told him, forcing a laugh. “Like that would ever happen.”

Inside, though, Zach wasn't the least bit amused. They'd reached the school, and Zach prayed that the conversation would end.
It didn't.

“Amherst Academy—big whoop,” Brian went
on. “All those weirdos, nerds, and geeks. I could never stand going to a school like that.”

“You could never get
into
a school like that, dude,” Farrell shot back. “You're way too dumb in math and science.”

“Better than you,” Brian countered.

“Yeah, right.” Farrell laughed. “You're the one who thought geometry was another name for earth science, remember?”

They all laughed at that one. Looking annoyed, Brian made his way to the top landing of the school's stone steps. “Come on,
you guys,” he said. “Enough yammering. Let's ride some rails! Sam, you watch the sidewalk to make sure it's clear.”

Sam took up his post at the bottom of the handicapped ramp, which zigzagged down the steps in four stages. The setup was perfect.
You rode down the first section of ramp, then jumped the rest of the rails as you went down the sections, finally hopping
off onto the sidewalk at the very bottom. It was the best place they'd ever found for ramp and rail action.

It was also against the law. A big sign on the school wall at the side of the top landing said
NO EATING
,
DRINKING
,
SPITTING
,
LOITERING
,
ELECTIONEERING
,
SOLICITING
,
OR SKATEBOARDING
!

Which was why Zach had had his doubts about coming.
Oh, well,
he thought with a sigh.
It's probably okay, just for a little while
—
just this once.

First one down was Farrell Simon, tall and athletic, and the best ramp rider among them. Bending down to grab his board as
he sailed down the first ramp, he let out a whoop and leaped onto the handrail. He rode it down, straddling it with his rail
bar, then went airborne at the bottom.

“Way to go, Farrell!” Zach yelled as his friend hit the pavement and rolled off in a lazy circle, his fists raised over his
head in triumph. The rest of them cheered, too—except for Brian Jeffers.

Brian had a way of being sarcastic and doing the opposite of what everybody else did. He'd throw you a compliment, only it
sounded like an insult. Zach didn't think much of Brian's sense of humor, but since everyone else always seemed to find Brian
funny, he laughed along with the rest.

“Simon, you call that rail riding? You stink!” Brian called out, slapping his knee like he'd said something
hilarious. Sure enough, the others all laughed and clapped their hands on cue.

Jerry Sinclair was next up, but he wasn't all that good a boarder, so he started from the second landing, halfway down the
steps. From that height, riding only the bottom rail, a fall wouldn't break too many bones.

“All clear!” Sam shouted, and Jerry pushed off.

“What a wuss!” Brian shouted as Jerry failed to make the railing on his first try, and wound up doing a somersault on the
sidewalk to keep from hurting himself. “Next!”

That meant it was Kareem's turn. “S-somebody else go,” he stammered. “I've got a foot cramp.” He bent over as if in pain,
but Zach could tell he was faking it.

Kareem wasn't wearing a helmet or any safety gear—he could be a real big shot when they were just hanging around the playground,
practicing wheelies, ollie flips, and kick turns. But it was another thing when you were doing really dangerous stunts like
this.

“What are you, chicken?” Brian razzed him. “Look,
man, there's nothing to it.” Brian wasn't wearing a helmet, either. He never did. Unlike Kareem, though, Brian didn't seem
to care about the danger. Without an “all-clear” from Sam down below, he pushed off from the top landing, riding the rails
all the way down to the street.

Brian was good, and Zach and the others got caught up in watching his ride. It was only at the last moment, when Brian was
about to leap off the bottom rail for his landing, that they heard Sam's warning cry, followed by a woman's scream.

She was coming down the sidewalk, pushing a baby stroller. Brian, airborne, barreled straight into her. The woman screamed
as she toppled over backward. She let go of the stroller, and it rolled quickly toward the curb, beyond which cars were racing
down the boulevard.

Zach and the others cried out in horror. Luckily, Farrell, who was already on the sidewalk, ran over and grabbed the stroller
just in time. The baby inside started hollering at the top of its lungs.

