For the most part, Danny had been keeping close to the house since his big run-in with Raul and David Bartell. Bobby told him he’d seen Raul only once, walking up Redondo Beach Boulevard with Bartell and Louie, but the three hadn’t seen him. “He’s been hanging with Louie a lot lately,” he explained. “Louie’s brothers deal Quaaludes, so he’s been getting stoned there almost every day.”
That suited Danny just fine. So when Bobby dropped by Danny’s house one afternoon with Jerry Valdez, skateboards in hand, and invited Danny to accompany them to the giant pipe that lay in the sewer system off Crenshaw, Danny jumped at the chance. Tina was visiting their father, and Mom wouldn’t be home from work till nearly eight she was having dinner with a friend immediately after work and had instructed Danny to be home before eight p.m. Bobby and Jerry had shown up to the house at two. “Let me get my stuff,” Danny had said.
There was no reason to think Raul would follow them to the drainage ditch. They would be heading away from the Valesquez house, half a block down Redondo Beach Boulevard, and then a quick left down Crenshaw. They’d be out of site of the development in under ten minutes. Besides, Raul Valesquez wasn’t into skateboarding the way Danny, Bobby, and Jerry were. Danny had seen him ride one, of course, and Raul was competent enough to get around, but he’d never seen him do any stunts or skate an empty pool. The only thing on Danny’s mind that afternoon was seeing if this pipe really existed and, if it did and was skateable, riding the fuck out of it.
When they reached the chain-link fence where the drainage ditch lay, Bobby watched for traffic, and when the Boulevard was clear he gave the signal. Danny and Jerry quickly vaulted the fence with their skateboards, threw their helmets over, and dropped down to the other side. Bobby quickly followed. Then they went beneath Crenshaw Boulevard and headed west.
They skated down the path that lined the rim of the ditch. “Pipe’s about half a mile down, right beneath an overpass,” Jerry said, cruising on his custom-made oak board. Bobby and Danny followed along, excited at the prospect of finally finding a spot to skate nobody else knew about.
“And nobody knows about this place?” Bobby asked.
“That’s right,” Jerry said. His long, black hair blew behind him. He was wearing a blue Ocean Pacific T-shirt and blue corduroy shorts. “You’d think it would have been found by now, but it hasn’t. At least as far as I know. I’ve kept it to myself now for six months and haven’t told anybody about it except you guys.” He looked back at them. “And I know you guys can keep a secret. I mean, you didn’t squeal about the Fruit Bowl, so I know you guys are cool.”
The Fruit Bowl...that had been a coveted skate spot since a friend of Jerry’s discovered it this past winter. Located in the backyard of a large house in Palos Verdes, it had been drained that autumn and, thanks to its location, was a prime spot. The neighborhood was upper-middle class, and weekday afternoons were the best time to skate it since the residents were away at high-level jobs during the day. Danny still didn’t know who the owner of the house was, and he couldn’t believe nobody else had discovered it yet. It was hidden from view by a thick fence of shrubbery. The last time Jerry drove himself and Bobby down there, he’d brought a budding photographer down with him, a guy named Glen Freeman, who was desperately trying to get his photos published in magazines. That afternoon Glen shot a few rolls of film of all three of them skating the Fruit Bowl and promised them he was sending the photos to Skateboarder magazine. Jerry thought they had a pretty good chance of having at least one of the photos published in an upcoming issue — all three of them had skated extremely well that afternoon.
When they reached the underpass, Danny looked down into the drainage ditch, but didn’t see anything. Jerry darted to the right and disappeared. Danny stopped, his eyes adjusting to the dark, and Bobby stood beside him, peering at the spot where Jerry had vanished. A moment later Jerry’s voice floated up from the darkness. “There’s a staircase here that leads to the bottom. There’s no light; just follow me!”
Tentatively, the boys followed Jerry down the narrow concrete staircase. Danny felt immediately hemmed in, claustrophobic, as he followed Bobby. He had to step carefully and keep his right hand on the damp concrete wall beside him to figure out the curves of the staircase, and before he knew it, he was at the bottom of the drainage ditch underneath the overpass.
