Snowboard Champ

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Snowboard Champ Page 3

by Matt Christopher


  He could hear Spengler’s voice in his head: “Baaa . . . baaa . . . ”

  The rest of the morning passed in a blur. Spengler was in his Spanish class, but since Matt was assigned a seat on the other side of the room from him, they didn’t speak. Still, Matt took a moment to really look Spengler over.

  Spengler wasn’t good-looking, and Matt knew that many kids would make fun of him just for that. He dressed differently from the others, too, but he took his look further than just clothes. Spengler went to extremes — the nose ring and the eyebrow ring were a bit much for Matt’s taste, and the kids here, he could tell, were even less down with it.

  Come to think of it, Matt didn’t see any kids here with spiky green hair or black gothic makeup or anything like that. It was a small school — there couldn’t have been more than a few hundred kids altogether — and Spengler was the only one who seemed so set apart from the others.

  In English, Matt sat next to Nelson. Nelson gave him a high-five welcome and spoke to Matt in what he must have thought sounded like genuine inner-city lingo. “Yo, bro, wuzzup?” he asked Matt, bopping his head and grinning knowingly. “You be my dog?”

  “Hey,” Matt said, but gave no other reaction. He could tell Nelson was making fun of him, showing off for the other kids. But to him, Nelson just looked ridiculous, trying to be something he was most definitely not.

  Then again, Matt suddenly realized, wasn’t he thinking of doing the same thing? Hadn’t he thought about trading in his clothes for a new, freshly creased pair of Dockers, a polo shirt, and a V-neck sweater? He blew out a big breath as he sat down at his desk. This was hard, this fitting-in business. He wished again, with all his heart, that his mother had turned down that stupid job with the government.

  At lunch, he caught his first sight of Riley Hammett. The cafeteria itself was pretty small compared to the one at Matt’s old school. Riley sat at a table in the center of the room, in the middle of a large group of kids. When Matt walked by on his way to the food line, every head at the table swiveled to follow his progress. A low murmuring began, and he knew they were talking about him again.

  But what were they saying? He was dying to know, even if the answer was something horrible. The worst thing was not knowing.

  The girl from homeroom with the huge green eyes got in the lunch line behind him. “Um, hi,” she said, giving him a tentative smile. “You’re Matt, right?”

  “Right.”

  “I’m Melissa. Melissa McCarthney.”

  “Matt Harper.” They shook hands awkwardly.

  “You and your family just moved to town?”

  “Yeah. Well, not my family. Just me, actually.”

  “Just you?”

  They’d reached the place in line where you ordered. “What’s good here?” he asked her.

  “Good? Nothing.” She laughed, and so did he. “Well, let’s put it this way — what’s not poisonous?”

  “Try the pasta,” she said. “It’s hard to kill pasta, and it probably won’t kill you.”

  He ordered the pasta, and so did she. Weird, getting a choice of things to eat. In the cafeteria back home, you ate what they gave you — and it was real slop, too. Not like here. This at least looked like real food, even if everyone still complained about it.

  Everyone, everywhere, complained about cafeteria food, he knew. So he didn’t take the girl’s remark too seriously. She was nice, he thought, to come up and introduce herself. She must have guessed how he felt, being the new kid. He wondered if she was just curious, or if maybe she thought he was cute or something. He hoped so, because he sure thought she was.

  “So, you’re like, living with who, exactly?” she asked him.

  “My Uncle Clayton. He’s really cool.”

  “Uh-huh.” She looked faintly troubled for him. “But, um, your mom and dad . . . ?”

  “They’re divorced,” Matt told her. “My mom’s away in Asia for a year, and I didn’t want to go. She’s on some big government job.”

  “What kind?”

  “I dunno, she didn’t exactly explain,” Matt said with a shrug.

  “Maybe she’s a spy,” Melissa said, giving him an excited look. “You should’ve gone with her. You could’ve been a spy, too.”

  Matt laughed, although he didn’t find it funny. It was just that he’d thought the same thing. Wouldn’t that be something — his mom, a real spy?

  “What about your dad?”

