I sit.
“What’s going on?” she asks.
I shrug.
“No shrugging,” says Nan. “Shrugging is like saying ‘I give up’ and I’ve never known you to do that. Land sakes, I’ve seen you doing the same thing on your skateboard over and over again, trying to get it right. No, you are not a quitter. So, no shrugging, please.”
“It’s just that…I liked how it was,” I say.
“Changes are hard,” says Nan. “Even good changes take time to get used to. But you know what helps?”
“No. What?” I ask.
“Giving new things a chance. There’s always a way forward, Sibby, even if it feels like you’re going backward in order to get there.”
“I miss Vera,” I say, and I tell Nan and Pops all about Charlie Parker Drysdale and Esther’s no-laces shoes and their weird lunches. And about how they kept talking about Freddie being such a great skateboarder, which made me feel like I wasn’t.
“Being friends with people who aren’t exactly the same as you is a good thing,” says Nan. “It’s how we learn to do and try new things—and their lunches sound delicious, like something maybe we could even try.”
“Not the tofurkey,” says Pops. “It’s enough that I’m walking every day and that I don’t use salt anymore, even though I’m a Maritimer. Maritimers need to eat extra salt. It’s our connection to the sea.”
“George,” says Nan. “That’s just ridiculous.”
“It’s a good theory,” says Pops. “You have to admit that.”
“No, I don’t,” says Nan. “And, from now on, Sibby’s lunches go in a lunch bag not a compost bag,” she says. “Honestly.”
“We all have new things to get used to,” says Pops, “like making sure your cereal milk isn’t outta date. Sorry about that, kiddo. Been a long, long time since I had an eleven-year-old in the house, but you know what?” Pops swishes as he leans forward in his chair.
“What?” I ask.
“Having you here is one change I’m sure glad for,” says Pops. He leans back in his chair. Swish.
“Sibby,” says Nan. “I know you’re having a tough time, but Esther and Charlie have a right to be who they are just like you do. They get to like what they like and talk about what they like to talk about. Honey, you can’t just yell at people when you disagree.”
“They’re just…they’re just always doing the wrong thing,” I insist.
“You didn’t have to eat lunch alone on your first day, or walk to school alone,” says Nan. “And it sounds like Hannah sure tried to help at the skateboard park. Everyone helps the best way they know how.”
“Doesn’t mean anyone has a right to push you around though,” adds Pops. “Good for you for standing up to Freddie. And you can out-skateboard him. Maybe not so smart to bet your shoes on it, but you can beat him.”
“I’m not so sure,” I say.
“There’s a secret to winning, you know,” says Pops. “I bet all the best skateboarders know it.”
“What?” I ask.
“It’s up here.” Pops points to his head. “You start doubting,” he says, “you start losing.”
“But I don’t want to lose my shoes,” I say. “And Freddie is really good. You should have seen him.”
“Two rules,” says Pops. “Ready?”
“I’m not so good with rules,” I say. “But okay, ready.”
“First, don’t think about what someone else can do. Second, don’t think about what you’ll lose,” says Pops. “Just think about riding your skateboard. Hey,” he says, “that reminds me. I didn’t see your skateboard when we unpacked the car.”
“Yeah, um, that’s because I don’t have it,” I say.
“You left your skateboard behind?” says Pops. “Now that doesn’t make one bit of sense.”
“It’s okay,” says Nan. “We’ll remind your parents to bring it when they come.”
“They can’t,” I say. “I broke it.”
“What?” says Pops.
“How?” asks Nan. “Oh, Sibby.”
“Cracked the deck,” I say. “I tried to patch it with glue and Popsicle sticks but…whatever…it didn’t work so well. I can’t ask for a new one, not even for Christmas.”
Pop’s voice sure sounds froggy when he says, “I got it,” after the doorbell rings. He swishes away.
Nan just keeps hugging me and telling me not to give up the thing I love to do.
“Promise,” she whispers.