There was a small puddle of water on the ground to their right. In front of them lay the empty bed of the drainage ditch. When Danny heard Bobby exclaim, “Holy shit, look at the size of that thing!” he turned around.
Chiseled fifteen feet away from the mouth of the staircase that led to the bottom of the drainage ditch was the mouth of an enormous concrete sewer pipe. It had to be at least twenty feet high. The ones that were featured in that photo-essay in Skateboarder magazine a few months ago were that big, and this one looked as gigantic as those desert monsters. “Hot Damn! That is awesome!”
Danny and Bobby stepped into the pipe, excited at the prospect. Jerry grinned and skated inside, already beginning to pump up and down both sides of the pipe, using the push of his legs to further launch himself up the walls. “Completely dry at the bottom, as always!”
Bobby and Danny watched for a moment as Jerry completed his run. He was helmet-less for now, and the highest he ventured was the vertical mark. Danny was awestruck at the size of the pipe. It was definitely as big as the concrete pipes in the Arizona desert featured in that Skateboarder article.
“I can’t believe nobody knows about this,” Bobby said, as Jerry finished and skated over to them. The older boy strapped on his red helmet. Bobby looked at Jerry, his features baffled. “I mean...this is awesome!”
“No shit, man,” Jerry said. He had put knee pads on before they even arrived at Danny’s house, and now Danny strapped on his own helmet, the excitement rising.
“Well, here goes nothing,” Bobby said. Helmet fastened, knee and elbow pads in place, Bobby kicked off and, after half a dozen rocking moves that propelled him swiftly back and forth up the pipe’s curves, Bobby was soon making serious headway. He reached the vertical limit quickly and was soon hitting above that. Danny whopped in encouragement, feeling the adrenaline rush as his friend pushed himself to new heights in his ability as a vertical skater. When Bobby finished, he was grinning. “Fuck, that’s a smooth ride!”
“Go for it, Danny,” Jerry said, nodding.
Danny set off on his first run the way he was always did when skating a new spot: cautiously. He was more comfortable making his turns backside as he see-sawed back and forth, and the more comfortable he grew with the texture of the concrete beneath the urethane wheels of his skateboard, the bolder he became. He hit the vertical spot and felt the wind rush through his hair as he sped down the wall and raced up the opposing one. For a minute he was the only one in the universe; just him on his skateboard, riding the concrete walls of a giant pipe. He cut his run short to get the feel of vertical skating under him, and then Jerry pushed off the minute Danny was through.
They skated the pipe for a good thirty minutes, each of them taking turns as they pushed each other to new limits. Danny watched in awe as Jerry hit the ten o’clock mark on the pipe, his heart stopping in his chest as he tried to gather up the courage to propel himself that high. He didn’t think he had the ability, but Bobby was certain he could do it. “Check it out,” Bobby said after Jerry came back from a dizzying run. Sure enough, Bobby took to pipe skating like a natural, front side and back. Within moments, Bobby was hitting well above the vertical mark, between nine and ten o’clock on the pipe, and on his last run he made a backside turn, right hand touching the sloping ceiling of the pipe at the ten o’clock mark. Danny felt a mixture of fear and pride for his friend. Despite their athletic abilities as skateboarders, Danny still recognized the dangers that could befall them should one of them miscalculate and have an accident. Fortunately, all three boys knew how to fall well, and so far they had not needed to put their defensive skills to the tes
t. Danny didn’t think they’d be able to handle eating it suddenly at the ten or—God forbid—the eleven o’clock mark on a pipe, taking a fifteen-foot free-fall drop to the bottom.
Jerry was just about to start his next run when Danny saw a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned to the spot near the pipe and started as a figure emerged from the staircase hidden in the shadowy depths, and then his heart froze in his chest as Raul Valesquez stepped into the drainage ditch.
