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  “Actually, it was Kyle.” Brett laughed at Johnee’s confused expression. “He got me to thinking that I was relying too much on The Lizard to win for me. I wanted to see if I could doit on my own.”

  Johnee cast his eyes down and said in a low voice, “I guess you got your answer today, huh?” He looked up at Brett again. “Do you think The Lizard really was hexed, like W.E. said?”

  Brett shrugged. “It did seem different out there today, without The Lizard. I wasn’t as sure of myself. But it could be that I just have to get used to my old board again. I’ll know better once I’ve had more time to practice. Maybe I’ll do better next time; maybe I won’t. But there’s one thing I do know …”

  “What’s that?” Johnee asked.

  “I’m glad to be rid of that board!” Brett said. He held out his hand and Johnee slapped it.

  “All right!” said Johnee. Then he held out his hand and Brett slapped it.

  Slowly, they started to head for the exit when a high, shrill voice called, “Brett! Johnee!”

  “Guess Mrs. Weatherspoon wants to see us,” Johnee said.

  Maybe she wants to tell me how lousy I performed, Brett thought. As if I didn’t know.

  They stitched their way through the small crowd to the steps leading up to the porch where Mrs. Weatherspoon was standing, and smiled up at her.

  “Hi, Mrs. Weatherspoon,” Johnee said. “It was a great contest, wasn’t it? And we really owe it all to you. Every bit of it.”

  “That goes for me, too, Mrs. Weatherspoon,” Brett said.

  The wrinkles around her eyes creased as she smiled and extended her hands to the boys. Each took a hand — Brett her right one and Johnee her left — and held it warmly, as she held theirs.

  “I just want to tell you, Brett, how much I owe you for having written that letter and giving me an opportunity to do something for a lot of the boys and girls in this neighborhood. Most of all, I want to thank you for something else.”

  She paused, and Brett felt her hand squeeze his even a little tighter.

  “What’s that, Mrs. Weatherspoon?”

  “You can’t guess?”

  He thought about it a minute, but he couldn’t.

  “I’m sorry. I guess I can’t…”

  “Think about Kyle a minute. Kyle Robinson,” she said, and looked at him closely.

  Then it dawned on him. Yes, he knew exactly what she meant, now.

  “You’re right, Mrs. Weatherspoon,” he said. “I don’t think you have to worry about him and me anymore. I wanted to show him what I could do, and I did, at the last contest. Today he won fair and square.”

  “Your frustrations are over as far as Kyle Robinson is concerned?”

  He nodded. “Yes, ma’am. He’s a good skater, and I know I can be, too. For now, though, I just want to have fun with it!”

  Mrs. Weatherspoon’s eyes shifted to Johnee’s, and she shook her head. “Guess Kyle wasn’t the only one we were concerned about, was he, Johnee?”

  Johnee laughed. “I guess not, Mrs. Weatherspoon,” he said.

  Brett looked at him, and laughed, too. He knew exactly what they were referring to — his and Johnee’s own friendship. It had been on the edge of disaster, just because of the way he had talked and acted. All because of The Lizard.

  Mrs. Weatherspoon glanced over their heads. “Well,” she observed, “the crowd’s all gone. And I suppose you two want to get home and satisfy your empty stomachs, too. See you later, okay?”

  “Okay, Mrs. Weatherspoon,” they said in unison. They jumped off the porch, got on their skateboards, and skated away.

  “She’s terrific, isn’t she?” Johnee cried as they skated out onto the sidewalk.

  “More than terrific,” said Brett. “She’s super-terrific!”

  At the intersection they split, Johnee turning left and Brett heading straight ahead.

  “Welcome home, Cobra,” Brett said, smiling down at his skateboard.

  Matt Christopher®

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