Skate Freak by Lesley Choyce Read Free Book Online Page B

Hodge noted that I was on cruise control. And then we stopped at the top, both of us kicking our boards up high into the air and catching them.
    â€œQuite the circus act,” he said, breathing hard. “But that was just warm up, right?”
    I remembered the bet. Twenty bucks. Twenty bucks that I didn’t have. “See those guys?” He pointed to the older drinking crowd—our audience. “They got money on this too. They know who you are. They’ve seen you. Some think you’re good. Some think I’m good. Whoever wins, some of them are happy. Whoever loses, some of them are not so happy.”
    â€œI’m out,” I said. “I don’t skate for money, and I don’t want people betting on me. This sucks.”
    He shrugged. “Then pay up. I’ll explain that you wimped out.”
    I could see I was in a no-win situation. I felt trapped. “Okay, your turn,” I said.
    That devil smile again. I tried to pick the glass out of my wheels, but he was already off. I was the dogman this time. Hodge knew how to work me. He made it easy at first, slow and graceful moves, some rail-slides across the lip, some full-on drops, not connecting until halfway down and always avoiding the worst of the jagged glass. We went on like that for about ten minutes. I could sense he was getting tired. I was thinking I might win after all.
    And then he misjudged. His trucks caught on the lip and he lost it. I watched the shock on his face as his feet lost his board, and then he was falling backwards down into the pit. His shoulder bounced him once, and then he rolled onto a broken bottle.
    I was already down onto a cleaner part of the bottom of the pipe, so I kicked myboard up and ran over to him. There was blood on the ground. He was lying on his back. The look on his face said he was in pain.
    â€œSomeone call an ambulance,” I yelled to the older guys. But they were getting up to split. No one seemed to be in the mood to be a Good Samaritan.
    A police car had just driven up onto the edge of the skate park.
    Hodge let out an unearthly howl. He was in serious pain.
    Two police officers came running over. I think they believed we’d been in a fight. Maybe they thought I’d knifed Hodge.
    â€œStand back and don’t move,” one shouted at me.
    â€œHe’s hurt,” I blurted out. “We were skating. He fell on a busted bottle.”
    One officer called for an ambulance while the other carefully rolled Hodge over. A chunk of the bottle was lodged in his lower back.
    Hodge was crying now. I watched asthey put pressure on the wound without taking the glass out. I felt scared and helpless. And angry at myself for getting lured into a stupid bet.
    When they hauled him off in an ambulance, I had no idea how bad the injury was. The cops asked if I wanted a ride home, and I said yes. They were cool enough about it. They said they were sorry about my friend but that we shouldn’t be there at night.
    My father was sitting on the back steps of the apartment building when we pulled up. One of the cops recognized my father and said, “Oh, he’s your son.”
    â€œIs he in trouble?” my dad asked.
    â€œNo. He’s okay,” the officer said. “Just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

chapter thirteen
    Later the next day, I made a few phone calls to try to find out what happened to Hodge. The hospital said that he wasn’t there. That’s all they’d say. I fumbled through the phone book looking at last names until I found a David Hodge and the street name I was looking for. I dialed.
    Hodge answered.
    â€œYou okay?”
    â€œI’m alive, aren’t I? Or do you think you are talking to a ghost?”
    Hodge told me that he had been badly cut and lost some blood. They had to stitch him up, and he’d probably be proud of the scar for the rest of his life. But there wasn’t any real damage. He’d