  “Huh?”

  “How come you didn’t go live with him?”

  “I didn’t want to, that’s all.” His tone of voice must have told her not to ask any more questions about it, because she quickly changed the subject.

  “So, what do you think of this place?”

  “The area, or the school?” he asked her, fishing in his pocket for lunch money.

  “Both, I guess.”

  “I don’t know about the school yet,” he said. “But the valley is cool. I like snow.”

  “Yeah, I guess you pretty much have to around here. Did you get much snow back in Chicago?”

  “Not enough to go snowboarding. Anyway, there aren’t any hills.”

  “You snowboard?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Cool!” she said. “I used to board, but this year, I’ve been so busy I haven’t had time.”

  He followed her to a table and sat down across from her. There were no other kids near them. He could feel her eyes on him, checking him out. He didn’t know what to say, so he concentrated on his pasta.

  “Maybe we could go boarding sometime,” he heard her say.

  He looked up, hoping his face wasn’t all red from blushing. “You mean together?”

  She shrugged. “If you want to.”

  “Yeah, that’d be all right,” he answered, trying not to sound as pleased as he felt.

  “How about Sunday?” she asked.

  “Uh, sure! Sunday’d be fine.”

  “Great.” She gave him a look that melted him. “Give me your address, and my mom will drive us.”

  He wrote it down for her.

  “See you then!” she said. “Gotta go now.”

  He stared after her, trying to wipe the smile off his face. “See you before then,” he said under his breath. “Way before.”

  The giggly redheaded girl from the slopes who’d been sitting with Riley and the others caught up to Matt on the way out of the cafeteria. “Hi,” she said. “We haven’t met. I’m Courtney.”

  “Matt Harper.” He didn’t remind her that they actually had met when he’d barreled into Riley.

  “I hear you’re from Chicago,” she said. “What’s it like there?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve never been to a city that big. Is it full of gangs and crime and stuff?”

  He laughed. “I don’t know. There’s some, I guess, but it’s cool living there. Lots of stuff to do.”

  “And did you . . . ?” she asked, giving him a sideways glance.

  “I don’t get you.”

  “Did you do stuff? You know, bad stuff ?”

  He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “What do I look like?” he asked her. “A criminal or something?”

  She frowned. “Well, don’t get all touchy. I was just asking. I didn’t mean to pry.”

  “Well,” Matt said, “Just for your information, Chicago’s great. It’s way better than here in every way, except for the fact that you can snowboard here.”

  He half expected her to be offended, but she seemed not to be. “You snowboard?” she asked. “Cool. Are you any good?”

  “I’m all right,” he said.

  She made a laughing sound but didn’t smile. “You should meet Riley Hammett,” she said. “He’s the best boarder in the whole school.”

  Matt let out a sigh. “Yeah, I kind of already met him.”

  She looked surprised. “Oh, so, you guys are friends?”

  Matt cleared his throat. “Not exactly.” Incredible that she didn’t recog
nize him from the other day — but lucky for him!

  “Oh. Too bad.”

  “Why?” he asked her. “What’s the deal with Riley, anyway?”

  “Well, let’s put it this way,” she said. “Riley’s a cool friend to have, but you don’t want to get on his bad side.”

  “Oh. I see,” he said, adding silently, Too late.

  4

  In gym class, Riley and Matt wound up on the same team for indoor soccer. To Matt’s amazement, as they lined up next to each other at the start of play, Riley seemed not to recognize him. First Courtney, now Riley. Hmmm . . .

  Maybe my helmet and snow goggles hid my face enough to disguise me, Matt thought. Or maybe Riley just didn’t get that close a look — or maybe he’d forgotten all about it!

  Matt considered himself a pretty fair soccer player, but of course, nobody here knew that, so nobody passed him the ball. Matt contented himself with playing good defense, and after one difficult block, he heard Riley say, “All right! Nice play!”

  Good, he thought. He could start fresh and make friends with the kid, and everything would be okay.

  Riley came over to him after class and said, “Hey.”

  “Name’s Matt,” Matt said.

