Wyatt comes alive when he hears this question. He rattles off stats for his team and goes on and on about home runs, strikes, balls, walks, and unfair umpires. I have no idea what he’s talking about, but I try not to slouch and instead, shoot for posture, poise, and even eye contact. I throw out random questions to keep him chirping along, and in the middle of it all, I realize I’ve nailed it. I am the Shiloh Brown of talking. I’ve just spent fifteen minutes in an intense conversation with the cutest skater who ever rolled into Porchtown. And I haven’t mumbled, cried, or fainted. And my hair looks good.
Jeffrey Gregory is tapping his fingers into the mic, getting everybody’s attention. It’s hard to return to Earth. Wyatt and I stand up, and neither of us says a word as the winners are announced.
We aren’t surprised to hear that the boy in the red beanie places first. Wyatt and I nod in agreement with the judges’ choice. He gets a huge silver trophy, $200.00 cash, and a new deck signed by Torey Pudwill. If there are any sponsors lurking in the audience, this fourteen-year-old will get a million-dollar deal on the spot.
“Our second-place prize, and the winner of $100.00, plus a DVD collection of skateboarding documentaries goes to Wyatt Anderson.” I clap like a lunatic as Wyatt thanks the judges, shakes their hands, and casually steps off the stage.
“You deserve it,” I tell him. “Totally.”
Wyatt pushes his hands through his wavy hair, and his bangs fall over his eyes. He peeks out at me like a sheepish little kid.
“Attention, please!” Mr. Gregory shouts. “We have added an Honorable Mention prize, a $50 gift card to Porchtown Sports. Elise and Brandon wanted a particular skater to be recognized.
Elise Winters and Brandon Richards step up to the mic. “In California towns,” Brandon says, “skate parks are everywhere. They’re not as common here, and I’m glad to visit rural Pennsylvania and see how a small town like Porchtown has promoted skating. I see how the kids are loving it, right kids?”
The kids go wild. The parents, not so much.
Elise says, “I’ve been surfing since I was eight. I understand the thrill of being on a board. We girls have to stick together to get noticed, right?”
The girls go wild. The boys, not so much.
Elise continues, “In honor of women skaters like Lizzie Armanto, Lyn-Z Adams Hawkins, and Vanessa Torres who, dare I say, have paved the way for girl skaters everywhere . . .” She waits for the audience to get her joke. “In honor of those pioneers of professional skateboarding, we’d like to recognize a girl who ruled the park at this event.”
For a split second, I imagine Elise calling out my name.
“Courtney Lance, congratulations. Excellent moves all around, girlfriend.”
The scary girl with BALANCE on her arm jumps up on stage. Oh, I get it now. BALANCE is a combo of what she needs to skate and her name! That’s kind of cool, actually. Courtney ruins that cool when she grabs her prize, and snubs the judges by not shaking their hands. She doesn’t even say thanks.
“Hunh?” I say to no one in particular.
“You were robbed,” Wyatt says. “You should have won.”
“No, it’s okay. That’s not it. I was commenting on Courtney’s bad attitude,” I tell him. “There’s always next year for me.” In my mind, I’m not sure about the next year part. Besides, what Wyatt doesn’t know is that I’ve already won. Today has been the best day of my life.
There’s a loud screech coming from the mic as Mr. Gregory takes it again. “We have one more announcement,” he says. “Will the children from Smile Academy please stand?”
I can’t imagine why this is happening. The campers already have their blue ribbons.
The campers stand and Mr. Gregory asks the crowd to clap for them once more, which we do. The kids come up on the stage, and Miss Robyn lingers beside them looking supermodel beautiful and extremely proud.
“I am very impressed by Smile Academy’s wonderful skateboarding team, the Mighty Munchkins.”
“Made of awesome!” I yell because I can’t help myself.
“As owner and publisher of Faceplant magazine, I commend this school for its amazing summer programming, and for bringing skating into the lives of these special needs children; therefore, I’m sponsoring a scholarship program for those campers in financial need. I’ll be meeting with Miss Robyn next week to iron out the details.”
No one hears this last part because we’re whooping it up like maniacs at the Super Bowl. This means Nellie can come back to camp!
My parents, Miss Robyn, and my mighty munchkins charge over to me.
“Bern, you were dy-no-mite,” Dad says.
Mom adds, “Dy-no-mite on wheels!”
Miss Robyn takes both my hands in hers. “This has been quite a summer for Smile Academy, Bernice. None of this would be happening without you. I am so grateful for all your help.”
Nellie breaks away from her mom and gives me an attack hug. I lift her off her feet, which isn’t easy. She’s a big bundle of fuzzy cheerleader sweater and pom-poms.
“Bernice should get an A+ in skateboarding,” Nellie tells me. “Nellie Frances O’Malley and Bernice will be BFFs forever!”
“And Nellie is the best cheerleader in the world,” I say. “BFFs forever.”
“Nellie Frances O’Malley is a happy camper!” She wiggles out of my arms. “See you later, alligator.”
“After a while, crocodile,” I call.
Being a volunteer has been a terrific part of my summer. There’s another part, too. A part that involves a certain across-the-street neighbor. Where. Is. Odelia? “Has anyone seen Odelia?” I ask impatiently.
Roxanne joins us, and answers. “She’s next to some old lady by the stage. Hey, look! No Boys Allowed is about to play.”
The crowd quickly closes in around us. I can’t make it over to Odelia. No Boys Allowed starts to clang, bang, and stomp
