“Why are you messing with me, man?” I ask.
“What?” His eyes widen. “I’m not messing with you.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Tu eres muy guapo, Papi.”
He knows just what to say to get under my skin. I shove him off my locker, slam it shut, and walk away. I don’t like Dave’s vibe. He reminds me of those kids who held me down and tried to spit in my face because I talked funny. Like he’s trying to push me into revealing something I don’t want to. And why? To have something to hold over my head? To expose me? To fuck with me? I don’t know what to do in this situation. I just want it to stop.
And what if Asshole Dave says something to Chris? Or goads Chris into a fight just to get at me?
Better to just avoid my locker altogether.
“WHERE WEREyou at lunch?” Chris asks me that Friday after school on the car ride home. Dave’s been hanging around with our lunch crew, so I took my board down to the abandoned gas station on the corner and practiced my grinds. One good thing to come out of the Great Recession is there are a lot more empty buildings and vacant lots for skaters to shred. That’s what the older generation of skate rats says—sticking it to the man has never been so easy.
“I had some stuff to make up,” I lie. I don’t want Chris to ask me why I was off on my own. He’s always trying to include me in his social circle, and he takes it personally when I opt out.
“It’s the first week of school,” Chris argues. He doesn’t believe me. I’m not going to go into it about Dave, so I just stare out the window and hope he’ll give up.
He turns up the music—a local punk band. Did I mention he has great taste in music too? I glance over to find him bobbing his head along to the beat, and I figure that must be the end of it. Chris pulls into his driveway and shuts off the engine.
“Thanks for the ride,” I tell him while grabbing my skateboard and backpack.
“Hold up,” he says before I can bounce. He lays one hand on my arm and leaves it there, like he’s claiming it for his own.
I freeze but keep my stuff in my hands. He looks upset, and it probably has something to do with the way I’ve been acting. All distant and mopey.
“You’ve been ditching me all week. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”
This heart-to-heart is exactly what I wanted to avoid, in avoiding him. Chris has a way of getting at the truth of the matter. I set my backpack and board down at my feet. How do I make him feel better about it without telling him about Dave’s bullshit? And what if he brings up Sebastian?
“I’ve just been busy,” I say.
“With what?”
“I don’t know. School?”
He sighs and shakes his head like he’s disappointed in me, something I can’t stand, to think that I’ve displeased him. “That’s bullshit, but whatever. You working this weekend?”
“Yeah. Both days.”
“What are you doing this afternoon?”
I mentally review my empty calendar. “Nothing.”
“Let’s go down to BOA.”
BOA—Bank of America—is one of our prime skate spots and my favorite. Chris knows it too. I don’t really feel like being forced to act normal in front of him, but if I bail, it will only make him try harder and probably hurt his feelings as well. Making him feel bad is, like, twice the pain for me.
“Let me change and I’ll meet you back here in an hour,” I say.
He nods. “See you then.”
An hour or so later, we ride our skateboards down to BOA since it’s not too far from where we live. The sea breeze is up, and it feels nice in my hair and billowing up my shirt. The Florida heat can make you feel like you’re trapped in a sweaty plastic bubble for, like, six months out of the year, so any breeze is practically Arctic by comparison. When we arrive at the bank, there are a few kids already out. The BOA closed down a while back, and the property has been for sale ever since. Cops hardly ever patrol it, and so long as we don’t break any windows or litter too much, no one seems to mind.
“Asshole Dave’s here,” Chris says to me. I don’t know which of us came up with the name, but it stuck.
I scan the parking lot, and at the same time, Dave spots me. He doesn’t give me that trademark smirk, though, just nods and goes back to whatever he was doing. Maybe he won’t give me such a hard time with Chris around. It’s pretty damn annoying that this kid is showing up at my neighborhood skate holes where I’ve been coming for years. Who the hell invited him anyway?
