3. The Deal #2
At last, under the flicker of a lone sodium vapor streetlamp, Gus walked out onto the concrete for the very first time.
Free of any judgment, he placed his homemade board slowly on the ground and stepped on it.
He felt shaky. Gus pushed off, determined to skate well, but he instantly regretted doing too much.
Wobbling back and forth, trying to hold his balance, he feared falling and immediately jumped off the too-fast board, letting it shoot off and roll far away.
He raced after it to attempt again, this time at a slower pace.
All he wanted to do was skate in a straight line, but it was impossible.
He kept screwing it up. Gus huffed and pushed off with more force on his next attempt, hoping the momentum would help and thinking this time he’d be prepared for the speed.
He fell hard on the cold ground. Groaning, Gus got back to his feet.
His body ached but he kept at it. Again and again, Gus’s lack of balance and refusal to give up led to him kissing the concrete multiple times.
One overly ambitious attempt threw Gus sprawling onto his back in a painful wreck.
He rolled over onto his stomach, cursing at himself.
Concrete dust stung his nose, and his every muscle tightened with soreness.
There on the ground, he let his hopes die.
Skateboarding just wasn’t meant for him.
“Holy shit. You okay?” a smooth voice asked from somewhere behind him. “Here, let me help you up.”
Lying there disoriented, Gus turned his neck to find a hand extended out to him. He realized the hand belonged to the daredevil skater he had been watching all week.
Bridger.
The attractive boy, wearing stonewashed Levi’s and a plain white tee, was lit in glorious moonlight. Gus didn’t know what to do. He was too flustered to speak.
“I… uh…” Gus let out.
“No worries, man. We all fall. I crashed into a tree my first ride.” Bridger chuckled as he reemphasized his lowered hand reaching out to help. Gus placed his hand in Bridger’s and was rocketed to his feet.
“Why are you skating in the dark?” Bridger chirped with curiosity.
“Oh! I, uh, just wanted to practice by myself,” Gus shared. “Why are you here so late?”
“Forgot my MP3 on the bench.” Bridger shrugged as, with a SanDisk clutched in hand, he pointed his thumb behind him toward the edge of the concrete.
Gus nodded.
“Whoa! Killer board! Where’d you get it?” Bridger gushed, looking down at Gus’s wooden contraption where it had flipped over next to him.
Gus, too, glanced at the makeshift board and blushed. Bridger grabbed it and inspected the deck closely. Its hand-painted graphic glistened in the light of the skatepark’s lone streetlamp.
“I made it,” Gus admitted timidly.
“You made this?” Bridger’s eyes gleamed as he looked back at Gus. “Dude, this is sick!”
Gus chuckled. “Thanks. My dad has a woodshop.”
“Can I try it out?” Bridger lowered the board, not waiting for an answer.
“Uh, sure, but I haven’t really tested”—Gus watched Bridger take off—“it.”
It was a near-perfect display of skateboarding under the moonlight. Bridger rode around the bowl, hit a rail, and skated back, sliding to a stop near Gus. He finished with a heelflip in place, then kicked up the board to hold it once again. He marveled at the mountains Gus had painted on the deck.
“This setup is fucking amazing, man.” Bridger gestured with delight. “What’s your name?”
Gus rubbed the back of his head. “I’m Gus.”
“Bridger,” the boy responded, reaching for a slap-grab handshake.
Gus paused before linking hands with Bridger. The skater tried to turn the shake into a multi-part dap-up, but Gus flubbed the move. Both boys met eyes. Bridger chuckled and Gus smiled.
“How’d you learn to skate so well?” Gus asked.
Bridger smirked. “From my crew. You should come hang during the day. There are some great riders.”
“Oh.” Gus shook his head. “I’m not very good. Only starting.”
“Right.” Bridger squinted. “I haven’t seen you around before.”
“Yeah.” Gus nodded. “I just moved from Minnesota.”
“So you can make a skateboard, but you can’t skate?” Bridger smiled.
“Making it was the easy part,” Gus said softly.
There was a pause. Bridger’s face lit up with an idea.
“Tell you what. Be here tomorrow, and I’ll teach you a thing or two,” he offered. “But then? You gotta show me how you made this.” Bridger tapped the grip tape of Gus’s homemade board as he handed it back to him.
Gus stared down at the concrete and said nothing. Bridger stepped onto his own board and started to ride away. He looked back one last time, facing Gus.
“Tomorrow!” Bridger called out, pointing at him.
“I—okay. Sure, yes! Thank you!” Gus yelled back awkwardly. “I—nice to meet you!”
Bridger continued to skate off into the darkness, leaving Gus standing alone, stunned.
“Nice to meet you?” Gus muttered at himself under his breath. I’m an idiot.
~
The next afternoon, Gus showed up well before Bridger did.
He decided to practice solo on the patchy road off to the side of the skatepark, not wanting to be near the other local skaters alone.
After an hour or so of lousy wobbling and almost-falls, Bridger finally pulled up behind him as Gus almost slipped again.
“Yo, man,” Bridger laughed casually, “let’s not mess up this early.”
Bridger offered Gus a fist bump as he turned around. Gus returned it.
“Check it. Bend your knees a little more.” Bridger demonstrated. “Like this.”
Bridger showed Gus how to properly balance on his own board. Gus observed every small action as if looking through a microscope. He stepped back onto his own board, mimicking Bridger’s stance.
“Got it,” Gus replied. “Like this?”
“Perfect,” Bridger confirmed. “Follow me to this flat area here.”
Gus got off his board, leaned down, and picked it up with both hands.
“Dude, no,” Bridger scoffed. “Don’t do that. That’s lame. Put it back down.”
Gus dropped his board back onto the rough pavement.
“Never bend all the way down to grab your board,” Bridger warned. “Pop or kick it up.”
Bridger gestured to his own skateboard. He set his foot down on the tail so the board lifted into reach, then grabbed the nose. Gus did the same.
“Great. See? Do that.” Bridger let his board fall again. “Or just pop it.”
Bridger demonstrated the same movement, only this time he kicked down hard on the tail, making the entire board jump up for him to catch in his outstretched hand.
Gus nodded. After a few failed snags, Gus did the pop successfully. Bridger offered him another fist bump.
“Are you regular or goofy?” Bridger asked.
“Huh?” Gus furrowed his brow.
“Regular is left foot forward, goofy is with your right in front, dummy.”