“My baby!” the woman screamed. “What happened to my baby?”

“The baby's okay, ma'am,” Farrell assured her, walking the stroller back over to her. Brian was trying to help the woman up,
but she yanked her arm free.

“Don't touch me or my baby!” she shouted, grabbing the stroller away from Farrell. “Help!” she yelled, looking around in panic.
“Somebody help me! My baby! My baby!”

Whether it was just bad luck or a twist of cruel fate, at that very moment a police car came around the corner. It pulled
over with a screech of brakes, and Sergeant Raphael Rizzo got out. Zach knew Sargeant Rizzo from school, where he gave D.A.R.E.
lectures.

Rizzo knew all of
them,
too. “These kids botherin' you, Mrs. Bailey?” he asked the woman.

“They certainly are, Officer,” Mrs. Bailey told him. “That one knocked me down. My baby was almost killed!”

Rizzo turned to Brian. “And what do you have to say for yourself, Blondie?” he asked Brian.

“I didn't see her!” Brian said, his voice cracking with fear. No more sarcasm now, Zach noticed.

Brian looked from one of his friends to another. “Sam, you were supposed to warn us if anyone was coming!” he said.

Sam's lower lip quivered. “How'd I know you were gonna take off like that? You didn't warn
me!”
he protested. “I turned around, and you were already halfway down!”

“All right—every last one of you, get in the car,” Sergeant Rizzo ordered. “I'll take it from here, Mrs. Bailey. You sure
you're all right now?”

“Yes, thank you, Officer,” Mrs. Bailey said.

“And the baby?”

“She'll be all right.”

“Well, then.” He tipped his cap to her and went around to the driver's side.

Squashed inside the squad car, the boys shot one another furtive looks. “Oh, man!” Kareem whispered, his eyes panicked. “What
are we gonna do now?”

“You think they'll put us in jail?” Jerry wondered.

“I told you guys last time we weren't allowed to skateboard here!” Sam said. “But nobody listens to me.”

Brian gave Sam a sharp elbow. “Shut up, you
twerp,” he muttered as Sergeant Rizzo got in and started the car.

Zach sat silently in the backseat, crammed in among the rest of them, wondering what was going to happen next. He'd never
been in trouble before —nothing this big, anyway. He'd always gotten decent grades and had a good reputation. Until now.

Sure, he always hung out with Brian and Jerry and the others. And once in a while they got chased by an angry storeowner who
didn't want them boarding in front of his store or in his parking lot. But none of the boys had ever seen the inside of a
police car before!

It had all happened so quickly, too. One minute they were hanging out, fooling around, having some fun. The next minute they
were a bunch of juvenile delinquents, on their way to a life behind bars!

“Now, haven't I told you boys a million times those steps are off-limits?” Sergeant Rizzo said. “I nailed that sign up myself,
but does it do any good? No! I feel like I've been talking to a wall, you know?” They watched the back of his head shaking
back and forth with disappointment. None of them said a word.

“That little baby could have been killed,” Rizzo went on. “And that lady could have been seriously hurt. Those skateboards
of yours are dangerous. Don't you kids get it?” He shook his head again. “They oughta take those things away from you … make
you do some homework for a change.”

“It was just an accident,” Brian pointed out.

“And it's not like we have anyplace safe to go,” Farrell said.

“And what about Moorehead Park?” the sergeant asked, driving in traffic now.

“Yeah, right,” Brian muttered. “Maybe after they repave it, and if they cleaned up the broken glass once in a while. Man,
we are so persecuted in this town! Wherever we go, we get chased. And all we're trying to do is have some fun.”

“You call those things fun?” the policeman asked, snorting in utter disgust. “Gee whiz! You kids kill me. Especially you two,
without the helmets even!” He turned onto a side street and pulled the squad car over.

“Hey,” Jerry said suddenly, his voiced choked with fear. “This is
my
street.”

“That's right.” Rizzo said, nodding his head now.

“But I thought you were taking us down to the station,” Jerry said nervously.

“Nope. I'm gonna drop you kids off one by one, and see what your parents have to say about this.”

