“Yeah.” I shrug, trying to play it cool, like I don’t care either way. But I’m excited. I’ve been working on my ollie for weeks. And I love when Ryan lets me come to the skate park with him.
Ry grabs my hand and pulls me into the concrete park, past the half-pipe and the handrail, and leads me to a flat area to practice. I see a group of freshmen girls who went to my school last year sitting on the bleachers, snickering to each other when we pass, and a few boys from my school giving us curious glances. But, I don’t care. No one will try anything with Ryan here.
“All right, Rem. Show me your stance.”
I do.
“Lead with your right. You’re goofy-footed, remember? That can get tricky, but we’re just doing stationary ollies for now.”
I shift my feet.
“Like this?” I ask, tucking my long hair behind my ear.
“Good. Okay, now pop the tail back, then slide your front foot up the board and push forward.”
I try, but I barely make it off the ground.
“Close. Try again. This time scoot your front foot away from the bolts a little so you have more room to slide. Pop, slide, push.”
I try again, but this time I almost fall on my butt.
“Ugh!” I groan, frustrated.
“Here. Hold on to me. You’re scared of falling, and that’s half the problem,” Ry says, grabbing both of my hands. “I won’t let you fall, Rem. Try again.”
I take a deep breath. Ryan’s right, because this time, when I don’t have to worry about falling, I land it. I don’t get much, if any, air, but I freaking land it.
“Good job.” Ryan smiles, and I squeal, throwing my arms around his neck.
“I wanna do it again. This time on my own.”
“Let’s see it.” He smirks, his arms crossed over his chest.
I land it again.
“Fuck yeah, Rem!” He laughs proudly.
“Yo! Ryan!” Ethan yells from his place next to the freshmen girls, waving him over.
“Be right back. Keep practicing,” he says, pointing a finger at me as he walks away.
I try a few more times and get a little better with each attempt. I’m feeling brave, like a badass, and I decide to try to ollie over the little rail a few feet away.
The first time, I bail because I don’t have enough speed. The second time, I bail because I don’t have enough courage. The third time, I almost make it over the rail. The fourth time, I’m feeling good, and just when I’m about to slide my front foot, I feel something warm trickle down my leg. It distracts me, and I miss my jump. My board hits the rail and sends me flying forward. I land at the feet of one of the older boys I don’t recognize.
“Sick!” he yells, nudging me away from him with his foot. “This is why we shouldn’t let bitches in the skate park.” His friends laugh, and I’m more confused than anything. They’re all laughing and pointing now, and when I look down, I’m horrified to see blood between my legs. But I don’t feel hurt. Not there, anyway.
A couple of the girls from my school make their way over to see what’s going on, iced coffees in hand.
“Fucking gross, Remington! Plug that shit up,” one of them says with a scrunched nose. I think her name is Sydney.
Sydney is an asshole.
My ankle is screaming in pain, and I’m trying to keep from crying, but my bottom lip starts to tremble, and my vision blurs with tears.
“Somebody come get their girl! She’s bleeding all over the park,” the guy from earlier yells. I reach for my board, embarrassed and in pain. I struggle to get up, and no one offers to help me. Suddenly, the boy in front of me looks terrified. Straight up, about to piss his pants afraid. And then I know why.
As usual, Ryan shoots first and asks questions later. He charges the kid, landing one solid punch to the face and he’s out cold. He hits the pavement like a sack of potatoes, and everyone gasps.