Skateboard Renegade Page 2

“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!

  3

  It 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? W
hy 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.

  Zach thought of Amherst Academy. It didn't have bars on the windows, but if he didn't have any friends there, it was going to feel like jail all right.

  “Thoey theth you promithed to give her thkateboarding lethonth,” Lorena said.

  “I did,” Zach told her. “I will, okay? Soon.”

  “When?” Zoey asked.

  “I don't know! Soon! Now leave me alone!”

  Zach went into his room and shut the door behind him to get away from those two little pests. He sat on his bed, bitter but determined. He would show his parents they couldn't push him around and tell him what to do. He would be friends with whomever he wanted!

  “Yo, Zach!”

  Through his window, he could hear Jerry's harsh whisper coming from the driveway below.

  Zach got off the bed and looked down. It was after dark now, but by the light of the porch lamp, Zach could see that Jerry was on his bike, not his board. He waved at Zach, motioning for him to come down and talk.

  Zach went down the stairs quietly. His dad was watching the ballgame intently. From the sound of the stadium crowd, it seemed like something exciting was happening. Good. Zach got past his dad easily, without his even noticing, and slipped out the side door to the driveway.

  “Guess what? Brian's dad let him have it with the belt!” Jerry told him.

  “Shhh! Not so loud. How's your ear?” Zach asked.

  “Sore,” Jerry admitted. “What'd you get?”

  “Just a lecture,” Zach said. “And a grounding. I can't go boarding between now and when school starts.”

  “That bites,” Jerry said. “Listen—we're all going tomorrow to get our ears pierced and our hair bleached. Wanna come?”

  “If I'm allowed,” Zach said. And then he thought, Wait a minute! “If I'm allowed?”

  “Oh, what the hey? I'm there, no matter what!” he told Jerry. The boys exchanged an elaborate handshake, and Jerry took off on his bike.

  “There,” Zach said under his breath. He would spend his last days of freedom any way he felt like it! He would get his hair bleached like the rest of his friends! And he'd get his ear pierced, too! Hey —maybe he'd even get a tattoo!

  4

  Back in his room, Zach checked his wallet and his money box. He'd done some baby-sitting over the summer, for kids whose parents both worked. He'd even sat for Lorena once or twice, even though it meant putting up with Zoey, too.

  With all his trips to the mall and to the movies with his buddies, Zach knew that it had been an expensive summer and that he'd spent most of his earnings. Still, there had to be something left over.

  He counted out sixteen measly dollars. Where had all the rest of it gone?

  He thought back. Candy binges, souvenirs when the family went on vacation, and those cool shades he'd bought himself … boy, the money sure went fast, now that he was earning his own!

  Well, he could probably get his ear pierced for that amount. Or he could get a regular haircut, without the bleaching or spiking. But no way was sixteen dollars enough for both!

  Zach had no idea how much it would cost to make his hair look like Brian's, but it had to be more than a regular haircut. That amount, plus the piercing?

  He needed to borrow some bucks so he could stay down with his crew. He didn't think there was any chance of getting a loan from his parents, let alone of their paying for his “new look.” Not after the little incident with the policeman.

  Of course, there was always Zoey—more to the point, there was Zoey's big pink piggy bank!

  A brilliant plan formed in Zach's mind in an instant. He would borrow the money from Zoey's bank, then earn it back baby-sitting and return the money before Zoey ever got wise!

  He stared out his door, across the hall, and through the open door of Zoey's room. There was the piggy bank tempting him on top of her bureau.

  Where had Zoey and Lorena gone anyway? Zach looked out the window. There they were, in the backyard.

  Good, he thought. At least she wasn't riding his board anymore.

  “I'll pay her back before she even knows the money's gone,” Zach assured himself as he went into Zoey's room and picked up her piggy. Turning it over, he opened the plastic twist bottom and took out the bills and change.

  His sister had saved for this money over the course of who knew how long. It looked to Zach as though she'd never spent a dime of it on anything.

  “Unbelievable,” Zach said. “There has to be fifty dollars here at least!” He counted out forty in bills, then put the rest back in the piggy. The coins would make a nice ka-ching if for some bizarre reason Zoey happened to get suspicious and shake her piggy to make sure her money was still there.