  “Riley,” said Riley, shaking his hand. “You’re new, huh?”

  “Yup.”

  “Funny, I could swear I’ve seen you before somewhere.”

  “I don’t think so,” Matt lied.

  Riley shook his head. “I know I’ve seen you. Ah, never mind, I’ll think of it sooner or later.”

  Matt swallowed hard.

  “I hear you’re from Chicago.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I guess you think you’re pretty tough, huh?” He stared hard at Matt.

  “I guess so,” Matt said. “Depends on what you mean by tough.”

  “I like the way you blocked that kick. Got the body right in there.”

  “Oh, that. Yeah, I guess I’m tough, then.”

  Riley nodded. “Cool. I respect that. You don’t mess with me, I don’t mess with you, okay?”

  Again, Matt was mystified, but he just said, “Okay.”

  “Good. Then stay away from Melissa.”

  “Melissa?”

  “Melissa McCarthney. Don’t act dumb with me.”

  “What is she, your girlfriend or something?” Matt asked.

  “None of your beeswax,” said Riley. “Well, nice meeting you. Catch you later.”

  Matt stared after Riley’s retreating figure, feeling like he’d somehow done something wrong even though all he’d done was talk to some girl he didn’t even know! He vowed to steer clear of Riley if they crossed paths again that day.

  Luckily, they didn’t. Still, it was only when he had finally arrived back at home and thrown his leather jacket over the back of one of Uncle Clayton’s kitchen chairs that Matt finally felt himself relax. He was pouring a glass of milk when the phone rang.

  “Hi, honey, it’s me.”

  “Mom!”

  “Matt, how’s it going there? Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Uncle Clayton says you’re settling in nicely.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “How’s school? You started today, didn’t you?”

  “It’s okay.”

  “Just okay?”

  “Mom, I don’t know yet. I’ve only been in class one day.”

  “Well, do you like your classes? Your teachers?” “They’re fine.”

  “Made any new friends yet?”

  “Yeah, lots and lots of ’em. Mom, cut it out, okay? I just got here!”

  “Baby, you know, you’ve got to make an effort. If you’re friendly, people will be friendly back.”

  “Yes, Mom.”

  “And don’t ‘yes’ me, Matthew. I’m just trying to be helpful.”

  Yeah? Then why did you go away? he thought. “Hey, Mom, you never did tell me about your job before you left.”

  “Oh, well, it’s complicated, honey,” she said, “and this call’s so expensive. I’ll write you all about it, okay?”

  “Sure . . . Mom, you’re not a spy or something, are you?” he asked suddenly.

  She laughed — nervously, he thought. “Matthew, whatever would make you ask a thing like that?”

  “Well, are you?”

  “Don’t be silly,” she said. “You’re letting your imagination run away with you. I told you, I’ll write to you about what I’m doing in great detail. For now, you just concentrate on you.”

  Agent Harper walks down the main street of the town, the hood of her jacket pulled up over her head. As she goes, she looks this way and that, her eyes full of tension. Under her arm, she carries a package bound with string. She holds it tightly, as if someone might try to take it away from her. And that must not happen — for inside that package is the prototype for the anti-terror nexus control, vital to the defense of the free world!

  A black car pulls around the corner, its tires screeching. Now it’s coming up behind her, faster and faster. She runs, but it gains on her. She has only seconds to evade it — there! That alleyway! She cuts into it, running for her life. Then she stops. At the end of the alley, the town gives way to the alpine snowfields. She cannot get anywhere on them without skis — and she has no skis.

  The black car screeches to a halt and two men get out, brandishing guns. They run down the alley after her.

  She steps onto the snowfield, stumbling forward. They are close now. They point their guns at her.

  SWOOSH! She is swept up into someone’s arms — someone on a snowboard, in a black and red outfit. “Wh-who are you?” she asks.

  “Call me Snowboard Champ, Agent Harper,” says her rescuer. “Where can I drop you off?”

  He deposits her safely at the edge of the forest path. “Just follow that path to the next town,” he tells her. Then he pushes off, back into the white alpine wilderness.

