Nellie and I play a game of Checkers. She beats me, but that still doesn’t cheer her up. I challenge her to a funny face competition, hoping that’ll make her feel better. We aren’t sure of the winner, but both of us end up in a much better mood. I love hanging out with Nellie. When she stops coming to camp, I will miss her so much.
Before I leave, Miss Robyn hands me a note. “It’s about a prince and princess party we’re having next Tuesday,” she says. “It’s Nellie’s last day. Mrs. O’Malley tells me Nellie’s been in an awful state. She doesn’t understand why she has to leave. I thought it would be nice to make her last day one she’ll always remember. We’ll have tea and cake, wear costumes, and turn this place into a castle with all the trimmings. Can you and Odelia come dressed up as princesses?”
“Sure,” I tell Miss Robyn. “I’d do anything to make Nellie happy. When I was little, dressing like a princess was my favorite thing to do, so sure, I can figure out a way to do that. And Odelia definitely won’t have a problem with it.”
“Perfect,” Miss Robyn says, and hustles back to her office.
After the kids are settled in for lunch, I change out of my navy flats and cruise to the park. I hope Miss Robyn brings the kids here later. They could use more outdoor time. A little exercise wouldn’t hurt, either.
Porchtown Skate Park is more crowded than I’ve ever seen it. Word has gotten out about the skate-off and every eleven- to fourteen-year-old in the county who owns a skateboard is here. I am not good at not colliding with other skaters when it’s this crazy. Twice I’ve smacked into somebody. Twice I’ve actually gotten up the guts to say I’m sorry. The first kid ignored my terrific manners; the second had lots to say to me. If Dad ever heard me swearing like that, he’d dunk me in the bay.
I swerve in and out of the obstacles, roll up and down the volcano, and find a space to practice the tricks for the skate-off. My kick-flip is still sketchy. I land it eighty percent of the time. Seventy percent is more like it. Not bad odds. I finish a couple more runs and grinds on random things, collapse on my board, and look over at the half-pipe. I swear it’s grown.
“Dude, don’t let it intimidate you. Or the kids dominating it. You master the rock and roll yet?”
Wyatt. His voice makes me feel gooey inside like skateboard wax that’s been left out in the sun. I picture him talking to Roxanne and it kills my confidence. “Nope, but I will. Are you ready?” Listen to me, all inquisitive and mannerly, at least on the outside. On the inside, I’m wondering why Wyatt was hanging out with Roxanne. They have nothing in common!
“Looking forward to it,” Wyatt says. “There’s some local band playing that day.”
“No Boys Allowed,” I say.
“What?” Wyatt asks, scrunching up his face.
“That’s the name of the band.” I want to smirk, but he’ll think I’m making fun of him.
Wyatt takes it all in. “Cool.”
News flash! The boy is staring at me. I don’t know how to act. I don’t know what else to say. I want to ask about Roxanne, but that’s impossible.
“See ya around,” I mumble. And then I remember: Manners do not come naturally to you . . . and I blurt out, “Thank you for helping me the other day. You’re a really great skater.”
Wyatt runs his hand through his sun-streaked hair. He doesn’t say a word. I don’t say a word. I can hear a clock in my brain ticking off each awkward second. Do I leave first? Do I wait for him to leave?
Wyatt turns away, but turns back. “Dude, I’ve got competition. You rock, too.”
Wyatt thinks I rock? Wow! My mouth drops open and when I realize how ridiculous I look I change it into a yawn.
“Listen, you wanna come by my house Saturday? Maybe around lunch?” he asks. “I’ve got a new skate DVD. All the pros are in it. Mega wipeouts. You’d probably like it.” Wyatt spins a wheel on his board.
I’m glad that Wyatt thinks I’d like a DVD about professional skaters, huge ramps, impossible verts, and broken bones, but mostly I am in shock. A boy has asked me over!
I swallow hard and squeak out, “Sure.” We say good-bye and that’s that.
For the rest of the afternoon, I am fearless. I have to push my way in for half-pipe time, and Moron Forge makes things difficult. He constantly blocks my ride. Time to put lesson seven into action again. “Hey, Ron, please don’t hang at the bottom when you’re done. If you don’t move, I might crash into you on my next run.”
Moron looks up at me. “Berndog, that you?”
“Yeah, it’s Bernie.” Here we go. It’s not like I’m some 170-pound roller derby girl who can body check Moron to the moon. “Please, Ron? I need to practice.” I lift my palms to the air, act as adorable as possible, and hope he gets the message. To my utter shock, Moron shrugs, grabs his board, and shuffles off the pipe.
Manners work! But that’s not what’s important right now. I’ve got to find Odelia. And fast. I need a lesson on How Not to Act Like an Idiot When I’m at a Boy’s House.
Once home, I see Roxanne sitting on my front steps. I’ve been thinking about Odelia’s take on Roxanne, how it makes sense.
“About Wyatt,” Roxanne says before I say a word, “when you were busy on your skateboard the other day, he came over to talk to me. But all he did was talk about you.”
“What do you mean?” My heart is beating fast like it does right before a big test. If boys are a subject in middle school, I’ll fail that class completely.
“He wanted to know