Raul looked around at their newly-found skate spot with a sense of detachment; his eyes were blank, empty. He was dressed in his usual tattered blue jeans, scuffed sneakers and dirty t-shirt, his hair long and stringy and looking unwashed. Raul’s gaze swept the area and rested on Danny. “What’s up?”
Danny was frozen; he didn’t know what to say. Bobby stood beside him, trying not too look too surprised or afraid. Only Jerry Valdez looked like he wasn’t threatened by Raul’s presence. He answered back. “Not much, man. How you doing?”
“Okay,” Raul said, looking at Jerry for a moment, then turning his gaze back to Bobby and Danny. “I followed you guys down here. I wanted to see where you skate.”
Danny was confused and scared. His instincts were telling him to pick up his skateboard and get the hell out of here. He could tell Bobby felt the same way; his friend held his skateboard in his arms, looking like he was ready to split.
Jerry answered him again. “This is where we skate. You like it?”
Raul looked at the massive pipe. His face still bore that look of indifference; there was no awe or excitement in it. “Cool.”
“You ride?” Jerry asked.
“A little.” Raul was still looking at the pipe, and Danny and Bobby traded glances. What the fuck is Jerry doing engaging in conversation with this psycho? Danny glanced at Jerry, who ignored him. The older boy’s attention was on Raul. To Danny, Jerry was playing the part of the adult, the big brother. Jerry was easily five years older than Raul and was physically bigger and stronger—there was no reason for him to be afraid of him. But surely he would have had to heard the stories and know what Raul’s reputation was like.
“You didn’t bring a skate,” Jerry said. He reached into his pockets for a crumpled pack of cigarettes and lit one with a match. He pushed his own skateboard toward Raul with his foot. “Want to try?”
Raul looked down at the skateboard and shrugged. “Sure.”
Danny and Bobby glanced at each other again and then watched as Raul rode into the pipe. Having never seen Raul ride vertical before, Danny didn’t know what to expect. It was obvious from the way he stood on the board, one foot over the rear trucks, the other slightly behind the front trucks, that he had his balance right and most likely used his own skateboard for tooling around the neighborhood. As an accomplished skater of the caliber Danny and Bobby were trying to achieve, Raul was nowhere close. His first few turns in the pipe were made with a wobbly gait. Jerry watched calmly, smoking his cigarette. “Slow and easy is the way to do it,” he said, walking into the pipe. “Don’t try to go too high if you aren’t used to it. It takes practice.”
“I can do it,” Raul said. He at least knew how to do a kick turn, and he was doing those fairly well on the walls of the pipe, using the maneuver to turn himself back around and shoot down the pipe toward the opposite wall.
Jerry stepped back and watched as Raul grimly set about the task of learning to master vertical skating. At one point, Bobby asked Jerry for a cigarette and Jerry gave him one. For a novice, Raul wasn’t bad. He had guts and determination, which weighed heavily in his favor when it came to performing the kind of maneuvers a novice wouldn’t even attempt. Danny wondered if maybe Raul was stoned out of his mind. There was something about that blank stare of his, as if he were some kind of zombie, that got to him.
Raul skated the walls of the pipe for a good ten minutes before calling it quits. He pushed the skateboard back to Jerry. “Thanks. Who’s next?”
When Bobby and Danny didn’t rise to the occasion, Jerry shrugged and strapped his helmet back on. “Here goes,” he said, pushing himself off and hitting the nine o’clock spot with his first few runs.
“Fuck, he’s good,” Raul said, for the first time looking awestruck.
‘Yeah, he is,” Bobby said. Danny glanced at Bobby, who met his gaze quickly and turned back to Jerry.
“I’ve always wanted to skate that good,” Raul said, still watching Jerry. “I’ve seen pictures in those skateboard magazines of guys riding in pools and shit and they’re so fucking awesome.”
“Yeah, they are,” Bobby said. He finished the cigarette and dropped it on the ground.
“You got a cigarette?” Raul asked.
“I got it from Jerry.”
Raul nodded and turned back to watch Jerry.