“I promise,” I tell her, but it’s a promise I don’t know how I can keep.
“Sibby,” calls Pops from the kitchen. “You have a couple of visitors.”
“That’s probably Charlie and Esther,” says Nan.
“Can we order that pizza they like?” I ask. “Margherita?”
But then Pops says, “It’s Hannah and Jake.”
Chapter 13
It’s Me or Freddie
I offer Hannah a muffin, but not Jake. And that makes him look at me like he’s confused.
“What?” I say to him.
“Um.” He raises his arms out to the sides. “Really?”
“Sibby,” says Hannah, “Jake’s here because he’s trying to help.”
“Why?” I ask, and I fold my arms. “What’s the catch?”
“Give him a muffin,” Hannah says under her breath.
“No catch,” says Jake. And then he says, “Thanks,” when I pass him exactly one muffin. Just one because I still don’t know why he’s here and the last time I saw him he was totally on Freddie’s side and not mine.
“So?” I ask again. “Why are you here?”
He takes a bite and then says, “Returning a favor.”
“What favor?” I ask.
“I looked up the Jackson Jo video you told me about,” he says. “She posted it right when my sister, Mom, and I were in the middle of one of our moves.”
“One of? How many times have you moved?” I ask.
“Lost count. We move because of my mom’s job,” he says. “But you were right. Jackson Jo says go regular not slo-mo. I’m going to send it regular. So, thanks and here,” he says and passes me his phone. “I got the whole competition with you and Freddie on video. Hannah says there’s something you need to see.”
“What?” I look at Hannah. “I was there. I already know what happened.”
“Just watch the video, Sibby,” says Hannah.
I press play and watch me doing an ollie and then a kickflip. I hear the music, but the video just shows me skateboarding. Jake zoomed in and out just before and during each trick. I see me getting ready to go up the ramp and I hear things I couldn’t before because the music was so loud. I hear Esther’s voice.
“I know about ollies,” she says. “I read about them.”
“Really?” says Charlie Parker Drysdale.
“Yeah, skateboarding is in Vogue,” she says.
“In vogue?” asks Hannah. “Do you mean like in the magazine?”
“Yeah,” says Esther. “I read them all cover to cover. The cottage can get a little boring when you’re alone.”
“I know about ollies because of Sibby,” says Charlie Parker Drysdale. “She’s been skateboarding as long as I’ve known her. She’s really good.”
“Good as Freddie?” asks Esther. But then she answers the question at the same time as Charlie Parker Drysdale.
“I bet she is,” says Esther when Charlie Parker Drysdale says, “Totally.”
Hearing that makes me feel bad. Sort of. I mean why couldn’t they say that to me instead of when I couldn’t hear them talking?
I let the video play. It shows me stopping and then heading up the ramp to do a rock to fakie.
Next, I see me skating toward the ledge and then, as I’m about to do a backside bluntslide, I hear Ja
ke’s voice telling Freddie, “Text me. I’ll get your stuff.” And then he starts yelling at me to stop.
“I don’t want to watch what comes next,” I say, and I press pause.
Hannah takes the phone.
“Don’t you want to know how I knew what really happened?” she asks. And then she presses play.
“Knew what?” asks Jake. “What do you mean what really happened?”
“We already agreed to a redo,” says Hannah. “So, I guess it doesn’t matter if you know.”
“Know what?” He swallows the last bite of muffin.
“I didn’t bail on the backside bluntslide because you were yelling at me,” I say as I’m looking down at the video. “I bailed because my back foot started to—”
“What? You mean Freddie would’ve won?”
“He left,” says Hannah. “He quit. You can’t win if you quit before a competition is over.”
“He had to,” says Jake.
I stop listening to them because of what I see in the video. I press pause, rewind, and then play. And then I do it again.
I see it now.
I see how Hannah knew.
