“Yes, accessorize, Bernice! That’s a good start. Dress up for every occasion. Make the most of what you have. You have the potential to be more than rather plain.”
“More than rather plain?” I repeat. I may be a little ordinary, but I’ve never felt bad about that. Until now. I hide my hurt by making a big deal out of sticking on my knee and elbow pads. I shove the silver helmet over my beanie and give her an I-don’t-care-what-you-think-of-me look.
Odelia’s enthusiasm over my “accessories” fades. “You look like a knight,” she says. “Please tell me you’re not training for battle.”
“What I’m battling is a brand-new half-pipe.” I hold up my skateboard and sway it back and forth like a heavy sword. “A skate park is a place with ramps, pads, steps, rails, and other awesome obstacles. I ride this skateboard up and down and over everything, and my ‘accessories’ are so I don’t get hurt when I mess up. And I mess up a lot. But I will own that pipe today.”
“Own a pipe? Smoking? No, no, no!” Odelia shouts.
I blow out a sigh. “No, Odelia. I don’t smoke. A half-pipe is a big U, like a ramp with sides. It’s got an insane vert, a vertical, and scares the goosebumps off me, but I hope to be able to ride my skateboard on it by the time summer is over.”
Odelia smiles, enough that her dimples make an appearance. I can’t tell if she’s been trying to fool me or she’s serious.
“Lead on, warrior skater Bernice.”
“You’re coming?”
“Yes!” Odelia answers. “I am gathering notes on how to turn you, a knight, into a lady. Onward!”
Why I don’t tell Odelia then and there to get lost, I. Have. No. Idea. Maybe I do feel sorry for her, being an orphan and the new kid in town.
Odelia strolls behind me, placing one foot purposefully in front of the other. She’s so slow that the sparrow following her has trouble staying in the air. At this rate, she’ll catch up to me next week. I hop off my board and impatiently tip it up and down with my left foot. Odelia turns her stroll into a little jog, then she stops short, says, “Oopsies,” and returns to her regal strut. When she’s near me, I start skating again, barely moving enough to keep my wheels turning and staying slightly ahead of her. I hope no one thinks we are actually hanging out. I thank my lucky stars that Main Street is deserted.
When we stop at the gate, Odelia touches my skateboard, then pulls her hand away like it’s an object from outer space. “Skateboarding is not popular where I come from,” she says. “Can you tell me about it? How do you stay stuck to it?”
I answer Odelia’s million questions about skating. She’s so interested, I wonder if she wants to try it. But a skater in a princess gown is about as cool as a tutu-ed ballerina defending a hockey goal. She’s not getting anywhere near my board inside the skate park. Showing up here with a royal sidekick is bad enough.
Lucky for me, the park is empty except for a few third-graders. They whisper and point to Odelia, then get back to grinding the flat bar at the back of the park. These shortie shredders mastered their first ollies when they were seven. They come here every day, easily popping their boards on to ledges, rails, and benches without a second thought. They let nothing get in the way of a day of skating. Not even a princess spectator.
Today, it’s burning hot out—like eighty-plus degrees with eighty percent humidity, so the usual crowd isn’t here. They’ve traded in their skate gear for swimsuits and gone to the pool next door. I can’t go swimming. We don’t have a membership. Mom and Dad say, “We’re too mellow for a pool membership,” which is parental code for it’s an unnecessary expense. They encourage me to run through our sprinklers for fun. I may as well sit on the front lawn with the word DORK on my swimsuit.
Odelia doesn’t follow me into the fenced part of the park. She takes a seat on the bleachers outside. She smoothes her gown, adjusts the periwinkle ribbon that’s around her waist, and dusts off her slippers with a lacy handkerchief she’s taken from her purse. Once settled—as settled as a princess can be at a skate park—her eyes find me and stick to me like fresh grip tape on a skateboard deck.
It’s going to be a long day.
***
One Day My Prince Will Come
I roll around the park, pop an ollie, and end up on the manny pad—a four-by-six low slab of rectangular concrete. I practice my kick turns and pull off a couple of 50-50 grinds on the low rail. As I ride, I ask myself: Is Odelia going to follow me everywhere? How did I get so lucky to be stuck with the town crazy person? Why does she have to be my friend? Why can’t she be friends with Marcia Garcia, the ten-year-old on our street who walks around with a crown and a wand? They’d make a great pair.
The third-graders have left and the regulars show up. These boys enter from the pool side and are too wrapped up in challenging each other with skateboard tricks to notice me or Odelia. At this park, in my corner of rural Pennsylvania, boys rule. I’m one of two girls in the entire town who show up here, but that counts for squat. Shiloh Brown, the other girl, is a beast at skating. She nails every move and gets lots of attention. I’ve learned a ton by watching her and copying her style. But Shi’s gone for the rest of the summer, visiting her old neighborhood in San Diego.
I cruise over to the half-pipe. From ground level, this U doesn’t