Danny felt the way a rabbit must feel when a snake was stationed outside its hole. His nerves were on fire, his belly felt like lead, and he had no idea what the hell was going to happen or why Raul hadn’t tried to fuck with them, but so far he hadn’t. What surprised him the most was how goddamned normal Raul was appearing. Raul wasn’t exactly known for his friendliness. In all the times Danny had run across him on his paper route or tooling around the neighborhood on his skateboard, Raul was always aggressive. Not so this time. It was almost as if a completely different kid had stepped inside Raul’s skin and was piloting him.
Jerry was hitting the ten o’clock spot and Raul yelled a whoop of approval. Bobby yelled “Alright!” and Danny clapped half-heartedly. This was some weird shit—Raul was actually being friendly!
When Jerry finished, he skated over to them. “Who’s next?”
“Me!” Bobby pushed off and skated into the pipe, heading up the wall in a front side maneuver to begin the ride.
“Can I have a cigarette?” Raul asked Jerry.
“Sure.” Jerry dug into his pockets for a cigarette and handed him one. He lit it for Raul, who cupped his hands around the flame to get it going.
“Thanks,” he said, taking a drag, and now in the brief flare of light from the burning cigarette, Danny could see the familiar outlines of Raul’s face, and in that split second the Raul Valesquez he knew and feared was looking at him. Raul turned to him, his brown eyes more alive, his gaze more direct, that vacant expression now gone. “You going next, Danny?”
“Yeah, sure,” Danny said, not knowing what else to say.
“You did pretty good last time out,” Jerry said.
“Yeah, I guess I did.”
They watched Bobby silently. Danny tried to control his fear. Having Raul Valesquez so close to him was nerve-wracking. When Bobby was finished, Danny took a deep breath and skated toward the pipe, trying to combat his nerves. He could feel the eyes of the other boys on him as he began his run. He was cautious, half expecting to see Raul dart into the pipe, maybe push Bobby’s skateboard into his path just as he was shooting down one of the steep walls, but he never did. Nevertheless, he played it safe this run and only allowed himself to reach the vertical mark. Raul yelled. “Awesome, Hernandez!” This made him wonder if he wasn’t perhaps jumping to conclusions.
When he was finished, he returned to where the other three boys were gathered. Raul finished the cigarette. “Damn, you’re pretty fucking good, Danny.”
“Thanks.” Danny tried to suppress the grin that wanted to break out. He knew he was good; if only he’d had the guts to let loose he would have blown Raul away. Maybe that was the ticket to winning him over. Showing him how daring he was, how good he was as a skateboarder. It would demonstrate to Raul that he had a sense of craziness, a sense that he was daring and could be cool.
“Can I try yours?” Raul asked, motioning to Danny’s skateboard.
“Sure.” Part of Danny said, don’t let him ride your skateboard, he’s gonna fuck it up, but he slid it over to Raul, who set off into the pipe.
Raul did better on this second run. Jerry stepped closer into the pipe to give him encouraging remarks. Bobby chimed in
with a few of his own. Danny was still being cautious and could only watch with bated breath as Raul made a serious attempt at skating the steep walls of the sewer pipe. His technique was getting better, and he was getting used to the torque as he shot back and forth in the pipe. When he was finished, he rode back to Danny. “Thanks, man.”
“No problem,” Danny said, and now he knew he was losing his mind because he could tell his mouth was running a mile a minute and he wasn’t even thinking about what he was saying. “You’re getting better. Your balance is good and your moves are getting more confident. Keep at it.”
“Thanks.” He regarded Danny with that look he always had, and even though it looked menacing—Raul always looked menacing—there was something about him today that was different. There was a sense of softness in him, as if he was trying to be friendly and was having a good time.
Danny didn’t want to set him off or get on his bad side, so he merely grinned and motioned toward the pipe. “What I really want is to be as good as Jerry.”
Jerry started his run again and was at the ten o’clock mark in no time. “Yeah, he’s fucking awesome,” Raul said.
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