A chill went up and down Zach's spine. He looked around at his friends and saw that they were panicking, too.

Telling their parents? That was much worse than going to jail!

Zach and the others watched from the backseat of the squad car as Jerry Sinclair's mother yelled at him. Then she grabbed
his ear and pulled her son inside, slamming the door behind them.

Oh, boy,
Zach thought.
This is not looking good.

One by one, the other kids were dropped off. Zach watched them all go, looking as though they were on their way to the electric
chair. He could only imagine what his parents were going to say when they saw him come home in a police car!

I
t was even worse than he could have imagined. There was no yelling, like at some of the other kids' houses. Instead, and far
worse, he got the disappointed looks, the shaking heads, the tears in his mother's eyes—and last but not least, the lecture.

“Skateboards are dangerous things,” his dad began. “We thought you were mature enough to handle the responsibilities.”

“I am, Dad,” Zach replied lamely. “It wasn't my fault.…”

“This is not about blame,” said his mother.

But Zach knew that it was. He was to blame for letting his parents down. They were to blame for not raising him better. He
ran up to his bedroom and shut the door behind him.

Their voices followed him:

“There'll be no more skateboarding before school starts!” his dad said, sounding angry.

“And you're to stay around the house, where we can keep an eye on you, do you hear?” his mom added.

Zach heard them all right, but he didn't say anything. He waited until their voices faded down to a murmur. Then he slowly,
silently opened his door and crept halfway back down the stairs, to hear what they were saying to each other in private—the
real deal, not the stupid lecture stuff they gave him, as though he were a three-year-old or something!

“I'm
so
glad he got into Amherst,” Zach heard his mom say.

“Yeah,” his dad agreed. “He wasn't going to learn anything good from those kids at Brighton. Maybe he'll fall in with a better
class of kid at Amherst.”

A better class of kid? Zach could feel the blood pounding in his ears. He had to bite down on his lower lip to keep from screaming
down at them.

“Those are my friends you're talking about!” he would have said. “I picked them, and I like them, and they like me, and it's
none of your business who I hang out with!”

But he just sat there, listening to see if they would say anything else outrageous.

“He's such a bright boy,” his mom went on. “He should be hanging around with gifted children.”

“Some of those Brighton kids have been in trouble before,” his dad interjected. “I heard someone say Jerry Sinclair got caught
shoplifting last year.”

Yeah. A piece of gum. Zach shook his head in despair. Jerry had only done it on a dare from Brian Jeffers, who would never
have tried to do such a thing himself. Okay, so Jerry had made a mistake, and like a moron, he'd gotten himself caught by
a policeman who'd come into the store to buy some breath mints. Caught red-handed.

Jerry was now a two-time loser. No wonder his mom had grabbed him by the ear like that. She'd probably chew it right off for
him. But one thing she wouldn't do—she wouldn't send Jerry to another school, just to keep him away from his friends!

Though Zach normally got along with his mom and dad, at moments like this he really hated them. Why were they punishing him?
Because Brian hadn't warned Sam to be on the lookout? Because Zach had followed Brian and the others to Brighton Middle
so they wouldn't have to skateboard over broken glass?

And wasn't sending him to Amherst punishment enough? Why did they have to ground him for the next three days—his last three
days before school started? These might be the last days he ever got to hang out with his old friends!

Zach crept back up the stairs. On the way to his bedroom, he passed the open door of his sister's room. Zoey, nine years old,
had become a real pain lately, always wanting Zach's attention. She was in her room now, playing with her little friend Lorena.

“Hi, Thack,” Lorena said. She had a really thick lisp. Zach sometimes felt like imitating it, but he never did. Lorena worshiped
Zach, and he knew it would have hurt her feelings if he'd made fun of her. But he was sure there were lots of others kids
who did.

“Hi, Lorena,” he said. “Hey, Zoey.”

“You got in trouble,” Zoey said, smiling wickedly.

“No duh!” Zach replied. “You are so smart, Zoey. How did you figure that out? Was it the policeman?”

Zoey giggled, and so did Lorena. “Are you going to jail, Thack?” Lorena asked.