I pause, rewind, and watch it again. I’m on the ledge. My arms are out to the sides. My back foot is down too far on my board just before I bailed. But my foot isn’t the problem. I mean it is, but it’s not. The real problem is right there on my face. I have that look.
It’s the same look Dad had when we sold our tent and when he was staring at the For Sale sign with the word SOLD slapped over it. It’s like the look Ms. Anderson had when she did a mouth smile without her eyes smiling. It’s weird because that look isn’t about what’s there but about something that’s missing.
“My face,” I say, and I stare at it even closer.
“Your face?” Jake takes the phone and looks at the video again.
All this time, I thought I could hide my insides. But, just like Dad’s, they were right there all over my face telling everyone what I was really feeling.
“My debate coach,” starts Hannah, “says faces can’t lie. If you believe you can’t win, it’ll show. It sure showed, Sibby. Seriously, you looked like you believed you were going to lose before you even started that last trick.”
I think about Pops. “I started doubting,” I say. And then I think about Dad. “Just like he did.”
“Who?” says Hannah.
“My dad,” I say. “He was bullied.”
“He was?” says Hannah.
But then Jake says, “Hold up, I don’t get it.”
“Have you ever been bullied?” I ask.
“Don’t think so,” says Jake.
“You’d know,” I say. “What are you gonna do with the video?” I ask, and I hold his phone in the air.
“I showed it to you,” he says, “and I’m showing it to Freddie too. I mean, the way I see it, you saw him skate, so he should see you. Hey…um…can I use your bathroom? And maybe have another one of those when I come back?” He nods in the direction of the basket of muffins now sitting on the counter.
“Upstairs.” I point to the hallway behind me. “Stairs are back there. And, yeah, I guess you can have another one.”
And then he walks past me and out into the hall.
I’m still holding his phone.
“Let’s see it again,” says Hannah. “My coach says watching yourself is the best way to get better, even though I really don’t like how I look on camera. Which one was it? There.”
She presses play but she’s across the kitchen table from me so she does it looking at the phone upside down.
This time we’re hearing different noises from before. Different as in barely anything. Just the distant sound of a skateboard on pavement.
“That’s weird,” I say.
Hannah takes the phone.
“Why aren’t we hearing the music at least?” I ask.
“Looks like it’s a different video,” says Hannah. “Hey, that’s not the skatepark. That’s—”
And then we hear banging sounds, like a skateboard crashing into the basement door of the school.
I grab the phone. “That’s the back of the school. So, there was a snake. I knew it. He was…oh, gross…he was spying on me? Through the trees.”
“What?” says Hannah. “No. Jake wouldn’t—”
“I knew it wasn’t just Georgie the dog,” I say.
“Oh, my gosh. This is…wow…I mean…super creepy,” says Hannah.
“What a jerk-face. I mean he’s here being all nice making like he’s doing me a favor, but he was spying on me.” And then I start walking toward the stairs.
“Where are you going?” says Hannah. “You can’t bust in on him in the bathroom.”
“Gross,” we both say at the same time.
“Hold on,” she says. “We have to think.”
“About what?” I say. “That…that stalker is using Nan and Pops’ bathroom. What’s wrong with him? He’s no better than jerk-face Freddie!”
“I don’t get him,” says Hannah. “I mean he really seemed like he was trying to help. Why would he—”
“Trying to help Freddie you mean,” I say. “That’s why he’s sending him the video of me at the skatepark today. Freddie will take one look and know I didn’t bail because Jake was yelling at me. He’ll know I bailed because I couldn’t make the trick. And seeing that will make Freddie feel real confident. When you feel confident, you sure don’t make that face.” I point to the phone.
We hear Jake’s voice upstairs and a distant swishing sound.
“He’s coming,” says Hannah.
“No, he’s talking to one of my grandparents,” I say.
I look at the video of me skateboarding in the backyard of the school and fast-forward until the spot where I bailed comes up.
“What are you doing?” asks Hannah.
“Deleting,” I say.