  Zach figured he could make up the forty bucks —if he even spent it all—in a couple of nights of baby-sitting. Feeling satisfied with himself, he screwed the plastic piece on again and replaced the piggy on the bureau. He tiptoed back to his room, the bills snug in his pocket.

  Fifty-six bucks ought to be enough, he figured. Man, he couldn't wait to see his parents' faces when he came home looking like a whole new person!

  Zach's parents put up a fuss when he said he wanted to go to the mall, but when he told them he needed a haircut, they took one look at his hair and agreed. It had gotten long and unruly over the summer, and he really did need a cut, any way you looked at it.

  Besides, he'd just spent fifteen minutes messing it up as badly as he could.

  His mom insisted on driving him, just to make sure he didn't have the pleasure of using his skateboard. Zach got out at the mall and said, “You don't have to pick me up. I'll get a lift home with one of the other kids' parents.”

  “What if you can't?” his mom asked.

  “Then I'll walk.”

  “Walk? It's two miles!”

  “It'll be good for me,” he said, an edge of sarcasm in his voice. “I need the exercise, since I'm not allowed to go skateboarding.”

  His mom glared at him. “Wiseguy,” she muttered. “All right. Walk home.” As she drove off, he heard her mutter, “I can't wait till the school year starts.”

  Zach's first stop was Hair Apparent, where he asked how much it would be to have his hair bleached and done in spikes.

  “For you, cutie? I'll knock five bucks off the price,” the stylist on duty told him. She had two rings in each ear, one in each nostril, and one in her tongue. She looked about seventeen years old.

  Zach found himself staring at the rings. Man, he thought, it must have hurt to get pierced all those times! The idea of doing it even once was already giving him the shivers.

  “You like 'em?” she asked, guessing what he was looking at.

  “Um, yeah,” he said, embarrassed that he'd been caught. “Did it … I mean, did it —”

  “Did it hurt? You bet it did,” she said with a smile. “Thinking of getting pierced yourself?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I recommend Hot-Cha, down at the other end of the mall. They give you a free earring with each piercing.”

&
nbsp; Hey, that was probably how Brian Jeffers had got his diamond stud earring. It was probably fake and came with the piercing. That had to be it—nobody would have bought Brian a diamond, and he sure didn't have the money to buy one himself.

  “Cool,” Zach said, fighting down the feeling of panic that was slowly rising inside him. “Urn, how much is it?”

  She quoted him a price.

  “Thanks,” Zach said. He did some quick mental arithmetic. He figured he had just enough money for everything, even including sales tax.

  Zach felt his knees go weak. Was he really going to go through with this? He needed time to think.

  Where are the guys? he wondered. Maybe he'd wait till they arrived, and they'd all do it together. Jerry hadn't said what time they were coming. Zach sure hoped they hadn't already been and gone.

  “You wanna get bleached or not?” the girl asked as he turned to go.

  “In a while.”

  “I've got an opening now. Later, you might have to wait.”

  “Oh.” Zach hesitated. “I'm kind of waiting for some friends of mine. We're all gonna get it done together,” he explained to the stylist.

  “Oh, honey, I've already done three or four of these cuts today. Some boys were in here earlier —it's a very popular style right now.”

  “Oh. That must have been them.” Zach said, recovering some of his courage. “In that case, let's do it.”

  Forty-five minutes later he looked at himself in the mirror and nearly screamed out loud. He looked awful!

  No, wait a minute, he told himself. It's just the shock of seeing myself like this. It really looks okay. I mean, it's not that bad—I think.

  “How do you like it?” the girl asked.

  “Awesome,” he lied. He hated it.

  “Okay, then, that'll be thirty-eight, including tax,” she said, taking the towel off him and shaking it out.

  Zach fished for the bills he'd stuffed in his pockets. He wondered if there was any way to put his hair back the way it had been before. But of course, even if there was a way, he couldn't afford it anymore.

  “Here you go,” he said, giving the stylist a two-dollar tip, just to show her he was pleased with the haircut.