  Agent Harper stares after him. “I wonder who he really is,” she says to herself.

  If she only knew!

  5

  The phone call from his mom had thrown Matt off stride. Here he was, trying to look ahead, make new friends, get adjusted. Hearing her voice pulled him right back into missing Chicago and his home. Maybe it was the bright neon lights from the street below or maybe it was being homesick, but he didn’t sleep well that night.

  “Everything okay, dude?” Uncle Clayton asked him over breakfast the next morning.

  “Huh? Yeah, why?”

  “I don’t know . . . you look a little out of it.”

  “I’m okay,” Matt assured him.

  “Did you have a good talk with your mom?” he asked, watching Matt closely. “I guess she likes her new job.”

  “I guess,” Matt grunted. He avoided his uncle’s gaze. Clay was silent for a moment, then he drained his coffee cup and said, “Well, I like my job, too. So I’d best be off.” He grabbed some architectural drawings from his drafting table, rolled them up, and stuffed them into cardboard tubes. “Hey, you wanna go boarding Sunday? Do a few jumps, maybe tame the half-pipe?”

  “Sure!” Matt said, instantly cheering up. But then he remembered. “Oh, wait, could we maybe go on Saturday? I kind of told this girl in school I’d go with her on Sunday,” he said.

  Clay shot Matt a grin. “Really?”

  “It’s nothing,” Matt said, feeling the blood rush to his cheeks. “I mean, she just asked me if I wanted to go boarding with her.”

  “Impressive,” Clay said in the same gently teasing manner. “She asked you?”

  “Yeah, but I don’t know. There’s this other kid . . . .”

  “Sounds complicated,” Clay said, bundling the tubes under his arm and fishing his car keys out of his pocket. “I want to hear all about it tonight. How about over dinner at Bulko Burger?”

  “I’m there!” Matt said, returning Clay’s smile. His mom would never in a million years have taken him to Bulko Burger.

  On the b
us ride to school, he sat near Spengler again. He knew everyone on the bus was pegging him as a loser for making friends with Spengler, but he didn’t see any of them rushing to get to know him. In fact, so far only Melissa and Spengler had shown him any kind of friendship.

  And what was so awful about Spengler anyway? At least he had a sense of humor. Besides, Matt didn’t have the heart to pretend he didn’t see him back there, all alone. And after all, Matt wasn’t a sheep, was he? He could sit wherever he wanted.

  “How’s it going?” he asked Spengler.

  “Foot in front of foot,” Spengler replied. “Getting by.” “I hear you,” Matt said.

  “How about you? Everyone making nice-nice to the new kid?”

  “Not everyone,” Matt admitted. “You know how it is.” “Oh, I do.” Spengler nodded sadly.

  “Hey, I never asked you. How’d you break your arm?” Spengler snorted. “Snowboarding.”

  Matt waited for him to tell the story, but Spengler didn’t, and then they were at the school.

  Well, he’d survived the bus ride, at any rate.

  Going snowboarding with Melissa was another thing, however. He was starting to think it was not such a good idea. Riley had warned him to stay away from her, and Matt had already had one run-in with Riley. He sure wasn’t looking for another. He believed Courtney when she said it was not a good idea to get on his bad side.

  Maybe Melissa would forget she’d asked him to go. He could pretend he’d forgotten, too. He’d go boarding with Uncle Clayton, and Riley wouldn’t bother him.

  But Melissa was waiting for him in homeroom. With Abby watching the whole thing from her desk, Melissa came right up to him and said, “Hi, Matt!”

  “Oh, hi,” he said, giving her a pathetic little wave. “So I talked with my mom about us boarding on Sunday. Is it okay if we pick you up at ten o’clock?” she asked. Her big green eyes bore right through his brain, burning out whatever brain cells were primed to turn and run.

  “Yeah, ten’s good,” he said. “But, um, could I talk to you for a minute in private?”

  “Sure. Why, what’s up?” she asked, as he led her toward the back of the classroom and away from Abby.

  “What’s with you and Riley Hammett?” he asked her point-blank.

 

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