“What? You can’t,” says Hannah. “Jake said he’s sending Freddie the video from the skatepark. Maybe he’s not planning on sending the one in the backyard of the school.”
“Or maybe he is,” I say. “Then Freddie will see that I bailed on the same trick twice in one day. We can’t trust Jake. I mean you’re talking about the same guy that spied on me from behind some trees. That’s just creepy.”
“So you’re going to delete his video?”
“No. I’m only deleting the part where I bailed,” I say. “And I’m sending it to Freddie. Maybe if he thinks I made the trick he won’t want to do it again tomorrow.”
“Oh, no,” says Hannah. “That sounds like a terrible idea.”
I press the Share button and tap the Message icon.
“Sibby, think this through.”
“You’re right,” I say. “The message has to explain why the video ends when I’m in mid-air.”
“Not what I meant,” says Hannah.
I type, “Saw her land. Someone came. Couldn’t keep shooting. She’s no poser. Real deal.” I don’t know Freddie’s number so I type his name until it appears in the field marked “To.”
Hannah is telling me about all the things that make what I am about to do a really bad move.
“…and what if Freddie texts Jake back? Then he’ll know it was us,” she argues.
I ignore everything Hannah is saying until she asks, “Sibby. Is this really you?”
I look at Hannah. “I’m…I don’t know.”
Maybe sending this means I’m as bad as Freddie is for bullying and as bad as Jake is for spying. Maybe I should try to be more like Vera. She’d be chill. She wouldn’t do this. Nan and Pops wouldn’t either. I shouldn’t. My thumb is closer to the button that will delete the text message than it is to the one that will send it.
We hear Jake coming down the stairs.
And then my brain
starts picturing Freddie being a bully. And I start remembering all the trouble that bullies cause.
I can’t stand that this bully—my bully—might win. I can’t stand that he’ll get more confidence watching me lose mine.
“Sibby?” says Hannah.
“What would you do if this was a debate you needed to win?” I ask her. “Seriously needed to win.”
“I…um…” Hannah stutters. “I…”
It’s me or Freddie, I tell myself.
“I wouldn’t,” she says just as I press Send.
“Too late,” I say.
“Your grandparents sure are nice,” says Jake and then he reaches for another muffin before sitting down again.
Hannah and I are just staring at him.
“What?” he says.
Chapter 14
Scary Stuff
On our way to school, Charlie Parker Drysdale is talking about how he’s still mad at me, but his mothers told him he had to walk to school with me anyway and blah, blah, blah. He is wearing a yellow sweater-vest over a yellow T-shirt. He sure is bright, like the sun with arms and legs.
“I mean, yeah, I tell stuff,” he says. His hands are waving in front of him as he talks, “But it just comes out. It’s how I think. Mom and Mama both say some people think best by talking. I mean maybe you don’t, but I do, so stuff comes out.”
I can’t listen anymore. I keep thinking about Jake’s phone and how I shouldn’t have sent the video to Freddie. I wish I could take it all back. All sorts of thoughts are running around in my head.
What if Jake and Freddie talked last night?
What if Jake told Freddie all about how I bailed in the backyard and Freddie gets more confidence even without seeing the video?
What if Nan and Pops find out?
What if Vera finds out I broke my one rule: Skateboarders help each other.
What if deleting parts of videos and sending fake texts is who I am now?
But then I start thinking about Jake spying on me and I get mad all over again. I mean he seemed so nice coming over last night saying he was trying to help.
Some help.
When we walk into the classroom, I put my helmet on the shelf beside Esther’s. Next, I hang my backpack on a hook. Knee and elbow pads are inside. Instead of three skateboards, today there are only two. The ghost board and another that is either Freddie’s or Jake’s. Their boards look exactly the same. I glance around the room. I don’t see Freddie but I see Jake sitting at his desk talking to Hannah. I can only see the sides of their heads. Jake looks the same as always and Hannah is smiling. And that can only mean one thing.
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