Powerslide by Jeff Ross

Author:Jeff Ross
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: JUV032140, book
Publisher: Orca Book Publishers
Published: 2011-09-01T04:00:00+00:00

Jack arrived an hour late. He got out of his car with his cell phone to his ear. He was in a real skater outfit today. Someone had probably shipped the clothes to him, and he had put them on without a thought, in anticipation of the paparazzi. Sara was right. Jack was playing a game. He was playing a game with Goat and me, and he was playing a game with himself. It was a game called Pretend. After all, that’s where movie stars live, in a pretend world. He needed this new skater image to help him move beyond his kid-actor status. And he was doing everything he could to get there.

Jack dropped his phone in a pocket, grabbed his skateboard out of the trunk and ran up the ramp. “How’s it going, Casey?” he said.

“All right,” I said. I had a flashback of Jack trying to get in Goat’s car, McNaughton driving away and Jack’s humiliation.

“Where’s Goat?” asked Jack.

“I haven’t seen him since last night, when he tried to knock me off my board, ran away and left us stuck on the side of the road.”

Jack shrugged. “It’s all part of it, isn’t it?” he asked.

I frowned. “Getting ditched and left for the police? What is that part of?”

“The culture, man,” Jack said. “I mean, that really got my heart pumping.” He put his board down and spun it in little circles with his foot. He wasn’t going to try and drop in or anything. Being here was all show.

The same gray Toyota from the night before pulled into the parking lot, and the same photographer guy stepped out.

“How does that guy know where you are all the time?” I asked. “Do you tell him or something?”

Jack looked over at the photographer. “Why would I do that?”

“Publicity?”

Jack shook his head. “Man, I’m trying to lay low these days, get ready for my next role, that’s all.”

“But how does he know where you are all the time?” I asked.

Jack shrugged. “I don’t know. He must be lucky.”

It didn’t sound like a believable explanation to me, but what did I care? It wasn’t my face being splashed all over the tabloids.

Goat’s crappy Honda pulled into the lot, and as he approached, I noticed something in his hand. He came up to the ramp and waved it at us. “Yo, what’s up?” he yelled.

Jack let go of his board. It rolled down the ramp, and he dropped to his knees and slid down after it.

I dropped in, pulled a single excruciating backside air and skated over to see what Goat had planned.

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