Back in the driveway, I ask Rob his price. He gives me the same amount listed on Craigslist. Ryanne lowers her glasses to look at him, clears her throat a little. Rob shakes his head at her.
“Since you’re a friend of Ryanne’s, I’ll knock off $500.”
Luckily his price is just about what I have. My dad would probably want me to play hardball, but that’s not really my style. I looked the car up already, and it’s a good deal no matter which way you slice it. I pull out my bankroll and count off the cash in hundred-dollar bills and hand it over to him.
“Sweet,” he says and goes back inside to get the title to transfer over to me, along with the paperwork. The keys are already in my pocket.
I didn’t even realize my hands were trembling when Ryanne grabs hold and does an excited little dance. “Congratulations!”
“Yeah, thanks for hooking us up and for the friend-of-a-friend discount.” I’m elated and nervous at the same time. I can’t believe I just dropped my life savings on a car, but damn, it does feel good.My car.
She smiles. “Don’t forget about our date to Plan Z.”
“I won’t. But can I drive?”
“Sure.”
“And bring Chris? I kind of told him I’d go with him too.”
Ryanne smiles and shakes her head in mock displeasure. “Two-timing me already, Wooten?”
I don’t even need to answer her because I’m sure my smile gives me away.
I DRIVEthe car home that same day, pull into our driveway, and decide the first thing I need to do after showing it off to my mom and sister is wash, wax, and detail it. I’m out front vacuuming the inside when Chris gets back from surfing.
“Nice wheels,” he comments.
“Thanks, Boss.” I climb out of the back seat and take him in. He’s wearing one of those distressed shirts, so worn through it’s practically see-through, board shorts, and flip-flops, carrying the surfboard he named Baby Blue.
“Are your parents home?” I ask, kind of hoping they’re not.
“Yeah, they worked from home today.”
“Bummer, dude.”
“I told them. After school.”
“Yeah? How’d they take it?”
“Pretty good. There were some lectures about safe sex. My mom wants me to write a five-paragraph essay on the importance of using condoms, including blowjobs. Think that prompt will be on the SAT?”
“Blowjobs too, huh?” Dave and I were pretty careful, but it never hurts to be 100 percent sure. The risk is low, but it’s still a risk. “I should get tested, just to be safe.”
Chris nods. “I didn’t tell them about us. I will. I was just hoping to give them some time to adjust.”
“It’s cool.” I haven’t told my mom or sister about Chris either, but I’m pretty sure my mom has figured it out. She gets a little smile on her face whenever I mention hanging out with him.
“They’re flying me out to Cali this weekend,” Chris says.
“That’s good.”
“Yeah, but I wanted to spend the weekend with you, practicing for Plan Z.”
“I’ll stick to the regimen.”
Chris did some research online and listed combos he thinks the judges will like. He’s laid out all the tricks I need to master and where the best spots to practice them are, including the skate park where the competition will be held, which is fine, but it almost feels like cheating. I appreciate the thought behind the design, but I find skate parks a little condescending. The curbs are all smooth and rounded, and the concrete is softer with these tire-tread textures in between stations, like we’re toddlers on the playground. Part of the thrill of skateboarding is the fear of getting hurt and pulling off stunts on structures that were never meant to be shredded. Also trespassing.
“I expect you to slay,” Chris reminds me. He thinks I’m not taking it seriously. I definitely am, even more so than he knows. In a way, it’s my coming out as a skater who shreds—hopefully—and is also gay.
