Chapter 22
Maple
I stare down the ramp. Jeez, it’s steep. My knees start to shake so I look away, at the mountains in the distance, trying to find my inner Sky Brown.
The skateboarding actually started much better than I thought it would.
It turns out I’m pretty good at riding on the flat, and it didn’t take me long to figure out stopping and turning.
Dylan has warmed up a bit too, now that he’s talking about his favorite subject, and my nerves have gradually settled over the two hours we’ve been here, even with Mom sitting on a bench like ten feet away taking photos and videos.
But then Mom suggested Dylan teach me a trick, something intrepid and cool. And yeah, she actually used the word ‘intrepid’. And that’s why we’re here. At the top of a ramp with no way out except down.
‘You’ve got this, Maple honey!’ Mom calls out unhelpfully from her bench.
‘You sure you want to do this?’ Dylan asks, with a kind of morbid curiosity. ‘I mean, you’ll probably be fine. But you’ve only been skating for an hour or so. And with your mom forgetting to get you a helmet.’
When it comes to my channel, Mom doesn’t forget anything, so I know her selective approach to protective clothing will be about aesthetics.
The wrist guards and elbow pads make me look like a serious skateboarder, while a helmet would flatten my hair and add shadow to my face, so it’s conveniently forgotten.
But that’s not what sticks in my mind. I mean, you’ll probably be fine. Dylan Dope believes I can (probably) do this. And he’s the expert, isn’t he?
‘I’m good,’ I say, with more confidence than I feel.
Dylan nods. ‘Okay, cool. I’ll go first, so watch me.
You keep your knees soft the whole time, but the move has got to be decisive.
Lift the board by pushing down on your back foot to clear the lip, then lean forward and go.
’ He disappears over the ramp, then slows to a stop in the dip.
It looks so easy, it’s almost an anti-climax. Of course I can do that.
I step onto my board. The grit on the grip board is sparkling in the sunshine, and I use it to lift my mood. Come on, Maple. You’ve got this.
Knees bent, lip cleared, bodyweight forward, go!
The board disappears from under my feet. I’m flying in the air. I flail my arms; one hand hits the concrete, then my shoulder joins it. And whack, my head slams down. Smooth, hard, unforgiving. Pain ricochets around my body. I screw my eyes closed, beg them not to leak tears.
‘Fuck!’ Dylan crouches down next to me. ‘Are you okay? Shit, I should never have let you try that without a helmet.’ He shakes his head.
‘It’s not your fault,’ I manage, still not daring to open my eyes, nausea rising in my belly. ‘And I’m good, honestly. I just need a minute.’
‘Oh, Maple honey, are you okay?’ Mom’s voice filters in.
I test one eye, then the other. She’s leaning over me, her white dress floating in the breeze.
Concern is etched into her face, but is it real or fake?
I have no clue anymore. ‘Did you hit your head? Can you see straight? How many fingers am I holding up?’ she asks in quick succession.
‘God, why did I forget the helmet! This is all my fault!’
I gingerly curl up to sitting, blink a few times. ‘No, it’s not, Mom,’ I say, my instinct always to make her feel better. ‘And I’m fine, I think. I hit my head, but my shoulder took most of the impact.’ I touch my scalp. There’s a lump forming, but I think that’s a good sign.
Mom lets out a long sigh of relief. ‘Thank the Lord for that. I have some Tylenol in the car, so let’s head there now. You poor thing, falling like that, but I may have something to cheer you up.’
‘Oh yeah?’
‘The way you hung in the air for a second before you fell? It was so dramatic. This video is totally going to go viral.’